A few years ago, I had the pleasure of being able to travel around the United States for business.
Of course, when time permitted, or if you are skilled enough, when you make time permit, you must take in the beauty of certain cities and areas. Take in the sights, smell the vegetation, have a glass of wine… enjoy.
In Santa Barbara was the most beautiful sight I have seen so far in my life.
The Pacific Ocean.
I had seen it before and was taken by its grandeur as she had a different personality than her more restless sister the Atlantic. But in Santa Barbara, with its warm October air and softly sun-lit landscape, the subtle waters under your feet make you take pause. Here I was worrying about deadlines and meetings just a short time before and then it was all made small by the pacific sight before me. I was a different person after. Things bothered me less, and mattered more.
The Pacific.
She was empowered to create and destroy and had peacefully accepted this burden. And as her advancing and retracting waters cleansed me of my worries, so, too, did she endow me with the understanding that I, too, could accept, control, and remake my gifts and curses. I slept calmly that evening and awoke the next morning renewed and able to tackle my most difficult obstacles.
This was not the first time, however, that I had seen the Pacific. She and I first met in Santa Monica. It was a year prior to being in Santa Barbara and my mind was not ready to be awakened by its power. This time I was assigned to a project in Torrance and was to stay at the Holiday Inn on Colorado Avenue. While not the best hotel, it was right across the street from the beach.
The location was perfect- one block from the Third Street Promenade and a 10 minute ride from Malibu. On night one, I needed for my own personal gain to say that, like Sheryl Crow, I had seen the “sun come up over Santa Monica Boulevard.” It is one thing to wait around for lunch… another to wait for the end of the work day… certainly another to wait all night for the sun to come up.
Notwithstanding the full day of work that was awaiting me after the sunrise; but hey, we are young and impetuous. And on the topic of young and impetuous, I did what I knew would kill some time. I went to a small club named 14 Below and indulged in the Halloween Black and Tan Special… 3 dollars for good beer. The bar was across the street from an Infiniti Dealership and Car wash. As the night grew older, I relished in the stories of the Irish barista who was very skilled at climbing the wall behind the bar to put on a show and mix drinks. He was an acrobat and a barkeep… only in California. I saw several bands play and shared drinks with band members and tossed the name Berklee as if it was some special ID they forgot to check at the door. The people were as interested about the music scene in Boston as I was about the scene in LA. Albeit, after a few too many brews it is safe to say that any scene is interesting or made to be interesting.
At 5 in the morning, I took the cab back to Santa Monica Boulevard. Alcohol, fatigue, ringing ears, a warm bed, a long day at work. All disparate thoughts that were nagging enough to keep me awake. Had I been back home with a similar head full, I would have complained that I was unable to sleep the night before, but I had reason for enduring. Breakfast kept me going. Then there I was. No Sheryl Crow. No guitar. No pen or paper. Only my cell phone. A grim reminder of the day that lay before me. I am happy to say, though, that I was drinking beer in a bar that faces a car wash and on 6:35 am on Tuesday October 24th, 2000, I, Michael Andrade, saw the sun come up over Santa Monica Boulevard.
