Escape to L.A. - the first 36 hours.
So my quasi-spontaneous plans have finally reached fruition: I have upped and out of the GTA for a 10 day visit how the other side lives in Los Angeles. And by other side, I mean Kordo. And having a smooth-talking, industry cat as a host in a city hopelessly addicted to catering to every social whim bourne out of celebrity culture, definitely begs the promise of mayhem, despite the baby baller budget limitations and a lack of resmeblance to any current, working celebrity (if anybody wants to call Cuban Linx a celebrity, you'd be still telling lies to me...).
I will say the trip down was a remarkably smooth one, considering the nature of border crossing in general. My flight was out of Buffalo so I grabbed a room at a swarmy airport hotel so I would have somewhere to leave my car for the extended period (yes, they do that). So early Saturday morning I crossed into the States via Lewiston and had to deal with a young African-American immigration officer (where if she was standing about 80 feet to the left she just woulda been a black person in Canada) whose weave looked like it had stayed out too late. It couldn't have been a better look: for a brief moment in time, beige was unstoppable. I could of been an explosives expert with a penchant for transporting exotic fruits and animals - honey was not stressing me. I really feel that if black women were in charge of more things, my standard of life would be considerable higher. Ladies, work on that.
So after a very brief stay at a Best Western not run by Best Western, but in fact, a shadow faction only known to the public as the 'Shavani Group', I managed to get the women at the desk to stop asking me if I was rolling solo (I was waiting for her to ask me if I needed her to arrange for some 'company' but the offer never came...I can only imagine the Shavani Group rolls deep in the pimp game) and shuttled to the airport. The ultra grimey Buffalo airport. Filled to the brim with ugly people. I know it was very early, but it had to be the least attractive group of people I've ever been around in my life. And due to the fact that the airport 'shuts down' for a period in the morning, it quickly turns into the most hectic environment possible short of a war zone, with everyone being cued into these long, barely organized lines to get through security. This is what I imagined the Partition of India was like, if it was recreated with mostly white folks with no religous animosity towards each other. And just to top it off, an anonymous siren started wailing, with absolutely no explanation. In a weird way, it actually perked things up: distracted you from all the ugly people.
Security itself was like an annoying women; high maintenance with a stress on a superficial thoroughness. Shoes is a big thing now; apparently the threat of footware looms omninously for airport security. The Buffalo airport in particular has a new feature for its security detail - a futuristic walk-through metal detector made by GE that shoots several streams of undetermined gas at the person going through. Somebody should really check if Dick Cheney is on the board at GE, because clearly people are getting paid. There was a very random selction process run by Will I Am's twin over who would get blasted by the gas for the sake of keeping everyone safe, but it seemed to involve finding the oldest possible people wearing the loosest clothing. And every single time it's like they never saw it coming...
So the oasis that was the post-security pre-boarding area in the Buffalo airport was literally like a desirable VIP area in a dank club - everything was better on the inside. There was a stop over at Chicago, which is a relatively pleasant, expansive airport in itself, but the mood was significantly darkened by the constant reminder every 5 minutes over the PA of the terror alert status (for the record, it's at Orange. Is anybody still wondering if Bush won?). I managed to sleep through most of the flight to L.A. And that's that. Kordo and the boy Devo picked me up in a unripe Cherry red convertible Saab 900 with a tapedeck and I was quickly transported by to the early 90s. And then, shortly after, K's crib. Here are the first quick impressions of the city:
1. You absolutely must drive in L.A.
L.A. is a driver's city, laid out in segments over a large space. And maybe it's just because I was rolling in a convertible, but it feels as if the prospect for inter-car socializing is crazy tangible. At a longer stop light, it feels like a party could literally break out. Conversation is a norm. You need a car in L.A.
2. There are some fly ass rides out here.
It gets to the point where noticing BMWs or Porshes becomes moot. High end cars here are painfully common place.
3. Kordo lives deep in the hood. The batty-hood.
Kordo reps West Hollywood. His crib is in a complex that could actually be Melrose Place's gay lost twin. The main strip here makes Church street look watered down in its gayness - even the convenience stores are manned by teh ghey. Strangely, no dykes (maybe they just come out at night). But the area immediately around his spot couldn't be gayer. Let's put it this way: maybe 5 blocks away is a Fat Burger and a couple of girls holla'd at us from the sunroof of their strecth limo (The one girl actually said 'Hey sexys!' which was extremely considerate in her inclusiveness considering there were 3 of us. Deep down, I know Kordo still thinks she was talking about him repeatedly...). Back in the 'hood', 4 guys holla'd at us (!!!) wearing matching sunglasses (!) from a Navigator. There is so much gay here sometimes you can't tell at first - when I heard these dudes, I immediately turned to see which woman they were yelling at. Even on sight, it was only the 'gun clicking' motioning that clued me in. (and for the record, Kordo did think they were primarily yelling at him, if not exclusively).
