Sunday, 25 July 2010
...one long horrible bitch-ass journey home tomorrow. Due to a circus of ineptitude that only James and I could manage between us, he booked his flight home a day earlier than mine and so here I am on what should be the last day of our holiday, on my own in a hotel room overlooking LAX.
But don't cry for me, it's a gorgeous hotel – The Custom Hotel – and as I type, from my bed, I can see planes taking off and landing, under a full moon. And frankly, after two weeks of crazy running around, I'm happy to be in bed, eating a supper of raspberries and cherries and downing water in preparation for my horrible journey tomorrow.
Anyway, I'll be back blogging next week and I warn you now, it'll probably be pretty America-centric for a while. Right, now I'm going to watch James' plane take off from my bed. How strange.
Oh, on the note of strangeness, a quick story from last night. We were cycling down Venice Boulevard on our ridiculously huge beach cruisers, I was in front and suddenly heard James shouting, 'PULL OVER!', with a degree of urgency that is unusual for him. So I pulled over, looked behind me and coming towards us, careening down the road, was a car that had obviously just been in a crash and had one of its front tyres burning away, leaving a trail of sticky burnt rubber on the road and veering out of control. As it went past us the remains of the tyre flew off and the wheel hub was hitting the tarmac and sparking. And still the driver didn't stop.
Recounting this story to a local later and wondering if it was out of the norm, they said, 'Yeah, that's crazy. Even for LA.'
I'm looking forward to getting home, dudes.
[The pictures are from a ridiculously pimpin' pool party that was taking place when I got here. I wanted to go but was too scared on my own. I'm calling red plimsolls as a popular look for dudes for fall. And check out the guy on the right's amazing look in the picture below. I had to take these on my iPhone so the genius is slightly lost.]