In case you need to run from the airport to my new house, here’s the route.
It’s 3 miles. Should take you about half an hour if you’re in decent shape or being chased by TSA dogs.
This is almost exactly where a smooth, pale youngster by the name of Me came of age. I was in Burlingame, Calif., home of the Burlingame Museum of Pez Memorabilia and the IT’S IT factory, from fifth thru twelfth grade.
You see the little coastline near the Hyatt? That’s where I first touched a boob for real. We were supposed to go over to someone’s house and watch … I dunno, Evil Dead 2, probably? But then we got into the whole boob thing and ran late.
Folks, there were no cellphones in those days. Those were the days when you’d be in the middle of a boob session and say, you know what, let’s ditch that party and just keep doing this. And later you could blame it on something stupid like traffic because there were no cellphones and nobody ever really knew where you were.
