Thelma, Louise and That Girl, Part 1. Who's That Girl?

(reposted from The Ark and Vloggerheads)

Thelma, Louise and That Girl
June 1998
Part One - Who’s That Girl?
(c) 2009 - LDK

In the summer of 1998, I was young, free and single (if not a little haggard by the previous eight years of ball and chainery). My son was offered a trip with his grandparents - two weeks on Los Angeles, then a three week tour along the Oregon and Washington coast. Whoa, a month to myself to do as I pleased. So, with out Daddy, Boyfriend, Boss or Husband - it was time to hit the open road. But who wants to do that alone? So I called up Laura (now living in Kansas and well recovered from her own Compound Desert Cove experience) and invited her along. Not one to pass up a good time, she immediately booked tickets to come and join me in Phoenix.

I have no idea which one of us would be Thelma or Louise. Both of us back then wanted equal dibs on the alluring combination of Brad Pitt and a sturdy set of chest of drawers. Though I have the better southern accent - so yeah, I woulda been Gena Davis (as evidenced later in the tale).

I was also in my interwebz infancy at the time - six months of finding out that java script chat rooms, MIRC and usenet was full of perverts and wackjobs. I’d found a small corner of my own in cyberspace, in a chat room by the name of the Sports Bar. Once a cybersex brothel with “OhmesoHard” and variations therein shouting to anyone regardless of which gender they were pretending to be, ‘WANNA CYBER? ’. I learned that javascript had an easy BOOT FROM ROOM command. A small group of us started showing up there during morning coffee and sorta made it home. One of the regulars was That Girl. TG had introduced me to her boyfriend (that her hubby didn’t know anything about), who turned out to be a Really Rich Guy who wanted to make a buck on the whole Dot Com Boom (and hey, he wanted to invest in me!), so in the interest of Investor Relations, I also invited That Girl to join us.

TG was rather hormonally fit and proceeded to rattle off the potential ‘hook ups’ from San Diego running at regular northern intervals along the Pacific Coast Highway. Laura and I were little more laid back in our approach. A bucket of party sounded good enough for us.

Laura arrived at Sky Harbor first and we had a couple of hours wait for TG’s flight to arrive. So we made for the closest bar and started a tab. Eventually there were several married couples and business men with equal amounts of time to kill that joined us. I think the human animal can smell freedom in the air and likes it...*S* We didn’t manage to meet TG at the gate, but with the instincts of a homing pigeon, she eventually found us. (it wouldn’t be the first time) And I think she even had to drive us home.

At the crack of dawn the next morning - large sunglasses and itty bitty summer attire donned...we three and Froo climbed into my beat up Toyota and headed for Los Angeles.