I went to Comic-Con, spent long nights at the bar talking to strangers (it's my job), and trekked back on Monday via Amtrak.My old friend JG of Comicraft (he designed MariesWorldTour.com, remember?) saved me a spot in line, and we boarded the Amtrak for the ride up the coast on the noon Pacific Surfliner. I disembarked at Burbank Airport and caught a taxi to the rental car agency. I'd tried to get one at the airport, but the price difference between that and the Victory Boulevard Enterprise was as huge as Tracy had warned me it would be.
I had nearly changed trains at Union Station, so I could disembark near the rental car agency and walk to Enterprise, when I remembered I didn't have to do things the hard way. There are these things called taxis.
The car rental place gave me a little Nissan hatchback—much better than the clunky Dodge Avenger I had the last time. I stopped by the office then headed to Los Feliz to get the keys to my new place.
I'm in Los Feliz for a month, though I only have the rental car for a week. From the little apartment I've rented off VRBO, it's a .8 mile walk to the Red Line. That's nothing. But I've been here long enough that my brain goes "Oh no, that's a long walk." It absolutely is nothing. That's only a bit longer than my JC walk to the PATH train, but I've inexplicably decided it's too much. What the hell is wrong with me? I've been here five minutes.I'll drop off my car on Monday morning and take the train home. Is it too much? We'll find out.
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