Where the Stars Are

Day 5

Yesterday morning we picked up our rental car and headed onward to L.A. Our hosts had warned us the drive would probably take 8 hours, rather than the 6 I had been expecting, so we decided to leave San Fran without seeing the painted ladies or a close up of the Golden Gate bridge.

I was a little pouty about it, but then Darrell bopped me on the head and said "You need a V8. Think of all the things we did see, not what we didn't see." Of course, he was right, so I turned my frown upside down, we bid farewell to our little home, and off we went.

After driving around in circles for 10 minute trying to figure out how to get to the Bay Bridge, we sorted it out and proceeded to have a fairly uneventful drive. Within an hour, the air was warm and dry - now that's more like it! We passed farm upon farm of oranges, peaches, plums, cotton, even pistachios. A pistachio lover myself, I hadn't really thought before about where they are before they arrive in my Bulk Barn bin. Now I know!

We surfed radio stations, talked about the weird characteristics of some people we know (I'll leave you wondering whether we talked about you), wondered what you all say about us, and on a completely separate matter, concluded that we probably aren't the get married on a Caribbean beach kind. Don't have a heart attack, we aren't coming home engaged, but I thought it was a conversation worth mentioning, since I know some of you think we're like anti-marriage or something.

The drive got a little more scenic as we got closer to L.A., we weaved in and around plenty of mountains and marvelled at the possibility of a dust tornado taking shape at any moment.

We exited the highway and navigated some extremely windy roads through the Hollywood hills, arriving at our Best Western on the Sunset Strip no problem. Our room is spacious, the courtyard pool charming, and the view interesting.

We dined on the patio of a hot spot right across the street from us, where we shared a giant meal and I enjoyed an even more giant drink. Before our meal even arrived, our server provided two Apple Jack shots, on the house. Apparently, they want you to get boozed. And again, they were Americanized and bigger than any shot we've ever had.

We capped off the night by me promptly falling asleep in the big cozy hotel bed - man, do I ever love a big cozy hotel bed - and Darrell standing in the window, watching as one Ferrarri, Aston Martin, Porsche, or Lamborgini after another drove by.