Crystal clear in my Sunday beer and second Bloody Mary, I stare down indecision with sun-protected vision as Hollyween turns scary, Universal CityWalk, engage in see-through PR talk, then off to where my lair be. Universal CityWalk, Los Angeles
There's a film shoot in Pershing Square, a PA replete in urban cowboy garb checks her list as she hustles to Starbucks; meanwhile, a block away on Olive Street, there's a platoon of LAPD surrounding a shackled vagrant who is shouting, "I'm going back to the jailhouse, gonna eat three meals and a hot cock," between fits of maniacal laughter.
Prior to my flight from NY to LA, I scavenged an assortment of pharmaceuticals necessary for smooth travel. I popped a Xanax while waiting to board and once in my seat, I chased it with a vike. The girl next to me was young and attractive, which is contrary to the odd-smelling geriatric I usually get. I found the cabin temperature to be cool, but she stripped down to a skimpy tank-top and gently brushed my side as she shifted her position. Any attempt at speech on my part would have played out like a tranquilized Will Farrell in Old School. I drifted off, eyes closed and neurons dancing gaily to the iPod shuffle. I arrived at LAX in a proper frame of mind. My luggage spit out promptly and my dear friend Janine was waiting outside the terminal. We whisked off in her sporty convertible to a Mexican restaurant, where I immediately ordered a margarita. Day two in the downtown office and a colleague suggested I check out the Dresden, which was featured in the movie Swingers. As it was o