After what seemed like an eternity, we made it into the outskirts of Los Angeles.
If you have not had the pleasure of driving in LA, the rules are simple. 1.) Avoid the highways and 2.) Other drivers are just there to get in the way of where you need to go.
The chaotic city traffic is familiar to me and was a refreshing change from my multiple heart attacks driving along the coastal cliffs.
We diverted off the freeway onto Sunset Boulevard. If anyone has seen the movie of the same name, it is hard to get "I'm ready for my close up, Mr DeMille" out of your head when driving past certain houses on this street.
This route took us through the very exclusive Bel Aire and Beverly Hills, where The Son had to pee so bad we pulled behind one of the celebrity compounds so he could relieve himself on the rubbish bins of the rich and famous.
Our first destination in LA (after our hotel) was Hollywood.
What was out first impression as we neared the Walk of Fame near Hollywood and Vine? What a dump. (I am looking at you to know that Bette Davis movie qoute, also referenced by Elizabeth Taylor in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolfe).
The glamourous Hollywood Walk of Fame & Chinese Theatre are nothing but run down tourist traps, However I did put my feet into Rock Hudson's imprint (they are the same foot size, but Rock had unfortunately small hands).
The Son met a few famous personalities outside of the Chinese Theatre. People in costume stand outside and let you take a photo with them for money. The funny part about this is that the people in costumes look absolutely nothing like the actual character. There was a black Wonder Woman, an 80 year old Marilyn Monroe and a brunette Lucille Ball.
On this day The Son met Halo, The Man drooled over Brad Pitt's footprint and I drooled over Rock Hudson's footprint.
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