If New York is the place where people came from all over the world to make their dreams come true, L.A. must be where they go to see them die. After a six hour flight from JFK we landed at LAX just after dark. The cab ride to our hotel in Burbank cost $105. As we approached downtown LA my eyes began to water and I started sneezing. The kids' noses began to run. The air was thick with dirty, nasty smog. Not even the sight of the Staples Centre, home of the Lakers, or Dodger Stadium could raise my spirits. The traffic was ten lanes wide and a parking lot. I started humming the last verse of that Tom Russell song, Blue Wing, that I last wrote about in Wenatchee, outside of Seattle: "He made his way to LA. And that's where he died. No one knew his christian name and there was no one there to cry." Surely this is the most pitiful place on earth, I thought as I fell asleep to the sounds of an air conditioner - sorrily missing the horns and sirens of upper west side Manhattan.
That's howI felt last night. I awoke this morning expecting the worst and prepared to soldier through the next 48 hours. With Deb and the kids still asleep I headed across Hollywood Way to a Starbucks and out of the blue started humming the tune of "All I Wanna to Do," by Sheryl Crow. A woman on the plane had recommended that we make our way to Santa Monica to visit the beach and the famous pier that juts out into the Pacific. "Until the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard." Then lyrics from Tom Petty, the Eagles, Guns and Roses and Kenny Chesney started running through my head. "Perhaps," as the Grinch said to himself on the summit of Mount Krumpit, "perhaps LA is about more than just celebrities, hand bags, theme parks and stars." Yes, perhaps it's about rock and roll legends, beaches and bars!
All we'd planned to do while we were here was rest up between flights and take the kids to Universal Studios to get the crap scared out of them by King Kong (who never made it further west than 5th Ave. NYC btw). The thought of sitting in an open air tour bus gawking at celebrity homes and designer stores on Rodeo Drive made me want to string myself up. We needed to hit the road for the day, I realized. Get a car and drive to the beach and see what all those songs were about.
What a great day! We managed to get ourselves a Mustang Rag Top for less than our cab fare and turned south towards Hollywood and Santa Monica right before noon. We cruised up and down Hollywood Boulevard and the Sunset Strip a few times and soaked up the legendary bars and hotels where rock and roll and social history were made in the 1960s and 70s. Hollywood and Vine, the Roxbury, Whiskey a Go-Go, the Rainbow. These were the clubs where the Doors, Led Zepplin, Jimi Hendrix, Van Halen, Motley Cru, the Beach Boys, the Eagles, Janis Joplin, the Mamas and the Papas etc etc made their US breakouts. Who gives a rat's arse where Jennifer Aniston lives, Ozzy and Mickey Rourke still call Sunset Blvd. home!
Next we cruised down Santa Monica Blvd. with the top down, passing Beverley Hills, Ventura Blvd, UCLA and Berkley. The beach, while shrouded in either thin radiant fog or smog, was incredible. A quarter mile of white sand stretched left and right for as far as the eye could see. The kids played in the water as we made our way over to the Pier. Now this place has been in countless movie scenes, but the only one I could bring to mind was the Seinfeld episode shot in LA where George runs down the pier scaring off the seagulls after coming to some epiphany. Anyone remember that show? Hello? Is anybody out there?
The kids rode the roller coaster and the scrambler before we made our way down the beach to Venice. Now I knew nothing about this place other than hearing Roddy and Tanis Stirling rave about it. Good enough for me. What a spot! We strolled up and down the board walk people watching, listening to street music and F-Bombs, eating great food and just soaking up the amazing southern-California vibe. For many of the denizens of this place, the 60s never ended. You can tell these guys are simply holding on to a moment in time, with no interest in moving on. To hell with grunge. These guys are still bitter about disco! We finally had to break down and tell the kids what that funny smell wafting over us from all corners was. "Can we go into the Green Doctor daddy?" No sweetheart, not until your 18.
We really didn't want to leave Venice Beach. Ever. But we knew the kids wanted a swim before bed. We drove up the San Diego Freeway until we hit the fabled Mullholland Drive. The kids didn't mind the twisty road with the top down and the classic rock blazing out Seger's Hollywood Nights. The views of the Sierra Madre Mountains, the LA skyline, Hollywood and Malibou were spectacular. We stopped at a lookout where we spotted the HOLLYWOOD sign for the first time and witnessed the sky turn 50 shades of red as the sun sizzled into the Pacific. People flock to the hills at sunset here and we can see why. Our lookout was right over the Hollywood Bowl where a crowd was gathering for a Zac Brown Band concert. "Are they the ones who sing the "Bum in the Sand" song daddy?" You got it honey! The lights of the traffic heading into LA were as impressive as the lights of the City itself. We ended the night off with a swim in the hotel's pool under a starry night. The kids are sawing logs up in the room right now and Deb and I are down in the bar (is that legal?) listening to the young bar tenders discuss their dreams of being discovered and making the big time. Me, I'm happy to have had some fun today on Santa Monica Boulevard and making it up Mullholland Drive, high above the lights of town ("You and Tequila" in case you didn't catch the reference). Tomorrow we do Universal Studios and then head back to LAX for our first real international flight of the trip. I'm still not sure what to think of LA. I think we got a good taste of it and I'm interested in learning more about the history of the place (from the perspective of Slash and Richards not TMZ). I think I'd stop over here in the summer en route to somewhere more interesting to taste the beach life in full swing. I'd definitely come back as a 22 year old and never leave Venice Beach. At the 50 yard line of my life, however, I'm content to listen to my kids squeal in a princess-free theme park tomorrow and then eat my body weight in fresh mango and fish in the South Pacific for a week.
I'll check in again from both the other hemispheres soon. Until then ...
"When you see the Southern Cross for the first time. You understand now why you came this way. 'Cause the truth you might be runnin' from is so small. But it's as big as the promise, the promise of a comin' day."