On Tuesday Nov 16th I flew, in a plane, from NZ to LAX on American Average Airlines, although they usually shorten their abbreviation down to AA for marketing purposes.

The cabin crew were lovely, but so are my grandparents, and that doesn't make them good air hostesses. It seemed the crew came fresh out of retirement for a paid return trip down to NZ, I think the pitch wen't something like this: "If you can serve cocktails and microwaved food, un-wedge the "big boned" people from the toilet doors and use some common sense or don't the jobs yours".

The service was as organised as a 5 year old football game with no referee, and the games played on ice and the kids are blindfolded and given giant ice creams, and it's not an actually soccer game it's a fine dinning restaurant. Credit to the AA though, many people have given up their alcohol addictions thanks to their work, and credit to American Airlines, the food got served if not eaten, no fat people stuck and the plane landed with the wheels down.  

I then got an UBER to Laguna Beach in a pimp mobile, quite literally, The Egyptian driver told me he takes guys down to Mexico for "Boys trips" at a strip club he's partnered with. I told him Laguna beach was fine for me and the only lube I was using this week was bike lube, however I didn't verbalise the last bit. 

I arrived at a friends house in Laguna Beach and was greeted with warm weather, a warm welcome and a story about my friend Sammy driving an elderly British couple to the hospital who thought they were going to die after smoking too much pot.

I wake up the next morning and it was like waking up in a Tom Ford film where I was perched on picturesque cliff over looking the beach with the waves and sunrise selfies crashing below. The waves are unlike back home, they are a shore break and break literally on the shore funnily enough. And even more funnily enough they catch suspecting ankle dippers out and turn them in to face first exfoliating sand dippers, washing them up beach like a wet cat in tumble drier.

I end up making myself at home for a few days, joining up at the local yoga studio, trying every kombucha brand under the Laguna Sun, trying not to die on my daily swim and reading up on the latest Trump news. I also make a video interviewing local asking if i'm really in the real OC which went down a treat on the instagram. I also got a hair cut ad the long locks were getting too high in maintenance and I met a local yoga instructor Tim Senasi who has a great last name, even though it't not pronounced like that of a martial arts master, he is a master of sorts and senses including humour. He was also generous enough to take me surfing at Trestles which was a real bonus. The wave their were the best i've fell off on. I was the only rookie in the water and the only man brave enough not to wear a wetsuit. I got a few waves and then Tim hooked me up with a few fejoas he found in his backyard and we recorded a podcast which was very insightful and of high quality unlike my recording set up which managed to ruin  the audio. Still you can listen in here and do yoga with Tim online here.  

After a few days I was having so much fun I almost forget what I left NZ for, to ride a bike down from Vancouver to Mexico/look cool and adventurous. So after overstaying a few days I pick up my bike from a guy named Ron who was a "Don"! Got it boxed up and then UBER-ed up to LA.

LA is bananas big! I stay with my friend Sammy who's name isn't short for Sandwich in case you're wondering. I go to the world's happiest yoga class with Steve Ross, which was a laugh and sweat to Nelly and Tupac. And I go to Venice Beach where I met some NZ friends at a trendy health cafe called Kreation on Abbot Kinney where they put chlorophyll in your water to help you stay hydrated which was trendier than garlic oregano favoured salts. 

I then flew out at 5am the next morning to Canada and the start of my adventure/anxiety. To be continued...