Where is Manhattan Beach?

No its not in New York...its in California of course.

I departed early from Augusta, GA (5:00 A.M. early) and arrived in Atlanta just in time to catch my flight to DFW (Dallas Fort Worth). Along the way I met a tall man with a large belt buckle, a ten gallon hat, and a pair of cowboy boots. Who was he?

I greeted the gentleman and instantly realized he wasn't just your regular old cowboy. He was a professional! A professional cowboy, you ask? Yes. He works for the Brangus Beef Breeders Association (http://www.int-brangus.org/).

The Brangus Beef Breeders Association is a group of beef cattle ranchers. This gentleman was not only a rancher but a liaison between the market, the USDA, the breeders, the packers and the ranchers. Whew...sounds like a lot huh? Yes, but this is the process behind our Big Mac's and sirloins.

Upon arriving to Dallas I followed the tall cowboy off to lunch. We got so caught up in an invigorating conversation about cap tax and the pressures that it is putting on the ranching industry that I missed my connecting flight to Los Angeles.

I ran to the gate and saw that a plane was still there. We weren't set to depart for 15 minutes. I looked around but saw no one. Slowly, the plane pulled back from the jet bridge and off they took. Sigh, I was stranded.

I exited through security and attempted to re-book into LAX. It, of course, was $600 to do so. So, I went back through the impressive security (much more thorough than any I've seen) and headed to a small pub to pass the next 9 hours away while I was waiting on standby to fly to Burbank.

Luckily I ran into Clark Jensen and his son who were traveling back to LA from a weekend trip to Dallas. Why is this important, you may ask; and who is Clark Jensen? Clark is the COO of United Cerebral Palsy of Los Angeles (http://www.ucpla.org/).

As we talked, I realized that Clark and I had many things in common. His background, like mine, is in political science. However, Clark took a non-profit administration path with the Red Cross in Washington, DC for some time before becoming the COO at UCPLA. Ironic, at best, that I ran into him, as I was traveling to Manhattan Beach, CA for Prudential's Special Needs Solutions certification program. Looking forward to helping families with loved ones who have special needs that require some special financial planning, I boarded the plane to Burbank at 8:00 P.M. central time.

It was another four hours to Burbank. I watched out my window as the lights of the western cities rolled beneath the plane. As we passed over dark mountains and then over large cities, I wondered where I was. The darkness splashed by lights soon became lights and glitter as we passed over Los Angeles and Hollywood bound for Burbank. I was so tired that I couldn't decide if I was imagining or not, but the hills of Hollywood did appear to sparkle as we passed over.

Arriving in Burbank at 2:00 A.M. EST, I was exhausted. My bags had arrived on an earlier flight and were far ahead of me. It took me two hours in the small airport to find an AA rep to retrieve my bags. Finally, I settled on a shuttle for the hour trip to Manhattan Beach. The friendly policeman suggested Speedy Shuttle (over there where the men in the blue coats are).

I rolled my luggage over to the vans and spoke with the men in the blue coats. A large crowd waited by two yellow buses and one blue one. The men rambled back and forth in a language that I had never heard and we agreed to a $50 ride to Manhattan Beach. I crawled into the blue bus and waited for the rest of the crowd, but they never came. They all scattered about into the two yellow buses ahead of me. I was alone.

The man struggled to get the lights on and we were off. Terrified, I shot out a text message to a friend back on the East Coast who owns a small bar (I knew he was up at 3 A.M.). It went something like this "trapped in a van with a strange man...if you don't hear from me in an hour...or if you see news about a young girl found dead in a ditch in LA...call the police and tell them its me".

We rolled through what looked like a ghetto, stopped for gas, then passed through Disneyland, Hollywood, and Los Angeles before arriving at the Mariott in Manhattan Beach (http://www.marriott.com/hotels/travel/laxmn-manhattan-beach-marriott/).

After 22 hours of travel I settled in. Early the next morning I was greeted by Prudential's top management team and the seminar was off. Agents from all over the United States had flown in to take part in this special training. It was enlightening, exciting, and exhausting. Fourteen hours later, they turned us loose for some dinner.

Myself and a few colleagues caught a cab to downtown Manhattan Beach and settled on a small sports pub for dinner. It had an impressive menu with even better microbrews. Excellent. The guys that I was with were interested in sports and talking Clemson football...my mind wandered. Then I noticed the two guys setting right next to us. They looked like locals.

"Can you guys tell me where I can rent a surfboard", I asked. I figured this was a reasonable conversation starter seeing as how I was at the beach. The guy turned and suggested a small surf shop one street down, then paused, and threw me his business card. "My name is Lance. Call me and I'll take you surfing."

Interesting, I thought. I headed back to the hotel that night and thought about surfing the Pacific. I also thought that Lance could be a crazy maniac, but hey I only get the chance to surf the Pacific Ocean for the first time once.

The next day Lance, the guy from the sports pub, showed up at the Marriott to swoop me up for a crazy evening of surfing. As we road along I learned that he was a Produce Broker on the open market in Los Angeles. What is a produce broker you ask? Basically, they are the middleman between farmers all over the world and your store shelves. What do they do? Imagine a horrific rain storm in South America...ok...now imagine a man that is on the phone in negotiating how to get limes from a different region because the rain has just drove the price through the roof...now imagine a second phone call explaining that a semi-trailer full of those limes has just blown a tire and won't be making the delivery on time...placing the produce in danger of spoiling or rejection from the store...If you can imagine that, that is what Lance does.

We arrived at his home on 13th street about five rows back from an amazing sunset over the Pacific. He grabbed a few surfboards and we headed down to the beach. It was lined by tons of volleyball nets, million dollar homes, and a busy boardwalk. As I paddled out (or attempted to) into the cold water, I watched the sun sink slowly into the Pacific and behind the mountains of LA to the Northwest. I thought to myself, this is beautiful...Then I wondered; isn't this the time of day that sharks like to eat?

Nonetheless, I continued on. The sea was glassy and surfers dodged here and there along the side of the pier. My eight foot board lunged into a wave and I was off...literally. Pummeled by the wave I flipped end over end, scraped the bottom and slid across the sand. Water rushed up my nose as I pulled for the surface.

Grabbing a new board I managed to make it back out to the end of the pier. Lance came along to help and grabbed the back of my board as a large wave approached. I made the mistake of looking. The wave rose up like a monster and I screamed as Lance pushed the board into the breaking wave. Again, the washing machine was turned to high and I was the choice garment for washing. This time I got knocked in the head by the board and decided that the waves were too big for an east coast girl like myself.

We made our way back to the house and then back out to the downtown streets of Manhattan Beach. It was an eclectic crowd of twenty to thirty somethings who gathered at street side restaurants and pubs. Families, singles, kids...the artist, the businessman, the local town surfer...you name it, they were all there.

As I parted with California the next day I left with a new opinion of California people and great memories. Manhattan Beach and the people that are there are some of the nicest people I've ever met along my journeys. They, by far, changed my mind and my opinions that I had formed in 2004 when I visited LA (but that's another story).

As we took off from Burbank, the city streets rolled away as the mountains rolled up. I settled into my seat for a long flight back to Atlanta, satisfied with the journey.