4. The people, in general, are not ugly out here.
Truly from an average person perspective, this is the anti-Buffalo airport. And women make an event out here - rolling with mens can be a tougher look at times.
5. Everyone here wants to be in the 'industry'.
It may seem tired as so many people in L.A. are in the aspiring category, but at the end of the day, there's always at least a bare minimum acknowledgement to those who are trying to make it happen, successful or not. It's clearly a hustle and, like any hustle, a good front does wonders...it can be almost shocking witnessing the contrved nature of socializing out here but it doesn't make it any less real (even if the front is not).
6. With the above being said, there really are people out here who drive through Beverly Hills in their M5's reading scripts out loud to the bluetooth.
Really.
7. Beach dogs are the most well behaved domestic animal known to man.
And why shouldn't they be. They are the envy of all other dogs. Hell, I would feel lucky to come back in another life as an L.A. beach dog. The following is true for every breed except those stupid little pugs (and I didn't even get the worst of that little killer...).
So the first night has come and gone and we hit the local 'spot' (a 5 minute walk in a "straighter" direction from the crib) and I'll save the details for a recap of the nights out here. I'll leave it at there was much drinking, some pastel coloured cigerettes were involved, bottle service with a DJ scratching wildly on some CD-driven tables and some Mexican-American gull who let me briefly fall alseep in her lap. Ah, to rely on the kindness of strangers...
I'll throw out another update when some thangs get around to happening. It's been pretty nice so far and I'll do my best to make some stories happen. No real celebrity sightings yet (although Devo and Kordo saw Lloyd from Entourage eating dinner. And yes, Kordo swears Lloyd made eyes at him...) but that's whatever anyways. Although Kordo has informed me he got an invite via a second party to professional socialite and black dick admirer Kim Kardishian's private bash next weekend - the catch being he can't bring anymore men as they are trying to strictly regulate the number of balls at the event. I dunno how this will play out but I may have to introduce some evidence that would make me a more suitable guest for such an affair ('Yeah, he looks beige, but other parts of him are MUCH darker...so he's good then?").
Quick shout out to Martin for shearing me before I left (mucho gracias) and Laurie for the crazy story of his baptism into the world of porn. Crazy. Oh, Ateet and Don: go get em Wednesday.
Out from the Left Coast till the next story. Or as they say over here, 'episode'.
I will say the trip down was a remarkably smooth one, considering the nature of border crossing in general. My flight was out of Buffalo so I grabbed a room at a swarmy airport hotel so I would have somewhere to leave my car for the extended period (yes, they do that). So early Saturday morning I crossed into the States via Lewiston and had to deal with a young African-American immigration officer (where if she was standing about 80 feet to the left she just woulda been a black person in Canada) whose weave looked like it had stayed out too late. It couldn't have been a better look: for a brief moment in time, beige was unstoppable. I could of been an explosives expert with a penchant for transporting exotic fruits and animals - honey was not stressing me. I really feel that if black women were in charge of more things, my standard of life would be considerable higher. Ladies, work on that.
So after a very brief stay at a Best Western not run by Best Western, but in fact, a shadow faction only known to the public as the 'Shavani Group', I managed to get the women at the desk to stop asking me if I was rolling solo (I was waiting for her to ask me if I needed her to arrange for some 'company' but the offer never came...I can only imagine the Shavani Group rolls deep in the pimp game) and shuttled to the airport. The ultra grimey Buffalo airport. Filled to the brim with ugly people. I know it was very early, but it had to be the least attractive group of people I've ever been around in my life. And due to the fact that the airport 'shuts down' for a period in the morning, it quickly turns into the most hectic environment possible short of a war zone, with everyone being cued into these long, barely organized lines to get through security. This is what I imagined the Partition of India was like, if it was recreated with mostly white folks with no religous animosity towards each other. And just to top it off, an anonymous siren started wailing, with absolutely no explanation. In a weird way, it actually perked things up: distracted you from all the ugly people.
Security itself was like an annoying women; high maintenance with a stress on a superficial thoroughness. Shoes is a big thing now; apparently the threat of footware looms omninously for airport security. The Buffalo airport in particular has a new feature for its security detail - a futuristic walk-through metal detector made by GE that shoots several streams of undetermined gas at the person going through. Somebody should really check if Dick Cheney is on the board at GE, because clearly people are getting paid. There was a very random selction process run by Will I Am's twin over who would get blasted by the gas for the sake of keeping everyone safe, but it seemed to involve finding the oldest possible people wearing the loosest clothing. And every single time it's like they never saw it coming...
