Last weekend I had the opportunity to revisit the city. I had meetings early Monday so I sacrificed a small part of my weekend and got into town the day before. After yet another long flight of paperwork, nodding off and struggling through the Sunday crossword, I jumped in a cab and went to my hotel which was located in L.A.'s financial district. A not so interesting thing about the financial district of many cities is that once 5:00 hits and especially the weekends, these places are desolate mazes of concrete iron and marble. Unless I was intent and content to eat room service and hang out at the hotel lobby lounge I would have to venture out and explore.
The first order of business would be to find a place to dine. L.A. is world renowned for its culinary offerings and is host to a bevvy of celebrity filled restaurants and celebrity chefs. Would it be Wolfgang Pucks, Morimotos, Nobu, or maybe the Asian fusion restaurant Roy's? Would I feast on Kobe beef, Wild salmon ceviche' and Paparedelle with wild boar ragu? No, not this time. This time I will eat at one of L.A.'s oldest and well respected dining establishments. I jumped in a cab and headed to PINK's, as in PINK's hot dog stand established 1939.
As you can see, there is a constant line of people awaiting their turn to order. There are clear ordering instructions ala' the Soup Nazi although the people there were far nicer. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that I waited in line for well over an hour and half just to order. There were numerous signs offering the different types of hot dogs. The classic chili, the 10 inch stretch chili, the Mullholland Avenue, the George Clooney and the All American which may or may not intentionally included Mexican Jalapenos. Remember, I was in L.A.
Just like L.A. itself, there was just too much and too much to choose from. I progressed through the line and mentally changed my order 9 or 10 times, and by the time I got to the front, I still hadn't decided and choked, spouting, "I'll have the Chicago Polish with everything." I have to tell you that after the ride, the wait and the carnival like atmosphere, this hot dog tasted, well, like a hot dog. Granted it was far better than the cold floaters you get at Fenway, but it was not much different than you get at a classic New England "Bah Ba Cue." On the bright side, my entire meal cost me $8.50, but my value meal also required a $23 cab fare, not too mention I was now stranded in the middle of nowhere. Genius!
With nowhere to be and plenty of places to go, me and the bowling ball that was now rolling in my stomach started walking. My new destination would be Hollywood Boulevard and the tourist traps that had eluded me when I lived out this way. I wanted to see Grumman's Chinese Theater and the Hollywood Walk of fame.
As I walked, the neighborhood and the nitrates running through my system both threatened my existence, but finally I found myself on the Walk of Fame which to be honest looks like something you'd see in front of any Hard Rock Cafe.
As Ray Davies of the Kinks once sang, "You can see all the stars as you walk down Hollywood Boulevard" and you can. It goes on forever and you can see some legendary names like Bogart, McQueen and Will Smith, but there are also a lot of questionable stars as well. Ansen Williams form Happy Days, The Original 5th Dimension, Jimmy JJ Walker? Really? I seem to recall that celebrities can actually buy their won star. I figure this is what Gary Coleman did with his cash instead of invest it.
As I walked I found myself at the foot of Michael Jackson's star and make shift memorial. There were a bunch of flowers and tokens of affection placed around his star. I admired this showing of affection but not as much as I admired the industrious person who recognized the marketing opportunity knowing the site would be photographed by thousands and strategically placed a bottle of orange Gatorade to gain free advertising.
I walked on and photographed a bunch of concrete with people's hand prints and foot prints in it. Isn't this illegal? How do they expect to thwart the rampant vandalism in this town if they're letting every Tom, Dick and Marylin defile public property? I walked on.
Just past the theater and at the foot of the Nokia theater there were a bunch of people gathered and crammed together. Looking across the street there was a red carpet and a lot of lights. I worked my way into the crowd which was now restless and yelling. As I looked at the street I saw a bunch of well dressed people coming our way with people in dark glasses and ear pieces around them. I realized that I was now in the middle of a swarm of live paparazzi in their natural habitat.
As the elite came closer the swarm became more active with cameras and lights, Sharpie markers and 8X10's to be autographed. They all started lunging forward to get a better shot and I began to get pushed and shoved from every direction with my only defense being short and deadly belches of Pink's coming every minute or so. I was pushed out of the way and completely missed Nicholas Cage. A cop yelled at me to get back and one of the photographers looked at my camera and wondered why I had such an amateur rig. I was out of my element.
I recognized and called out to John Voight who looked my way with disdain pegging me for one of those who regularly hide in his bushes hoping to catch him in a compromising position. Jon Favreau, Zach Galifianakis also walked by as did some young kid who I didn't recognize. No matter. I snapped 10 shots of him anyway thinking my daughter or someone under the age of 20 would know who he was. By the way she didn't and I still don't.
As quickly as I stumbled upon this scene it ended. Once again I was left stranded alone, cold and thirsty on a busy street. Man, I wish I'd had a Gatorade.
Okay so I haven't and will probably never climb Mount Everest. I haven't been to the Great Wall of China and I'm not planning to run with the bulls of Pamplona, but how many people do you know swam with the paparazzi and lived to tell about it. My only regret is that Sean Penn wasn't there to punch me in the face and Leonardo wasn't there to get his revenge.
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