As you might have noticed, most of the fictitious people I know reside in California. Let's not dwell on that. Apparently this interesting finding also goes for the Flintstones, as I stumbled on their place of residence. I've seen the 'house' time and again driving on highway 280 on my way to San Francisco International Airport. Finally, after several rides during which I was able to see the darn thing long enough to question my sanity, but never long enough to take a snapshot, I smartened up and remembered the closest exit number. Thank you Google Maps (satellite version), thank you Wikipedia and thank you Beatrice Murch, who did manage to take the picture. From the highway nonetheless. Amazing lady.
Oh, and by the way, if you love architecture (and even if you don't) you absolutely have to check out the ridiculous way the building was created. Balloons? Sounds a lot like papier-mâché to me. I wonder whether the thing shriveled up, like my papier-mâché projects always did.
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