This past weekend was spent in L.A., not for any particular reason, but because I’m “homesick.” The trip didn’t start off all that well. My 8:00 a.m. flight on Virgin America was delayed until 9:15 a.m., though we weren’t actually airborne until about 9:45 a.m. A friend of mine had wanted to pick me up at LAX at 9:30 a.m., drop me at my AirBnB rental in West Hollywood, then go ref some basketball games at 1:00 p.m. Once I knew that the plane wouldn’t be landing by 10:30 a.m., I texted him to go ahead & go ref his games; no need to worry about me. He felt bad, but it wasn’t HIS fault. It was the fault of the airline and/or the usual San Francisco weather. We landed about 10:50 a.m., I confiscated my bag from the baggage claim, caught a shuttle and ended up at my rental at 1:00 p.m.
This was the same rental that I’d been at in December. In other words, it was part of the same house. In December, I’d rented a room with a private entrance attached to the main house. On this occasion, I rented the pool house. The owner, R., remembers me and is very friendly with me. He was still making the bed in the pool house when I arrived and we chatted for maybe an hour. Then I rushed downtown to the Jewelry Mart to pick up a few gifts for my ex’s nieces since we’ll be seeing each other in less than 2 weeks in Bangkok.
Of course, Saturday was also the day of the big Mayweather-Pacquiao fight. I’m a huge boxing fan, so had reserved a seat in the Sports Deck at Tom’s Urban at L.A. Live, next to the Staples Center. They said that patrons must be in their reserved seats by 7:00 p.m. or their reserved seats would be resold. At 5:00 p.m. I was partaking in Happy Hour at Hotel Figueroa. That funky, Moroccan-themed restaurant is now quite popular with the hipsters. When I lived in L.A., it was a few blocks from my office. I’d go there on occasion to eat at an East Indian restaurant that was attached to it, which is no more. I was at the back bar watching hipsters in the pool and the hot tub while the DJ played chill house music. By 6:15 p.m., I was at L.A. Live. Since the Clippers game was about to start, hundreds of people were there. In fact, ESPN was doing a pre-game broadcast from directly in front of Tom’s Urban. I finally wandered in around 6:45 p.m. and was seated promptly. I was in the bar area, but in a somewhat raised area. It didn’t matter that much; there were TVs everywhere. If some giant stood in front of me, I could easily swivel around in my seat to catch the fight on a different screen. I had a good time, despite the outcome. The crowd was definitely Team Pac Man. Mayweather got boos, Justin Bieber got boos and even Jamie Foxx got boos! The guy to my left was an older endocrinologist (I believe that’s what he said) who kept talking my ear off. He also kept tapping the guy in front of me to tell him that he was blocking my view, which he really wasn’t, so I said as much. To content myself, I tucked into a truffle burger and about 3 Molsons. When the fight was over, I hustled on over to the subway to take me back to Hollywood/West Hollywood.
Back at the pool house, I suddenly got an urge to walk to Rock & Roll Ralphs and pick up a six-pack of Heinekens. En route to the store, a couple of guys invited me to drink with them, as they carried a six-pack up to their apartment, but I declined their offer. Of course, once I got those bad boys back to the pool house, I was way too tired to even partake in one of them.
An ex had been texting me earlier in the day, as we planned to get together at some point during my stay. He’d said that Sunday evening worked better for him. Naturally, once I took out my contacts, put on my sarong and got comfortable in bed, he sent a text saying that he was still up and asking if I felt like a nightcap. Since he needed to be at work at 8:00 a.m., I told him that Sunday was still better; otherwise, we wouldn’t have much time. We went back and forth a bit, until he abruptly ended our texting conversation by saying that I should get the parking permit ready as he was on his way. He hasn’t changed a bit! No matter what I say, when he wants to see me, he comes over against all of my protests. When he arrived, he sent a text to say that he was out front and asked if I could go get him, along with the parking permit. So I trudged out in my glasses, sarong and slippers to give him the parking permit. He came in, admired the pool house, drank a Heineken and engaged me in some conversation regarding memories of back when I lived in L.A. He asked if I remembered when his friend G’s car broke down. Do I remember?! Why, most certainly! The AAA tow truck had been called. Once the driver arrived, he informed the guys that he wasn’t supposed to take them anywhere, only to tow the car. Since I was wearing a short, tight dress, they used me as “bait” by presenting me to the driver and stressing how cold I was! “Can she at least sit in the front with you and warm up?” they asked. The driver took pity on me, then, of course, took pity on the guys, too. All 3 of us ended up in the cab with the tow truck driver and he DID drive us back to my ex’s house. We shared some other similar memories and laughed. Those were the days, particularly happy days for me. Anyway, as I’d known, he wasn’t able to stay long. It’s funny how I protested when he wanted to come over, then begged him to stay longer. He promised to see me the following night, saying that there was a possibility that he’d be getting off work early, like maybe noon.
