Living in Los Angeles has been an endless stream of questions like “So where do you like it better, here or Russia?” and “Don’t you miss the snow?” Truth be told, while I like snow and I think it’s beautiful, I don’t want it around me for longer than a span of 48 hours. That’s precisely why living in LA is so great. If you wanna take your winter parka out for a walk but don’t want to be subjected to all the weird looks people are gonna give you while you’re sweating your ass off walking down Ventura Blvd; all you have to do is drive 2 hours or less into the mountains and it’s Winter Galore.
One particular semi-cold Sunday morning my friends and I decided to do exactly that. We grabbed the dog, a bottle of champagne, a few Ushankas, a couple of chicken sandwiches for the road and let the Panda Mobile (Mom, the owner of the Panda Mobile can rap the song better than Desiigner; hence the name) take us to Frazier Park.
The first part of the trip was uneventful; filled with chatter, gossip, and excitement over making snow angels as the dog went back and forth between squealing and complaining to happily bathing in the wind from the open window that caressed her furry face. The second part of the trip involved massive traffic, unreasonable demands from authorities; drinking on a rooftop and going home without even so much as a snowflake stamp on our passports.
First of all, nobody likes traffic; especially when despite being tired you opt to leave extra early on a Sunday morning to avoid it. Turns out we weren’t the only snow angels out and about that day; everyone and their mother crawled out of their air conditioned apartments and into the ‘real’ winter wonderland. So, traffic. People are starting to give up and turn around… Not us! We’re way too stubborn. So we play the snail game for another hour or so as we slowly creep our way up the hill. We even took the dog out for a walk in the midst of all this. Turns out the reason for all this traffic is a check point. It’s not alcohol they’re seeking which is good for us cause you know, bubbles in the trunk. No, it’s all about them chains, which of course none of us women thought of getting prior to taking a trip to the mountains; in the winter. We contemplated on lying about it but when the time for questioning came around, we caved and told the truth. “No officer, we don’t have chains and we have no idea whether or not this car is 4WD but I promise we’ll be really careful; we just want to see the snow.” Turns out telling the truth CAN work in your favor! I’m sure the fact that we’re cute helped as well.
With authorities and traffic behind us we were well on our way to see the snow… or so we thought. There was no snow. There was no ice. There was nothing. Well, there was a bar… naturally that’s where we ended up. No chains needed to sit on a bench and chug booze, let me tell you!
We drove for two hours to end up at a bar; that’s just our luck. Naturally we made the best of it. We dressed Juicy (the dog) up in an outfit; she hated it of course. We drank beer, whiskey, white zinfandel and baileys – because what are we if not diverse. Then we took pictures in our Russian hats – because what are we if not Mafia –looking bad ass Russians. Then we drove home. I napped. The end.
Would I wake up at the crack of dawn to participate in another last minute trip to see the snow? Sure. I’ll just make sure to check the weather first.