BAKA does LA
Written and photographed by Sofa
You’d expect at this hour in the morning that one would rise to their alarm like a corpse clawing its way from the grave, lumbering out of their room, blinking, to conduct their morning routine, like some hibernating beast disturbed from slumber and emerging from its cave in search of something beasts like to search for after being disturbed from their hibernation.
Grogginess would have required that I’d slept in the first place, which I did not; only a brief hour or so unconscious, followed by another hazy six or so lying in my rack. I’d need only remain awake for another hour and then I’d be on the road to LA, and I’d have four hours in the car to spend predominantly dead in the back. Nonetheless, keeping myself alive for the drive to San Jose would require that I fire up the percolator and brew some coffee, likely to the ire of my sleeping roommates, were I to make too great a racket.
The drive to Ride the Pig Studios in San Jose was not unlike the one I’d grown accustomed to over the course of several weekends in nigh a row. What was unexpected, however, was the lack of traffic; I’d heaved myself out from under my sheets at 0430 under the impression that the southbound freeway would be jammed with morning commuters en-route to work. Thus, it was only after a fifteen minute stroll around the block before Cici and I drove out to pick up Kanata from the train station, returning immediately to the aforementioned Pig to cram our trip’s supply of kigurumi goods into the back of Cici’s truck.
We had eight kigurumi masks, at least ten different dresses and assorted outfits, a whole shipload of boxes filled with pads, repair supplies and hair care goods… and also all our own luggage, our own laptops, and our own cameras. Not that we needed all those outfits for the trip, but when you get locked into a serious cosplay collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can.
Our first and by far most peculiar encounter in our trip. We carried on in solemn silence.
This cluster of tacky urban sprawl apparently has enough appeal to have enticed my companions to stop here.
Fun attractions to be enjoyed by people other than us. I had fun once and it was awful.
We leave with the comforting sight of this Yule pine, as the wooden man mocks us with his placidness.
BAKA begins to hunger for seared animal flesh, and thusly stop to consume delicious nutrient substances.
We find ourselves welcomed to this warm and familiar setting with traditional Japanese architecture and furnishings.
A race of tiny men have made their home here…
…and proceed to tempt fate.
Towering above the landscape, the Tejon Pass bears host to Grapevine- the penultimate waymark on the way to the glistening utopia of Los Angeles.
As we near the final leg of our trip, we find we must first traverse what is apparently the surface of the moon.
At last we beak free from the craggy grip of the mountain pass and bear witness to our destination of Los Angeles. Such sights are there to behold within this brilliant metropolis, such as…
…This oil refinery that they apparently use in movies a lot cuz it’s close…
…Allegedly the world’s largest golf outlet…
…This billboard marking the landing place of the Goodyear Blimp that we were passing too fast for me to properly photograph…
…And this daughter of privilege.
We finally lay claim to our abode for this outing, accommodations not nearly large enough to contain Cici’s ego, nor my own bulging deltoids.
Undisclosed discussions and consuming of food took place afterwards. Finally we lay our weary bones to rest, under the ever-watchful gaze of our benevolent masters.
To be continued…
Written and photographed by Sofa
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