Two weeks back from Kauai, and I've already spent one weekend traveling yet again. This time, destination: Los Angeles.
After a last-minute rendevous Friday night at the House of Blues in Anaheim for a favorite band of mine, Unwritten Law, I packed it up Saturday and headed Northbound on the 405. My first stop was El Segundo to visit two very special friends of mine who recently left O.C. for life in the City of Angels.
Yes, in Orange County, we do not call it "The O.C." but rather "O.C." Well, not until that show came around and changed thing's around. The same one that made the world think we all have mothers with fake chichis and who boink our ex-boyfriends. These are mere half-truths. T.V. tryin'a claim everything these days! Yet, I digress...
My girl, K, and I hit up Beverly Hills for some bomb pizza and dessert, and then jet-set down (or up?) to the Sunset strip. If anyone in L.A. is looking for entertainment and simply can't find any, well, I don't know what to say other than go to Sunset Blvd. and you'll find plenty! We cruised along until we found street parking (at 10 p.m., not as hard as you'd think on a Saturday night), and made our way past all sorts of diverse bars, restuarants, and clubs. K made the point that on Sunset, you can be or do anything you want and no one will bat an eyelash. Right as she said that, almost on cue, a guy began playing with a volleyball in the middle of the sidewalk. We barely moved, stepped Wizard of Oz style around him, and kept on.
Being the rock fan that I am, I had to see the Whiskey-A-Go-Go (just call it "the Whiskey"), the Roxy, and the Viper Room. Amazingly, the diversity of the people on this street changes with warp speed. From where we parked, near Mel's Diner to between the Whiskey and the Roxy, I saw the real edge of L.A. style emerge from tattooed, punked out and emo kids in a fashion I haven't even seen in New York. Studying this grunge-to-anti-perfection look, I grew convinced that West Coast flavor encapsules true authenticity of mess and style that others emulate but somehow can't quite get. Bummer that we didn't have tickets for the shows but we did venture into On the Rox -the sidebar of the Roxy. The iridescent blue lights and loungy tables set a perfect mood for the emo band which came on (the name somehow evaded me). Basically, the feel was very Barcelon-esque that had me nostalgic and not wanting to leave. Yet, in interest of preserving our ears from the shit speakers and to see more of the night, we hit it up across the street to the baddest and best of sex shops: Hustler, of course.
The Hustler shop takes up what seems to be a full street block, and is full of all sorts of fun costumes, toys, videos, and knick-knacks for your ballsack. Err...nevermind. I'll spare major detail so you have to use your imagination, if you dare. We shared giggles mostly pointing and laughing, mouthing mid-air, "What the f---?!"s, and imagining how fun Halloween could be this year with the costumes and paraphernalia. Time came to move on as the liquor faded and we realized it was now 12 a.m., a.k.a. time to check out more of the scenery we could probably see as similarly outside the store as we did inside -with more drinks.
We eventually made it down to Red Rock, what I'd describe as an L.A. college bar. Though slightly more trendy than your normal college bar (duh!), I felt right at home with the young and mellow crowd. At this time, we noticed that the normal crowd for a Saturday just wasn't out, maybe given that UCLA still hadn't started yet. That probably lent to a more grounded vibe than what could be a normal night here when school's in full swing. Something tells me it will mirror a step-up from a frat party, where models hang on their down'n'dirty nights: sexy and fun with a bit less maintenance.
How could we end this night without some drunk-food, Sunset style? We couldn't, so we hit up Mel's, of course! According to my dad, Mel's has been there since he was young (and we know that's a long time ago). Back then, Dad was (probably) cutting school with some other surf bums when a handful of Playboy hunnies came in and started yanking the chains of these 16 year-old boys. My dad and his cronies hardly knew what to say to these real women with real bosoms (they weren't plastic back in the 60's) and probably choked on their hamburgers. Mel's is still the place to be and be seen on the strip, especially at 2 a.m. I haven't been to a diner this packed since Denny's near Leisure World during Sunday specials. The Sunset burger was what the doctor ordered, and we went home with full-bellies and good memories to kick off my first night out in L.A. Good times!
Sunday afternoon, I headed down to Redondo Beach to visit another good friend. The pier was really impressive for the selection of food (fish market!), divey beach bar entertainment, and the art festival which closed out the weekend. We enjoyed carnival-style attractions in the arcade for really cheap -where there was even a Tilt-a-Whirl which took me back to the Sandlot. Rather than a creepy, carnie vibe, the pier hosts good, mostly-clean fun. A good mariachi band even cruised for listeners and won my ears, too.
When the time came to hit it back down South on the 405, something came over me. As I passed the 22-Freeway near Garden Grove, diversity of activity and landscape seemed to erase. The Orange Curtain, as it is known, pulled back to show me large shopping centers, sky-high financial buildings, overly-landscaped plots, and several varieties of Mercedes. I was back from my getaway, back in the O.C., that is -which I wonder if it maybe isn't so different from the show after all.
