Ah, Los Angeles 3

Los Angeles is the home of beautiful people. As you travel west from where we are, really from West Hollywood on to the beaches, you realize that you’re in a zone of beauty both real and manufactured. Actors waiting for the big break. When you see them working in stores and restaurants, you ask yourself, if they can’t make it, who can?

You go to a restaurant. An Italian Restaurant. You use valet parking because you won’t find a place on your own anywhere near enough to not require hiking boots. The hostess, a beauty, seats you with a friendly, dazzling smile. Your waiter comes out. This guy is amazing. From his perfectly coiffed hair to his perfectly capped teeth to his perfectly tanned and toned body to his Gucci shoes, the man is jaw dropping gorgeous.

His voice is husky and mellifluous. It makes you want to ask him questions just to hear it again like, “what’s spaghetti?” and “If it doesn’t break too many health code violations would you mind taking off your cloths? I’ve just got to see this.” The waitress at the next table must be his twin because she is a goddess if there ever was one. You want to ask her the same question.

The bussers and food runners are obviously character actors: interesting faces and quirky voices and you want to ask them questions like, “would you send the waiter and waitress back out, please?” The bill comes and you’re so filled with the splendor of the human form that you give the waiter a $50 tip on top of a $50 check.

You retrieve your car from valet which costs $7.50 and give the guy a $20 tip because he’s beautiful too. You drive away with a silly grin on your face which fades as you realize you’ve just spent $127.50 on two plates of spaghetti.

You go to the movie ecstatic that you made it on time. You find a parking place, another reason to rejoice. In the theater you buy your tickets and are assigned seats. Don’t be late because they close the doors and don’t let you in once the show starts. You buy popcorn with real butter and Belgian chocolates. Every employee you ask will have a cogent and pithy review of what you’re about to watch. You understand where all the graduates of those expensive film schools got to. You are escorted to your seats. The lights dim, the show starts. You don’t have to admonish people about their cell phones. People take film seriously here. The audience is attentive and appreciative.

In the middle of the movie you wonder, “People get paid to make this tripe?” At the end of the show, people applaud. if they don’t, it’s a stinker. They stay to watch the credits and applaud, even in bad movies, for the person or department they think did a good job. When catering or gaffers get applause, you know the family of those people are in the audience.

As you file out, you listen to the insightful and well reasoned comments on the film and you think that there is intelligent life on this planet after all.

You stop for a smoothie served to you by a person who looks like Halle Berry. You figure if it did that for her… All in all, you leave feeling good about humanity and that lasts until you exit the parking lot and discover that every conceivable route home is blocked by traffic.

Love and light always


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