The Donald Duck Dreams Las Vegas on horseback
It’s been a dreamy summer in California - and I mean ‘dreamy summer’ literally. Nazy rarely remembers her dreams, but my memories are often very vivid because, as I explained to Nazy:
“I always have the leading role in my dreams.”
“Everyone..”
“Additionally, I am the writer, director and producer of my dreams which are vivid, moving and thought provoking.”
“Moving, Dan? You told me about one dream where everyone in our family had turned in a pancake.”
“You’ve gotta admit that I gave you a thought provoking and vivid description. Remember how sad Melika was when I explained that, as pancakes, we couldn’t go for a walk.”
“Of course I don't remember, Dan. It was your dream.”
“And someone poured maple syrup… but I’ve digressed. My newest dream had Richard Branson in a supporting role.”
“Richard Branson? The British Billionaire?”
“The very one, my dear. We were visiting a friend’s house..”
“Which friend?”
“I dont know, Nazy, the friend didn’t have an important part in the drama. During the dream, the toilet in Richard Branson’s room got clogged. And he asked me for help.”
“Richard Branson asked you to help him clean out a clogged toilet.”
“Well…”
“What kind of a dream was this, Dan?”
“The toilet had a huge tank of water that was suspended from an I-beam dangling from a crane. The tank was empty, because someone had closed the flow value on a nearby dam. I opened valve and water gushed toward Richard Branson’s bathroom.”
“Aren’t you the hero?”
“Once I got the tank filled, I showed Richard how to pull a chain to set the flush in motion.”
“I bet he was impressed.”
“Well, when the toilet flushed, a rubber ducky flew into the air. I showed the ducky to the home’s owner and he told me that I should speak with Richard Branson. So, I told Richard that he should not stuff rubber ducks into the toilet.”
“What did he say to that?”
“I’m sure he would have thanked me — if I hadn't woken up first.”
“Have you ever met Richard Branson, Dan?”
“Yes.” I replied. “In my dreams,” I thought.
Prudently, Nazy decided to hide the family rubber duck collection as we got ready for a visit from Darius and Christiane. Before coming to Santa Barbara, they wanted to spend the first few days visiting Los Angeles.
“Los Angeles?” I asked.
“Darius is taking her to Disneyland and Hollywood.”
“That’s a great introduction to authentic Americana,” I replied.
And, courtesy of Melika and Tom, we had tickets to the new production of Phantom of the Opera at the Pantages Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard.
Nazy and I wanted to have a personal welcome to USA, so we wanted to meet them at LAX. They were booked on a huge Airbus 380 from Dubai. Uncharacteristically, we left in plenty of time. Unsurprisingly, our route was accident-strewn. We spent the first hour traveling 3.5 miles.
Aside: The navigation computer, aware of an accident on the 101, directed us to back roads. Unfortunately, everyone has a navigation computer and none of those computers knows about back road traffic. Thus, everyone was directed to the same back road. Because the navigation computer’s commentary was useless and stupid, I decided the name it: ’Donald’.
“The Donald,” Nazy corrected.
Eventually, the back road returned us to the 101 which was, by then, traffic-free. We were headed to the 405, but The Donald suggested a Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) detour via scenic Topanga Canyon and Malibu. An accident occurred on the PCH; further delays ensued. A trip that normally takes an hour and twenty minutes took three and a half hours. We arrived after their airplane landed.
“We’ve been driving longer than they were flying,” I said. “Luckily, Immigration ‘services’ are working on our behalf. It will take a while for Darius and Christiane to get out of International arrivals.”
In fact, it took a very long time. (Almost as much time as we had spent driving to LA.)
But they eventually arrived. We dropped them off at a trendy hotel on Sunset Boulevard and headed to Hollywood to see the Phantom - which we both really, really liked. The drive home was fine — after the first 45 minutes during which we traveled 52 meters.
Darius and Christiane arrived in Santa Barbara on Monday evening. We all went to the Santa Barbara Bowl (“The best bowl in Southern California,” I thought. “And I’m sure you know what I mean.&rdquo
At the Bowl, we enjoyed a concert by the New York Philharmonic.
Later, Darius showed Santa Barbara and the surrounding countryside to Christiane. They went to the weekly farmer’s market in order to pose with some clever birds. Darius borrowed one of my cowboy hats and took Christiane on a horseback riding expedition. They met Tiger, the world’s grand(est)son.
Over the weekend, they’re visiting Mitra and Stefan. They’ll be enjoying a sojourn at the world’s greatest Tango School (which, by the way has a new website), be hiking in the hills around Los Angeles and then seeing another natural wonder of America..
“The Grand Canyon?” I asked.
“No, Dad,” Darius corrected. “Las Vegas. The Venetian Hotel, David Copperfield’s magic and Cirque du Soleil”.
“Cirque is Canadian, Dar.”
