Getting the hell out of dodge in the middle of Chicago winter - I am a fan.
This is where it got exciting. The one-hour jaunt from Phoenix to Burbank took place aboard one of those little planes, the kind where instead of a jetway, you exit the plane down a little staircase, especially when you arrive at a small airport, like Burbank. I've never done that before. I felt like the Beatles in those old pictures you see where they first came to America!! (I'm easily amused)
Now, FLYING on those little damn things is another matter. Again, I've never had to do this. Seems I've only ever flown to and from major hubs - Chicago, LaGuardia, LAX, Orlando, Sky Harbor... so Burbank was a new deal. On the way back home, the small plane/short flight from Burbank to Phoenix was a problem right away. We chose the exit row seats (leg room is important!). Well, the little plastic hatch that covers the handle of the emergency exit door kept popping open right next to my head. After the 3rd time, I discovered why. It was held on by velcro - oh yes, I said VELCRO - and the stickiness on the back of the velcro was no longer sticky, hence, the popping-open trouble.
Now, let's stop a minute. See, here's the thing. I don't want to get on a plane and, for ANY reason, see velcro. It's an airplane!! We do not fix broken items on airplanes, with VELCRO.
Dear US Airways: Are you friggin' kidding me? Thanks, Kim
(sidenote: had this been Southwest Airlines, I wouldn't have been the lest bit surprised to see velcro)
Ok, back to Cali.
It was late and we needed dinner. There was a Domino's menu in our room, so we made dinner come to us. Now - I don't particular like Domino's (hey I'm a Chicagoan... pizza is a food group and Domino's is sacrilegious) but in a pinch it will do. Barely. I've had a previous experience with pizza in California and "wet cardboard" is what comes to mind. But this is Domino's - they're national so it's all going to be the same, right?
No.
California screws up food. They just do. They also screwed up Del Taco and In & Out Burger. Hey, Californians... wander over to Arizona and have In & Out Burger. THAT is what it's supposed to taste like.
However, California managed to make up for disastrous food when I visited Porto's Bakery & Cafe at Hollywood Way and Magnolia in Burbank (I have to be specific for future personal reference. My memory sucks). Can you say "pastrygasm"? I can! And I had one. Ok I had several. Om nom nom.
Driving. Oh, dear heaven, the driving.
Now, I dealt with the 101 freeway in Phoenix for over 4 years, and I thought that was the absolute worst it could possibly get, so the idea of having to drive in CA didn't scare me that much. But I've changed my mind. Let me ask a question here... hey Californians (past or present)... who in hell taught you people how to change lanes? No I'm serious... because I have some rather urgent news: You're doing it wrong!
The term "change lanes" means you are expected to maintain your speed and drive carefully over INTO the next lane and keep going. ALL the way into the next lane. It does not mean aim your car in the general direction of the lane you hope to be in at some point in your future, traverse only halfway into said lane, and then STOP.
You can't change lanes properly, but you will ride my ass like Brokeback Mountain when I don't do 50 mph down the insanely twisty road through Laurel Canyon? I'm not going fast enough for you down a curvy mountain road where the speed limit drops below 30, but you'll stop mid-lane-change on a city street at a green light? And you wonder why people dislike CA drivers. THAT'S WHY.
(To be fair, they would visit Chicago and demand to know why we will pull out halfway across a busy road and block one side of traffic to make a left turn... that is perfectly acceptable here, so I wonder if that lane changing madness is just 'their way' out there?)
Did anything good happen on this trip in between scary, dottering airplanes and playing real-life Mario Kart down Cahuenga Blvd.? Absolutely!
After Saturday morning's frightful drive down Laurel Canyon Blvd. (which should promptly be renamed "Shit Your Pants Avenue", but whatever), we arrived at the Hollywood Walk of Fame. We parked the car in a garage, got out, and this was the first thing we saw:
I had to triple take this one. It was a walking joke...
I'd seen the walk of fame before, but it's kind of fun, and there were a few stars I've not seen, one in particular that was not there the last time I visited...
It is, of course, mandatory to sit on the stars...
And I refused to leave without seeing this one... may not be readable, but it's JOHNNY DEPP:
And of course - tribute must be paid:
And under the heading of "Absolutely Random":
One thing I had not done before was visit Madame Tussaud's, the wax museum. It's right there on the Boulevard, so ... why not, right?
It was both fun and creepy. They are not kidding around with those wax celebrities, man.