After a last-minute rendevous Friday night at the House of Blues in Anaheim for a favorite band of mine, Unwritten Law, I packed it up Saturday and headed Northbound on the 405. My first stop was El Segundo to visit two very special friends of mine who recently left O.C. for life in the City of Angels.
Yes, in Orange County, we do not call it "The O.C." but rather "O.C." Well, not until that show came around and changed thing's around. The same one that made the world think we all have mothers with fake chichis and who boink our ex-boyfriends. These are mere half-truths. T.V. tryin'a claim everything these days! Yet, I digress...
My girl, K, and I hit up Beverly Hills for some bomb pizza and dessert, and then jet-set down (or up?) to the Sunset strip. If anyone in L.A. is looking for entertainment and simply can't find any, well, I don't know what to say other than go to Sunset Blvd. and you'll find plenty! We cruised along until we found street parking (at 10 p.m., not as hard as you'd think on a Saturday night), and made our way past all sorts of diverse bars, restuarants, and clubs. K made the point that on Sunset, you can be or do anything you want and no one will bat an eyelash. Right as she said that, almost on cue, a guy began playing with a volleyball in the middle of the sidewalk. We barely moved, stepped Wizard of Oz style around him, and kept on.
Being the rock fan that I am, I had to see the Whiskey-A-Go-Go (just call it "the Whiskey"), the Roxy, and the Viper Room. Amazingly, the diversity of the people on this street changes with warp speed. From where we parked, near Mel's Diner to between the Whiskey and the Roxy, I saw the real edge of L.A. style emerge from tattooed, punked out and emo kids in a fashion I haven't even seen in New York. Studying this grunge-to-anti-perfection look, I grew convinced that West Coast flavor encapsules true authenticity of mess and style that others emulate but somehow can't quite get. Bummer that we didn't have tickets for the shows but we did venture into On the Rox -the sidebar of the Roxy. The iridescent blue lights and loungy tables set a perfect mood for the emo band which came on (the name somehow evaded me). Basically, the feel was very Barcelon-esque that had me nostalgic and not wanting to leave. Yet, in interest of preserving our ears from the shit speakers and to see more of the night, we hit it up across the street to the baddest and best of sex shops: Hustler, of course.
The Hustler shop takes up what seems to be a full street block, and is full of all sorts of fun costumes, toys, videos, and knick-knacks for your ballsack. Err...nevermind. I'll spare major detail so you have to use your imagination, if you dare. We shared giggles mostly pointing and laughing, mouthing mid-air, "What the f---?!"s, and imagining how fun Halloween could be this year with the costumes and paraphernalia. Time came to move on as the liquor faded and we realized it was now 12 a.m., a.k.a. time to check out more of the scenery we could probably see as similarly outside the store as we did inside -with more drinks.
We eventually made it down to Red Rock, what I'd describe as an L.A. college bar. Though slightly more trendy than your normal college bar (duh!), I felt right at home with the young and mellow crowd. At this time, we noticed that the normal crowd for a Saturday just wasn't out, maybe given that UCLA still hadn't started yet. That probably lent to a more grounded vibe than what could be a normal night here when school's in full swing. Something tells me it will mirror a step-up from a frat party, where models hang on their down'n'dirty nights: sexy and fun with a bit less maintenance.
How could we end this night without some drunk-food, Sunset style? We couldn't, so we hit up Mel's, of course! According to my dad, Mel's has been there since he was young (and we know that's a long time ago). Back then, Dad was (probably) cutting school with some other surf bums when a handful of Playboy hunnies came in and started yanking the chains of these 16 year-old boys. My dad and his cronies hardly knew what to say to these real women with real bosoms (they weren't plastic back in the 60's) and probably choked on their hamburgers. Mel's is still the place to be and be seen on the strip, especially at 2 a.m. I haven't been to a diner this packed since Denny's near Leisure World during Sunday specials. The Sunset burger was what the doctor ordered, and we went home with full-bellies and good memories to kick off my first night out in L.A. Good times!
Sunday afternoon, I headed down to Redondo Beach to visit another good friend. The pier was really impressive for the selection of food (fish market!), divey beach bar entertainment, and the art festival which closed out the weekend. We enjoyed carnival-style attractions in the arcade for really cheap -where there was even a Tilt-a-Whirl which took me back to the Sandlot. Rather than a creepy, carnie vibe, the pier hosts good, mostly-clean fun. A good mariachi band even cruised for listeners and won my ears, too.
When the time came to hit it back down South on the 405, something came over me. As I passed the 22-Freeway near Garden Grove, diversity of activity and landscape seemed to erase. The Orange Curtain, as it is known, pulled back to show me large shopping centers, sky-high financial buildings, overly-landscaped plots, and several varieties of Mercedes. I was back from my getaway, back in the O.C., that is -which I wonder if it maybe isn't so different from the show after all.
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