"How did they turn on me so quickly?" I asked myself. "Do they already hate me?"
Of course not, silly. The features editor sits directly behind me (Yes, it's a small newsroom) and alerted me that everyone was still on Easter Break and no one would call back until Tuesday.
"Today would have been a good day to take off," she said with a giggle.
Don't have to ask me twice. It was a quarter past 11 a.m. and I briskly walked to my car with no plans of looking back.
The only problem with an impromptu half day off is that I really didn't know who to call and share the splendor with. It was Monday and most people I know were either working or planning to go to work.
Ask anyone in the media -- it's an ever-occurring hassle. Our work schedules are so crazy and they change so often that it's hard to pinpoint your exact days off during any given week.
But who cares? I live in paradise and the beach is never hard to find.
I grabbed a few beers, packed a backpack and started to walk to Lindbergh Bay. See, I had to walk because Brianna borrowed my car for an all-day bender with her work friends. Their boss treated them to jet skis in the morning and open bar tabs in the afternoon.
Shit. Why didn't I call them? What the hell was I thinking?
Well, I rolled solo and enjoyed every second of it at the beach. I read a book, lost consciousness and went swimming -- on a continuous loop -- until the sun went down. Just before this group of French teenagers asked me to join their beach volleyball team, I pulled out my iPhone and snapped a picture...
This place continues to baffle me, but in a good way.
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