The Cat Lady Presents "My Incredible Fetching Cat"

Love Along 27

How did a road lead me to love? 

Just like life, the windy twists and turns of Highway 27 seem to hide what ‘s just ahead, like a 30 ton life boulder to stop you dead in your tracks. That was me, speeding along in life, happily residing in Venice to keep my New York "edge" from saying words like “Dude”. Working in TV, I commuted to Hollyweird, so on weekends I didn’t move unless highly motivated. When my ex-neighbor Carol, an indie roots rocker and massage therapist to famous musicians, mentioned her friend’s band was playing at Topanga Days that weekend, it stirred enough interest for me to actually put down the TV remote and think about motivating.

I called my BF Neurotic Nick to come meet me, who replied in his casual effete tone that he would maybe show up,sometime that afternoon, which was code for a fifty-fifty chance of a no-show.

As I headed up the Pacific Coast Highway in search of my destiny up the switchbacks into the canyon, I noticed how the sunlight filtered through the Live Oaks and I began to breathe slower. Traversing the two lane highway, I parked in front of Froggy’s, and waited for the shuttle beside several guys who seem nice enough, and wouldn't murder me. We engaged in small talk, when I notice the good looking one with dark hair, surf trunks, a cool t-shirt, the posture of a Marine, and a bad ass pair of Persol sunglasses. We climb on board the shuttle, Cute Boy seated next to me, as we then make chit chat and I casually mention how I’m meeting my friends, just in case he is an Ax Murderer. He has just come from surfing, when I recount recently surfing for the first time in Oahu, standing up in front of Dukes Waikiki in my bikini, acting out my Gidget fantasy, until I got hit in the head with the surfboard by the next wave.

As we arrive at the festival, Cute Boy pulls out a pen and writes his number down. "Call me, if your friends don't show up and you can come hang out with us", he says smiling.

"Cool!" I say, and walk away thinking, Don't hold your breath, sucker!”.

I proceed to spend the next hour shopping, as Topanga Days is not only has great music, great food, and great people watching, but also a Marrakesh bazaar of hippie chic outfits, that could pass for my entire high school wardrobe. Saris blow in the wind.I forget searching for my friends. Happily, I sit down and listen to the band, taking in the vibe, when up walks Cute Boy with the Persol sunglasses and the Marine posture.

"Hey, did you get ahold of your friends?", he asks.

"Negative. I'm in cell phone hell", I reply, as he instantly offers his cell for assistance. I try both numbers, leaving Nick a message (Did you die?) and Carol (Still working or just flaking?).

Cute Boy and I walk through the bazaar, past sage burning, and belly dancing girls twirl hula hoop rings on their arms. I catch his friends looking over me over from behind approvingly, as we spend the afternoon playing life catch up, recounting all the intimate details of our pasts. He is a Los Angeles native and surfs, recounting growing up in L.A. Three thousand miles away from my life in the East Village going to NYU Film School. He tells me about parties with famous celebrities and the erect posture from being a Navy Helicopter Search and Rescue Seal. We spent the rest of our time recapping last relationships, mostly girls with tattoos for him, and the walking wounded, for me.

"Wow, glad that's out, now let's drink!"

"Oh wait, I don't drink. I'm sober."

"Okay, we'll figure it out."

And we did. Cute Boy and I bought a house exactly in between where we met at Froggry's, and had a quiet ceremony and married, at Inn of the Seventh Ray, right down the road where we met. Formerly, the first church of worship in the canyon, the blessings of the highway brought me to a new home.

So you never know who you might meet along the road. They just may change your life.