“Las Vegas, Dad, is ‘All-American’.”
“You can bet on that,” I replied.
“I always have the leading role in my dreams.”
“Everyone..”
“Additionally, I am the writer, director and producer of my dreams which are vivid, moving and thought provoking.”
“Moving, Dan? You told me about one dream where everyone in our family had turned in a pancake.”
“You’ve gotta admit that I gave you a thought provoking and vivid description. Remember how sad Melika was when I explained that, as pancakes, we couldn’t go for a walk.”
“Of course I don't remember, Dan. It was your dream.”
“And someone poured maple syrup… but I’ve digressed. My newest dream had Richard Branson in a supporting role.”
“Richard Branson? The British Billionaire?”
“The very one, my dear. We were visiting a friend’s house..”
“Which friend?”
“I dont know, Nazy, the friend didn’t have an important part in the drama. During the dream, the toilet in Richard Branson’s room got clogged. And he asked me for help.”
“Richard Branson asked you to help him clean out a clogged toilet.”
“Well…”
“What kind of a dream was this, Dan?”
“The toilet had a huge tank of water that was suspended from an I-beam dangling from a crane. The tank was empty, because someone had closed the flow value on a nearby dam. I opened valve and water gushed toward Richard Branson’s bathroom.”
“Aren’t you the hero?”
“Once I got the tank filled, I showed Richard how to pull a chain to set the flush in motion.”
“I bet he was impressed.”
“Well, when the toilet flushed, a rubber ducky flew into the air. I showed the ducky to the home’s owner and he told me that I should speak with Richard Branson. So, I told Richard that he should not stuff rubber ducks into the toilet.”
“What did he say to that?”
“I’m sure he would have thanked me — if I hadn't woken up first.”
“Have you ever met Richard Branson, Dan?”
“Yes.” I replied. “In my dreams,” I thought.
Prudently, Nazy decided to hide the family rubber duck collection as we got ready for a visit from Darius and Christiane. Before coming to Santa Barbara, they wanted to spend the first few days visiting Los Angeles.
“Los Angeles?” I asked.
“Darius is taking her to Disneyland and Hollywood.”
“That’s a great introduction to authentic Americana,” I replied.
And, courtesy of Melika and Tom, we had tickets to the new production of Phantom of the Opera at the Pantages Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard.
Nazy and I wanted to have a personal welcome to USA, so we wanted to meet them at LAX. They were booked on a huge Airbus 380 from Dubai. Uncharacteristically, we left in plenty of time. Unsurprisingly, our route was accident-strewn. We spent the first hour traveling 3.5 miles.
Aside: The navigation computer, aware of an accident on the 101, directed us to back roads. Unfortunately, everyone has a navigation computer and none of those computers knows about back road traffic. Thus, everyone was directed to the same back road. Because the navigation computer’s commentary was useless and stupid, I decided the name it: ’Donald’.
“The Donald,” Nazy corrected.
Eventually, the back road returned us to the 101 which was, by then, traffic-free. We were headed to the 405, but The Donald suggested a Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) detour via scenic Topanga Canyon and Malibu. An accident occurred on the PCH; further delays ensued. A trip that normally takes an hour and twenty minutes took three and a half hours. We arrived after their airplane landed.
“We’ve been driving longer than they were flying,” I said. “Luckily, Immigration ‘services’ are working on our behalf. It will take a while for Darius and Christiane to get out of International arrivals.”
In fact, it took a very long time. (Almost as much time as we had spent driving to LA.)
But they eventually arrived. We dropped them off at a trendy hotel on Sunset Boulevard and headed to Hollywood to see the Phantom - which we both really, really liked. The drive home was fine — after the first 45 minutes during which we traveled 52 meters.
Darius and Christiane arrived in Santa Barbara on Monday evening. We all went to the Santa Barbara Bowl (“The best bowl in Southern California,” I thought. “And I’m sure you know what I mean.&rdquo
At the Bowl, we enjoyed a concert by the New York Philharmonic. Later, Darius showed Santa Barbara and the surrounding countryside to Christiane. They went to the weekly farmer’s market in order to pose with some clever birds. Darius borrowed one of my cowboy hats and took Christiane on a horseback riding expedition. They met Tiger, the world’s grand(est)son.
Over the weekend, they’re visiting Mitra and Stefan. They’ll be enjoying a sojourn at the world’s greatest Tango School (which, by the way has a new website), be hiking in the hills around Los Angeles and then seeing another natural wonder of America..
“The Grand Canyon?” I asked.
“No, Dad,” Darius corrected. “Las Vegas. The Venetian Hotel, David Copperfield’s magic and Cirque du Soleil”.
“Cirque is Canadian, Dar.”
“Las Vegas, Dad, is ‘All-American’.”
“You can bet on that,” I replied.
For last week's letter, click here
Christiane and Darius
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