When you first enter, they tell you "step over and pose with the President!" (and by God, they are excited about it!) So we did:
Now, these figures, keep in mind, are supposed to be accurate in height, shape, etc. I'm about 5'3"ish, maybe just under 5'4"... Obama be a tall dude, mang!
Some of these figures are so real looking that it's actually a little creepy. I think it took about 20 minutes before I stopped being fully weirded out. You'd think it would be cool to sit with George Clooney, and it probably would be... but when he's staring you down and not blinking... not so much. I remember saying something to Rhi as she posed with WaxGeorge along the way of "I can't even take this picture, he's staring holes through me!"
But here we go:
Right near George was this guy (and we all know how I feel about this guy):
THUD.
But also, not thud. Also... very odd. "Oh hi there, WaxJohn. 'Sup?"
And you know what I forgot to do?! Check for... baggage. See, the figures are made to the right height and shape - so are they accurate in other ways also? I should have checked! Might have been worth getting thrown out of the museum, actually.
"Can you wire me bail money? I've been arrested in Hollywood for sexually assaulting a wax figure."
Across the way (and I refused to photograph this) were Brad and Angelina, and in Absolute Hollywood Tactless Fashion, across the room from them is a lone Jennifer Aniston, posed as if she's standing there staring at them. *shakes head* Just wow.
Now, this one was wild (in a cool way of course)... The Duke:
That guy was a skyscraper!!
So, we wandered around the rest of the museum, along the Walk of Fame some more, a nice drive through Beverly Hills and Bel Air... and then took a drive up the coast. A lovely day, overall.
Sidenote:
It's impossible to enter Bel Air and NOT start singing the Fresh Prince song if you are under 40 years old.
Matter of fact, it's impossible for someone to even mention the Fresh Prince song and not start singing it. You know you're doing it right now.
"In west Philadelphia, born and raised, on the playground is where I spent most of my days..."
On the way back to the hotel that evening, we passed a tiny shop (or house... I'm not sure) that screamed "PALM READINGS" in big neon.
This could be interesting, thought we. Actually, thought she, but I went along with it. I'm not as much a believer in that kind of stuff... cosmic unexexplainables do happen to me rather often though, so I'm not closed off to the idea.
Well, here I was sitting in the little foyer/waiting area, listening to this palm reader lady, Chanel (I believe that was it), talking to Rhiannon. The more I listened, the more stunned I was. This is almost warranting a blog of its own. But it won't. Too personal. This woman knew things she couldn't have possibly known. She described in pretty great detail (during both of our readings, actually) things that not one person outside the two of us would know. That's all I will say about that, as my only point was to illustrate my shock.
After hearing everything she told my friend, I decided that I did not want to do it. I was afraid of what I would hear and decided there just may be some things I was better of not having answers to.
But, I did it anyway. It's still hard for me to really buy the whole "psychic" thing, but I can't figure how this lady was able to describe certain things to me in such detail without me telling her anything.
So, highly weirded out by the experience (me) and also very excited about it (Rhi), we left, talking in further detail about what we'd just been told by this mysterious stranger.
I am stuck with no segue here, so basically, that was the end of the evening. Heh heh.
Sunday brought forth a trip to the Universal City Walk and another ride to the Walk of Fame area to visit a really large and very cool thrift shop on Hollywood Blvd. called Iguana Vintage Clothing.
Here you go: http://www.iguanaclothing.com/
I managed to make it out without buying anything, which I'm regretting slightly. I combed through all the old sports jerseys and tshirts looking for a specific gift and foo... found nothing that would work. I also went through all the old bowling shirts with embroidered names like Fred, Al, Don and no less than 26 Herbs. Sadly, I did not find one funny enough for me to spend $20 on.
Sunday ALSO brought the movie geek out of me. Driving down Hollywood, we passed Genesee Avenue. I had to turn. I just had to see it. HAD to see... 1428 Genesee Avenue.
You would know it as...
Squeek!
The house that was Johnny Depp's house in the movie is right across the street (just as in the film) but, if I was looking at the right one, it didn't look quite the same anymore. And I didn't take a picture. It was bad enough I stopped to photograph one stranger's home. O.o (I don't make a habit of things like that - I promise)
Then... more driving around. Now the fun part in all the driving was listening to my faithful companion completely MANGLE all the Los Angeles street names.
I recommend this, if you can. And I will also use it as my send off to you on this entry... best time you'll ever have - go to Los Angeles and take a friend who is not hooked on phonics. Endless entertainment.
