Al was feeling a bit under the weather, so he slept the whole first day of our trip. Turns out he only missed about 500,000 cows, 3 windmills, and a goat. But as luck (er, perhaps destiny) would have it, the next day was a bit more inspiring. Between the cows and dust devils in northern Texas, we stumbled across a modern marvel of corrugated steel: the largest cross in North America. Sweet Jesus.
After attending Victoria's graduation in Charlottesville, Al packed his bags and headed to the Windy City. There, he waited patiently as I finished my last take-home exam and ignored my pleas for answers("I only know laws about thermodynamics and gravity"), and then he, Brian and I squeezed into my car to begin our roadtrip to Santa Monica.In Chicago, everyone's hair looks like Al's.
From there, we exited Texas as fast as we could. We tried a little too hard according to the state trooper in Amarillo. After spending the night in Santa Fe, we headed on to another American marvel: the Grand Canyon.
Al was having a little trouble blowing in the wind until Ranger Rick came along.
Al, Brian and I then got back in the car for the last leg of our roadtrip. We arrived in Santa Monica at 2:00 am, about 6 hours before I was to begin my first day of work in a law firm.
A coupla old Jews.
My mother wanted to know where Al got his hair done.
From my office, we then ventured on to Brian's. Al made a new friend, someone he felt he didn't have to talk down or up to.
Little Scalia and Al: Two intellectual giants.
The next day's events were meant only for the girls. Al nonetheless found himself accompanying us because Brian had to work (the glamorous life of lawyers!). We then set out to navigate the mass of L.A. freeways down to Orange County.
Is that a Flat Al in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?
Famished from a long morning trying on dresses, Al stopped at one of L.A.'s finest establishments for lunch.
Flat: "In Germany, some of my best friends were Hamburgers."
From there, we headed to the beach for some relaxing. June Gloom and Santa Monica's "marine layer" (which might be a euphemism for smog, I'm not sure) prevented us from enjoying the Pacific, but Al had fun anyway.
"In Russia, Photo dispenses you."
Brawn over brains.
After an exhausting week in Santa Monica, Al shoveled the sand out of his shoes and packed his bags and LSAT books for Virginia.