So the oasis that was the post-security pre-boarding area in the Buffalo airport was literally like a desirable VIP area in a dank club - everything was better on the inside. There was a stop over at Chicago, which is a relatively pleasant, expansive airport in itself, but the mood was significantly darkened by the constant reminder every 5 minutes over the PA of the terror alert status (for the record, it's at Orange. Is anybody still wondering if Bush won?). I managed to sleep through most of the flight to L.A. And that's that. Kordo and the boy Devo picked me up in a unripe Cherry red convertible Saab 900 with a tapedeck and I was quickly transported by to the early 90s. And then, shortly after, K's crib. Here are the first quick impressions of the city:
1. You absolutely must drive in L.A.
L.A. is a driver's city, laid out in segments over a large space. And maybe it's just because I was rolling in a convertible, but it feels as if the prospect for inter-car socializing is crazy tangible. At a longer stop light, it feels like a party could literally break out. Conversation is a norm. You need a car in L.A.
2. There are some fly ass rides out here.
It gets to the point where noticing BMWs or Porshes becomes moot. High end cars here are painfully common place.
3. Kordo lives deep in the hood. The batty-hood.
Kordo reps West Hollywood. His crib is in a complex that could actually be Melrose Place's gay lost twin. The main strip here makes Church street look watered down in its gayness - even the convenience stores are manned by teh ghey. Strangely, no dykes (maybe they just come out at night). But the area immediately around his spot couldn't be gayer. Let's put it this way: maybe 5 blocks away is a Fat Burger and a couple of girls holla'd at us from the sunroof of their strecth limo (The one girl actually said 'Hey sexys!' which was extremely considerate in her inclusiveness considering there were 3 of us. Deep down, I know Kordo still thinks she was talking about him repeatedly...). Back in the 'hood', 4 guys holla'd at us (!!!) wearing matching sunglasses (!) from a Navigator. There is so much gay here sometimes you can't tell at first - when I heard these dudes, I immediately turned to see which woman they were yelling at. Even on sight, it was only the 'gun clicking' motioning that clued me in. (and for the record, Kordo did think they were primarily yelling at him, if not exclusively).
4. The people, in general, are not ugly out here.
Truly from an average person perspective, this is the anti-Buffalo airport. And women make an event out here - rolling with mens can be a tougher look at times.
5. Everyone here wants to be in the 'industry'.
It may seem tired as so many people in L.A. are in the aspiring category, but at the end of the day, there's always at least a bare minimum acknowledgement to those who are trying to make it happen, successful or not. It's clearly a hustle and, like any hustle, a good front does wonders...it can be almost shocking witnessing the contrved nature of socializing out here but it doesn't make it any less real (even if the front is not).
6. With the above being said, there really are people out here who drive through Beverly Hills in their M5's reading scripts out loud to the bluetooth.
Really.
7. Beach dogs are the most well behaved domestic animal known to man.
And why shouldn't they be. They are the envy of all other dogs. Hell, I would feel lucky to come back in another life as an L.A. beach dog. The following is true for every breed except those stupid little pugs (and I didn't even get the worst of that little killer...).
So the first night has come and gone and we hit the local 'spot' (a 5 minute walk in a "straighter" direction from the crib) and I'll save the details for a recap of the nights out here. I'll leave it at there was much drinking, some pastel coloured cigerettes were involved, bottle service with a DJ scratching wildly on some CD-driven tables and some Mexican-American gull who let me briefly fall alseep in her lap. Ah, to rely on the kindness of strangers...
I'll throw out another update when some thangs get around to happening. It's been pretty nice so far and I'll do my best to make some stories happen. No real celebrity sightings yet (although Devo and Kordo saw Lloyd from Entourage eating dinner. And yes, Kordo swears Lloyd made eyes at him...) but that's whatever anyways. Although Kordo has informed me he got an invite via a second party to professional socialite and black dick admirer Kim Kardishian's private bash next weekend - the catch being he can't bring anymore men as they are trying to strictly regulate the number of balls at the event. I dunno how this will play out but I may have to introduce some evidence that would make me a more suitable guest for such an affair ('Yeah, he looks beige, but other parts of him are MUCH darker...so he's good then?").
Quick shout out to Martin for shearing me before I left (mucho gracias) and Laurie for the crazy story of his baptism into the world of porn. Crazy. Oh, Ateet and Don: go get em Wednesday.
Out from the Left Coast till the next story. Or as they say over here, 'episode'.
posted by Roger Sign at 3:38 PM
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