I had been looking forward to this trip for months. I had somehow never been to California and I was due. It was also going to be a magical reunion with friends I had made in Germany. My roommate, Aussie, was one of my best girl friends while I was there. She was hilarious and we would at times have laughing fits over nothing that would last for way too long. She was en route for a grand South America tour and she had arranged for a week long layover in LA. This was especially convenient since this is where Baby J lives. Baby J, was my other very good friend in Germany. He was a fellow American and the two of us, along with our other crazy friend, formed Team USA (he would wear the fictional blue jumpsuit and I, the white). He is much younger than me, but since neither of us act our age it is a perfect recipe for us to be friends.
My flight to LA was leaving very early in the morning the day after Christmas, so I was forced to take an overnight bus trip back to New York from Syracuse. I left the Christmas coziness and my family behind and rode the bus for 5 hours where I got right on the subway to go to JFK. Once settled on the train, I looked around and realized that I was the only person, who was not a sleeping homeless person. That explained the pungent smell. I tightened my grip on my bags and decided I was too tired to change trains, unless one of them bothered me (they didn't, though two did go in between the cars to pee at one point). The only perk of arriving to the airport at 4AM was the easiest check-in I have ever had. I napped at the gate until it was time to leave (on time!), boarded the plane, and proceeded to nap until we landed in LAX.
The weather outside was glorious and I hadn't seen a sky that blue in roughly 4 months. The sun was so bright that I was squinting for the first half hour I was there. The reunion with Baby J and Aussie was magical, and we picked up right where we had left off, just like I had with the Mexican when he visited NYC. The three of us squeezed into Baby J's little truck and went to get some food in Manhattan Beach, which was the exact opposite of Manhattan and in a wonderful way. It was a delightful little town right on the beach and this is when I fell in love with the scenery of Southern California. Having grown up in one of the ugliest places in the country (Syracuse, NY), I could not even believe how people would take something like this for granted.
The three of us caught up and discussed people we had been abroad with in Germany. Baby J had recently had the 3rd member of Team USA stay with him for a month while he "looked" for a job--which basically entailed partying every night, eating all of his roommates' food, and drinking 40s on Baby J's porch, so he could act like he was "really in Long Beach". Speaking of which, we hadn't gone there yet, so after swinging by Baby J's apartment to drop off our shiz and shower, we headed to the harbor to check out a giant cruise ship which was docked there. Except it cost $18 to go on board and we all said "fuck that shit". Instead Baby J decided to try a different approach. This boat was also a hotel, so he waltzed up to the doorman and informed him that "our mom had our key'. The doorman suspiciously asked what color it was, and Aussie and I were laughing too hard to play along, so Baby J gave up on this. We headed into downtown Long Beach instead and of course ended up at a bar, Baby J's fav. It was pretty awesome but I obliviously ordered one of the strongest beers on tap and since I hadn't eaten in a few hours I was slightly tipsy pretty quickly. Aussie and Baby J were amused by this, and also my accidental pseudo-racist comment, "that's a black school" and my almost constant (but silent!) burping. What a delight, I am.
The thing about California which surprised me was the drastic drop in temperature at night. I should've figured, it being a desert and all, but I was ill-prepared for these temperatures and the lack of heat in Baby J's freezing cold house. While he and Aussie, cooked dinner, I huddled under a pile of blankets. After his friend met us and we all headed to the hookah bar a few blocks away. At this point Aussie and I were getting delirious from lack of sleep and this is where the chain laughter really got out of control. The chain laughter is as follows: Aussie thinks Baby J's laugh is hilarious, so when he really starts laughing this causes her to really start laughing. I come in because I laugh at Aussie trying to keep it together but failing. Of course this all makes us laugh harder and it's a vicious cycle. I don't know what exactly started the chain this time, but I do remember, through a hookah haze, all of us laughing at a snarky comment I made--a girl next to us informed her friends to not think she was rich and my response under my breath was "don't worry we didn't". The silliness continued back at Baby J's. Apparently he and Aussie had devised a plan earlier in the day to scare me with this spiky dog chew toy. While we were falling asleep, Aussie got very close to me and casually tossed it onto me. When I felt its weirdness I screamed and threw it away from me, where it landed smack on Baby J's neck. There is no way that would've happened if I had tried.
After catching up on sleep, the next day we were headed to the Getty, per my request. On the drive from Long Beach to LA, I experienced an infamous traffic jam, which wasn't any worse than I expected. That is until we got to the Getty. We had unknowingly come on a free day and apparently every person in Southern California was taking advantage. It took us forever to get inside, but it was worth it for the views. We took many pictures, courtesy of Asian tourists, whom Aussie asked because "they take millions of pictures anyway". Next it was on to Hollywood where we had dinner at a sushi place. We ordered beers and Baby J informed me that he was surprised because he thought I "would be drunk the entire time". Apparently my reputation from Hamburg precedes me.
We were going out on the town that night but the only problem was, we weren't sure where. I had been contacted by a bartender I had made out with in New Orleans who had moved to LA. He saw I was in town and wanted to meet up. That is, until his "girlfriend came home from vacation early" (yes he actually admitted that). To make up for this, I had him send us a list of places we could go. The first was a dive-y bar with a lot of hipsters. We had a drink then decided to head to the next place on the list. But first we took a detour through Beverly Hills, each selecting our multiple mansions. To make it even better Baby J had some ridiculous songs on his ipod--Cookies with a Smile (chunky!) and Call me Up (Chromeo!) became our anthems for the week. Another notable moment during our California cruising was when we were stopped at light. A guy in an oversized, horsehair, cowprint jacket swaggered across the street. Right on cue, Aussie states "sweet jacket" and all three of us lost for the next 15-20 minutes. We finally reached our destination which was the Library Bar, in the lobby of the Roosevelt Hotel on Hollywood Boulevard. It was tiny, with no menu, just bowls of fruit and herbs on the bar. I requested some sort of whiskey drink from the bartender and was giving something delicious with fresh blackberries. Aussie requested vodka and was subsequently given a gin drink. It was then that the oldie sitting next to me asked if I liked my drink but could go no further because of Aussie and Baby J's laughter--they had been watching him try to make a move the entire time we were standing there.
After our delish drinks it was on to our next stop. We walked down the seediness of Hollywood Boulevard to discover that it was hardcore punk night at this particular bar. We immediately ruled that out. Luckily, thanks to Baby J's eagle eye, he noticed a bouncer standing next to an unmarked door nearby. Upon entering we discovered a pretty cool bar--they had good music, and a good scene, minus a few hipsters here and there. Though I kick myself--I spotted a hot one eyeing me and looked quickly away instead of taking advantage. I'm always terrible with stuff like that and probably have missed out on more than a few opportunities. We ended the night with a long, slightly drunken trek, in search of infamous In 'n Out. I had heard it rivaled Shake Shack and I was eager to try. We finally arrived at 2:05 AM to discover that it had closed at 2 AM. I was so angry that I almost kicked the door in. Dejected, we headed back to Long Beach. To be continued....
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