We had a cocktail and some lovely tasting beer in the first bar we frequented, [and] being the geeks we are, we enjoyed a light round or two of the game Yahtzee.
With the aforementioned earnest-flute man standing by, eyes closed in rapture, singing and finger-clicking along, it proved somewhat difficult to be a mature audience. Catherine joined in the harmonising in order to relieve any energy which might otherwise had manifested into a Grade 1 giggly-fit, but I instead chose to stare into the Washington State landscape.
Santa Monica beach was brill, and we hired bikes and felt like I was in The OC. Plus, all the Baywatch lifeguards and musclemen on the beach were hilarious.
Fugitive Motel Travel Diaries: Coming to America, Part 3 – Fort Worth, San Antonio, and the road to Los Angeles
Still not sure what a honky tonk is, but we went to one. Think a big barn dance with games machines, a bull ring, multiple bars and people dressed as cowboys.
They drove us to a Mexican restaurant, where a suspicious Martina ‘Columbo’ Booth here kept querying them about their wives, in a seeming attempt to gauge their authenticity.
We played at being FBI agents, and were thus ID'd a ridiculous number of times.
In the spirit of those intrepid travellers who have gone before them, Catherine Bolsover and Martina Booth brave suspicious immigration officers, over-zealous New York nurses and dodgy Texans to discover just where North America's at in 2007, starting their trip in Toronto, Canada.