Tuesday in L. A. was a day...

...reserved strictly for sightseeing. I picked up Joe at around noon and we headed east on Wilshire Boulevard in search of the legendary Pink's, on Melrose and La Brea in Hollywood. It was a beautiful day but the line was half-way down the street. I balked a little, at first, but my son said, "You've been talking about this place since we left Glenview -- we're going!" And I'm glad we did. The line moved along nicely and I ordered a nine-inch stretch chili dog with fries and a root beer. They had a very pleasant outdoor seating area in the back where we ate and talked to my wife on the phone.

After Pink's it was off to the Hollywood Hills where we had our picture taken in front of the famous sign. (See it way up there at the top?) The area is really cool (is there anywhere in L. A. that isn't?) but we couldn't let grass grow under our feet. Next it was Rodeo Drive (a nightmare for congenital cheapskates like me but a thrill for my son) and a long, long winding drive down Sunset Boulevard, through Pacific Palisades and eventually to the ocean. I told my son, "Too bad you didn't dip your toe in the Atlantic when you were out there last week; you could have dipped another one in the Pacific right now."

We finally reached our destination, the Santa Monica Pier, around six-ish, just in time for dinner. (I know what you're thinking: isn't it always time for a meal with you guys?) But we were still full from those nine-inch hot dogs so we took a walk along the beach. We covered a lot of ground, both literally and figuratively, and got as far as Marina del Rey before we turned around (about a six-mile hike, altogether).

Between Santa Monica and Marina del Rey is the famous Venice Beach, above. If Las Vegas is "Disneyland for adults," then Venice has to be "Disneyland for hippies," and hippie-wannabes like me. (I was only six years old in 1965 when Jim Morrison met Ray Manzarek on the beach in Venice, the seminal moment in the creation of the Doors.) And, like Vegas, if you've never been, you just gottagottagotta see it -- at least once. It's that unique.

When we got to the car, we still weren't hungry so we just drove back and crashed for the night. We were still on Mountain time, or Midwestern time, or (in Joe's case) East Coast time, so we were both a little discombobulated (and, yes, that's a real word; I looked it up).

Tomorrow would be my last day in L. A.