My Sunday morning involved sleeping in a little bit, then getting ready to have brunch with A., a college friend. She was there at noon, then we drove down Sunset Boulevard in search of Rock & Reilly’s. They were purported to have a $24.99 Bottomless Brunch. Once we located them and found parking, we asked about the brunch. The brunch menu included pancakes, peppered bacon, scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, oatmeal, eggs benedict and tater tots. It also included Bloody Marys, mimosas and Bud Light. We could order as many of the items as we wanted, finish them and order more, all for the bargain price of $24.99. We basically ordered everything to eat, except the oatmeal. We both had Bloody Marys as well. The food was a little better than average; no complaints, though. Service was good. It was a glorious day to be sitting out on their patio people watching. When we were done, we walked across the street to Aaahs to browse. There used to be an Aaahs in Westwood and maybe one in Century City as well. I’m surprised that the Sunset one is still there. However, they no longer carry greeting cards. While I immersed myself in Hello Kitty paraphernalia, A. was checking out selfie sticks and having the clerk explain how to use each one. He sold her on one, too! Our next stop was the flea market at Fairfax High. It’s been a million years since I’d been there. They now charge $3 entrance, but the quality of their offerings has improved a bit. I ended up buying a snapback in a blue Hawaiian print that says “L.A.” Yup, another one for my hat-tastic collection. We then went back to the pool house, relaxed and got caught up a bit. I knew that A. will be joining me at the Playboy Jazz Festival on the first day, but didn’t realize she’d bought a ticket for the second day, too. It will be double the fun now!
Once A. left, I admit to taking a little nap. Around 6:00 p.m., I texted the ex to see what his ETA might be. He does lighting for T.V. shows, so he always has long and unpredictable hours. He was hoping for 10:00 p.m. Once I heard that, I went back to Ralphs to pick up some more Heinekens, as well as a few munchies for me. I drank a few Heinies, ate some chicken salad and part of a chicken breast. Soon 10:00 p.m. came and went, as did 11:00 p.m. We’d been continually texting. You could tell that his texts were changing from hopeful to angry about his situation. After midnight, he texted that he wouldn’t be getting off until at least 1:00 a.m. and had to be back at 9:00 a.m. He was definitely not happy. His exact words were that he’d have worked a 17 hour day and was tired, dirty and pissed off. He apologized that he wouldn’t be able to make it. I voiced my extreme disappointment via text and he apologized again. At first, it didn’t bother me, then it actually made me quite sad. I drowned my sorrows with another Heineken and went to bed.
In the morning, I went back to the Jewelry Mart to have some rings sized and to have pendants made of a couple of jasper hearts. While the guy who repairs my jewelry was working on those, I went to Soi 7 for lunch. I had the basil chicken lunch combo again, but it wasn’t as good as the other two times. I wonder if they changed their chef. I also stopped in at Bottega Louie. That place is always very busy, but I had no idea why. I walked in and discovered a case of the most beautiful macarons, as well as many other French-influenced pastries. In addition, there’s a huge dining area with high ceilings. I chose 5 macarons (Earl Grey, coconut, salted caramel, raspberry cheesecake and rose) at the exorbitant price of $2.50 apiece! Although I didn’t eat a single one until I got back to San Francisco, the flavors were the most intense of any macaron I’ve ever tasted. The Earl Grey was my favorite by far! I’ll be dreaming about that one until my next visit, at which point I’ll get at least 3 of them!
By then, lunch is over and my jewelry is fixed, so I’m back in West Hollywood arranging my things before G. picks me up. He’s there around 2:40 p.m. He was the boyfriend of one of my college roommates. Although he’s now a P.E. teacher in L.A., he looks smaller than back in the day when he used to play football. We haven’t seen each other since 1981. We had planned to have lunch (I know, I know, I already had lunch) so that we could get reacquainted. We went to Skynny Café in West Hollywood, where I had a salad and a strawberry smoothie, and he had a veggie burger (?). That strawberry smoothie was the bomb! We compared notes on which people from college we were in touch with and who we were still trying to find. It was good talking to him; there were no uncomfortable silences at all. He dropped me at LAX at 5:00 p.m. My flight was delayed by an hour, of course, but that’s another story.
Now that I’m back from L.A., I’m incredibly homesick AGAIN! Honestly, it’s common for me to go into a week or two of depression after leaving L.A. and coming back to San Francisco. It’s so much worse this time, for some reason. I’m all teary again. I want out of here, but am too scared to make a move. I could find a job in L.A., although I need to take an Excel class first. I only know Excel basics, since my position doesn’t really use it. I would definitely be happy living in L.A. again, even if many of my friends from back then moved away. Rent, however, is another thing. Rents are comparable, though probably slightly lower, to San Francisco. I left a very affordable apartment in L.A. to move to San Francisco. I now live in a very affordable apartment here, thanks to my being the last original tenant on the lease. If I move away from here, I’ll never find a convenient, affordable living situation like this in San Francisco again. Yet… do I really care? Once again, it’s my happiness that suffers so much here. I just want to (and NEED to be) happy again.
