“I’m having a midlife crisis, do you want to go see Eddie Money at the Chumash Casino in Santa Ynez?” read the email from my childhood friend Lisa.
“I have an important meeting from 1:30 to 2:30 this afternoon, but if a car just happened to be driving by and I somehow fell into the front seat…” I wrote back.
So by 3:00 that Thursday afternoon, I was sitting shotgun with my buddy Lisa doing the speed limit up the 10 freeway, which for those who understand Los Angeles traffic, a very good omen this was.
When dealing with a midlife crisis, in the great state of California, it’s very important to immediately drive up Pacific Coast Highway—the moment one’s car emerges from the tunnel, which transitions traffic from the 10, the symptoms begin to fade.
If I may wax clinical for a moment, there are two types of midlife crisis that are most prevalent. The first: a fairly minor case that comes and goes usually triggered by one particular aspect of a person’s life. “The I hate my job!” kind of thing. The second: a major systemic failure of a life—the kind of midlife crisis that I can personally speak to in great detail. Now the great thing about suffering from the latter is, that it is fairly simple to cheer up those that suffer from the former. And I personally find some satisfaction in the circumstance of being the guy people want to hang with when they think, they’ve got problems…
After driving a few miles up the coast the thought, “What the f*** I’m I stressing about dancing in your head,” it’s time to stop at The Fish Grill, in Malibu, and get some fish tacos, which Lisa and I certainly did. Continue reading