LA is, as it always is now that I have the means to sort of enjoy it, a beautiful nightmare. My Mapquest directions, which I had plenty of time to read in the driving longeuers (that can’t be spelled properly) of the 110, included the odd advice:
Take the US 101 N exit…..(to) …. Merge onto US 101 S
This probably would have worked, but I got trapped in the right lane during rush hour and kicked off the freeway somewhere in downtown LA. By a stroke of luck some freeway shadowing led me to Sunset, which I know from my years of gay hustling as a youth, and I did a bit more highway shadowing and soon ended up on Los Angeles Street, which is where the New Otani Hotel actually is. And really, what could be more right, more ‘here I am in LA’ than being on Los Angeles Street, right off of downtown? If I only had some sunglasses to wear tonight.
After a false pass at the parking lot exit I was in to the hotel parking lot entrance and registered. The room was bit odd. I had trouble getting the light to turn on, and while I was bent over the switch, something lightly smacked me on the top of my head.
When the light did turn on, it became clear that what had hit my head was a bit of the near torrent of a leak coming from the air-conditioning unit on the ceiling. There was a nice little puddle, which wouldn’t have concerned me much. But there was also the steady dual smacking onto the carpet of nearly matched dual leaks in the conditioning unit.
Those who only know me for my crudity and insensitivity will be surprised to hear that sleep is my “Princess and the Pea” issue. I love sleep immoderately, but find it difficult to achieve. Any noise alerts me and I start predicting the local hell of regular noises. I’m sure this was a positive trait back when saber-toothed tigers were on the loose. I’d have saved the whole tribe several times over. But in this day of garbage collections, cars containing sound systems worth twice the value of the car and, not to be too blunt, the BAGs otherworldly assortment of snores, googles, hoots, and rumbles (most of which suggest the four horsemen of the apocalypse are losing a close football game to the Hell’s Angels)?
My asleep vigilance is a positive negative (which I leave to the mathematicians amongst you to sort out).
Anyway… I turned the fan on to see if it would cover the sound of the drip. It would not.
So, I went downstairs to request a room-change and, bango-bingo, mysterioso.. was upgraded to a lovely suite. Completely unimportant for a one night stay at a hotel (most of which has already been spent in the bars – and they have THREE bars here… I can be a “nearly” drunk three times while actually working on a staggering hangover for tomorrow’s wedding. If that isn’t a good vacation, I don’t know what is)
So I got all set up in the new room, and headed down to bar number one in the lobby. Two Mex-Am women already drunk and highly entertaining. A guy from El Salvador. Some woman (probably my age) in vast need of stick-reduction-surgery so her lower alimentary tract could relax and so she could shut down “Outlook” and at least touch the one light beer she had ordered.
A grand time was had by all, except the woman with the broomstick impacted fundament.
Then, as the lower bar closes at 10, I moved up to the upper bar.
Where I still sit, having left two messages for my alleged relatives, who are apparently off in Japantown eating at some restaurant that is soon to show up on “Kitchen Hell” with a floor manager pleading, “you can’t kill the cockroaches, we’d have to come up with a new ‘sweet and crunchy’ sauce.”
I suspect I will have one more beer, hook up to the tubes here (THEY FREAKING CHARGE BY THE MINUTE! THAT IS NOT A SIGN OF A QUALITY HOTEL!!!!) and then see if they have porno on the cables.
That should pretty much bore me to sleep.
And as I sit here preparing to go, I see something new.. the bartendress tosses a handful of the (hottish) party-mix (nuts, chex, that kind of thing) they serve into a Styrofoam cup and then pours diet coke on top of the thing. Is this a drink, appetizer, or emetic?
It shocks me so badly I order another beer.
Just for my nerves.
Which are also rattled by the effeminate faced and hair-doed Japanese guy here in suits sharper than razors.
But now it is time to focus on the Angels game. Since I’m here in the city of angeles and all.
HAH.. just as I typed that, some Red Sox dude with Predator hair hit a game-ending home run and totally bummed out this room….
It’s enough to give me hope --- that when I head up to my room and chew a half a sleeping pill it will send me to the Emergency Room and I will have an excuse to NOT attend my Uncles’ wedding in the AM.
I am never that lucky.