LAist has a really bizarre camping experience.
And by that we don't mean that Jason Vorhees popped up during the night, nor did the Blair Witch underwhelm us with hype. This was far more insidious, and really left us with a foul taste in our mouths.
Memorial Day Weekend - a long-standing holiday tradition for this weekend involves "getting out of town". Traveling somewhere. Hitching up your skirts and moseying down the lane. You get it. For this auspicious occasion we decided that a camping trip was in order. For the location, we had chosen our very own Angeles National Forest, located northeast of LA (and north of Pasadena, for those of you counting, or those of you who own compasses) in the San Gabriel Mountains.
Their website bills it as "the backyard playground to the huge metropolitan area of Los Angeles". Hmm. Well, if this is our backyard, then LAist is going to play the cranky neighbor. We're going to be even more bratty than the little red-headed girl who used to spy on the family in "Small Wonder". Oh yes, we're going there.