Developing a roll of film always feels like opening up a box of Cracker Jacks. Do people even know what Crack Jacks are anymore?
Growing up, Palm Springs always felt like California's back yard. The place my family visited for long weekends. My father and uncles would pile all of us kids in their cars and race from the suburbs of San Gabriel all the way to Palm Springs. I use the word "race" loosely, as it mainly involved driving their sedans as far above the speed limit as they could manage in weekend traffic while eluding CHP. I don't recall if we even wore seat belts- it was a simpler, more dangerous, more carefree time. The loser lost face and was the last to hit the pool.
Our vacations involves spending as much time in the water as possible. We'd drive by the tourist attractions like the Aerial Tramway without a second glance. It is only in coming back to California from abroad that I find I can behave like a tourist and see it from its proper vantage point. I missed you Palm Springs.