...blew into Los Angeles at around noon. We were accompanied by a playlist, including L.A. Woman, assembled by my son especially for the occasion. (The version above is an alternative one that I'd never heard before. Not as good as the original, but interesting nonetheless.)
Before we got to the City of Angels, though, we had to drive through the Mojave desert in southeastern California, which just sounds treacherous. The very word "Mojave" conjured up images in my head of gila monsters, rattlesnakes and scorpions. (I didn't actually see any of these creatures, but I knew they were out there.) "Whatever you do, Joe, don't stop the car!"
The final leg of our trip was also my last opportunity to extol the virtues of the Interstate Highway System to my son. "Yeah, I know Dad; and you couldn't build it nowadays with the tea party around -- I get it!" (But it really is amazing.)
After about a four hour drive, we got off the 405 and found UCLA in the incredibly charming neighborhood of Westwood. (I texted my wife: "Lake Forest with palm trees.") As we drove up Joe's new street I noticed an unusual yellow building and remarked on it often over the next few days. (Turns out it was once the home of Jim Morrison, probably when he was attending film school there.)
(As for me, I stayed in a hotel nearby called the "Royal Palace," above, which was a bit of an overstatement. But it was perfectly adequate for our purposes.)
We got Joe settled into his room and immediately sought out the nearest In-N-Out Burger, above. Joe told me to order my burger "animal style," which is from some secret menu that only he is privy to. "Animal style?" I asked him. "What, do they serve the patty raw, or something?"
(One of the first things I noticed about Los Angeles is that the saying, "Nobody walks in L. A." should really be "Nobody jaywalks in L. A." I had never seen so many people obey the traffic signals before! It was really disorienting for a Chicagoan like me. I couldn't help thinking that everybody around me was shaking their heads when I crossed the streets against the lights. But my mantra the whole time in L. A. was, "But I'm not from around here...")
My son was tired after lunch (I guess he's not used to getting up at seven o'clock) so I let him go back to his room and take a nap while I explored Westwood and the UCLA campus.
The focal point of the university is Royce Hall, above, constructed in 1929 in the Italian Romanesque Revival style. UCLA has quite a campus, and the weather was as beautiful when we were out there as the picture would indicate. In fact, both my son and I remarked on how the sky in L. A. seemed to be bluer than in Chicago and the sun even brighter. You couldn't get by without sunglasses. (Good thing I had my Ray-Ban Wayfarers!)
As I was completing my tour of the campus I noticed a bit of a stir not too far from my hotel. A crowd was gathering in front of the Fox Village Theater, above. Completed in 1931, this Westwood landmark is apparently one of the main venues for movie premieres in L. A. I can't remember which one was opening that night (I'm not much of a fan), but there were lots of important-looking people scurrying about in anticipation of the event. (There was even a red carpet in front.) So when my son called I told him to meet me in front of the theater. When he arrived, we stood around among the throng of fans waiting breathlessly for ... who? Who cares? We were in La-La land and just happy to be part of The Scene!
In the evening, we went to dinner with an old friend of my brother-in-law's. He and his wife met us at a place called Plan Check, above, which is in either West L. A., the Sawtelle neighborhood, Little Tokyo West, or Little Osaka, depending on whom you ask. It was a cool place, though, and served American food with a Japanese influence (or something) -- all I know is, it was good. We sat outside, which was very civilized, and Joe and I had the "Smoky fried Jidori chicken," which was delicious. The conversation was scintillating, and, every once in a while I would just look at my son and think to myself, "I can't believe we're in L. A.!"
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