November 23, 2014 |
Wild Thing came on the radio on the other day. It made me think of LA. Well, John Waters and LA. Actually, that’s a lie. Sophia saying this issue was going to be LA themed made me think of LA. But anyway, Waters wrote a sightseeing guide to LA. A list of his favourite things to do. One was to stand under the flight path at LAX. The other was to listen to Wild Thing, The Troggs’ version, which apparently epitomises everything you are about to see in southern California. My favourite thing to do is take the bus. Preferably drunk. That way you can really blend in with the natives.
The best way to travel to LA is to drive. Or even better, be driven. It helps to be driven if one doesn’t actually drive, then the person who does has no choice but to drive. Drive down the Grapevine. Watch the heat rising off the tarmac. Read American Vogue out loud to your driver, as a gesture of gratitude for all their driving. If there happens to be an article about hypochondriacs, even better. Hopefully you have chosen a driver who is also a mild hypochondriac. You’ll find that they’ll keep finding parallels between themselves and the author. If you keep at this long enough they’ll finally let you smoke in the rental car. Mainly because they themselves want to smoke to calm the fear that they are about to die. Keep a half-full bottle of water in the car to use as an ashtray. Apparently if you dispose of your butts in this the rental won’t smell of smoke. It’s also safer than throwing them out of the window. You don’t want to be responsible for starting any forest fires. Driving also allows you to make a pit stop at In-N-Out and take in a bible verse or two whilst enjoying a delicious cheeseburger. Once you’re in LA, you’ll feel obligated to at least think about eating in a healthier manner. And then you’ll survive solely on Mexican food. So you might as well get the In-N-Out out of your system before crossing city lines. I also feel it important to let a little Jesus into your life via the medium of hamburger before indulging in what will surely be the height of debauchery and hedonism. Jesus cannot save you. But he sure tastes good.
When in LA befriend a budding arms dealer. Obviously, budding arms dealers do not tend to have any distinguishing characteristics. They look like you and me, so the only way to find out what they do, or hope to do, for a living is to enquire. It’s probably best not to ask straight out if they work in the arms business, but if you’re lucky you may hit the jackpot. For example, they may mention that they plan to go into the family business when they finish school. To keep the conversation going it would only be polite to enquire as to what that business may be. Arms dealing. Apparently, their father is an arms dealer. For one of the Koreas. I like to think North Korea, as that sounds just a little sexier and exciting but it’s probably South. Imagine being the person who supplies the murderous little cherub with shockingly bad hair with his favourite toys. Dennis Rodman may claim to be his BFF, but I get the feeling that might not be that mutual. When your new friend jumps onto the pool table, mid someone else’s pool game, in the sort of place where you should probably not be dancing on pool tables, you tell people to approach at their peril. They’re liable to jump on you from a height like a crazed banshee. And no one should want to get on the bad side of an aspiring arms dealer. No one.
If you want to continue the fun, I highly recommend a Ralphs supermarket, preferably visited just after midnight. Buy a pink unicorn costume, one suitable for a child aged seven, and name it Michelle in honour of Michelle Williams. Make sure Michelle is too small to get past your breasts when you try to put her on – her head should stick out awkwardly just below your clavicle, her legs should hang from your shoulder blades. Then climb into a shopping trolley and have someone push you around the aisles at high speed. Make no effort to contain your excitement at the sight of the gallon-sized bottles of vodka in the adult-beverage aisle. Feel sad that alcohol does not come in supersized containers back home. Make a mental note to call your airline in the morning to purchase excess baggage for your return trip.
Drive around with someone under the influence of alcohol. It’s LA. Everybody does it. Should someone honk at you at a stoplight, or make lewd gestures through the window, have your driver jump out of the car, screaming bloody murder, and physically assault the offender’s car. You will be impressed by how quickly the offender speeds off. On that note, everyone should know at least one person who has had a DUI and been threatened with a whole 45 minutes in jail. As Paris would say, that’s hot. And she should know, she was locked up for a whole four days and found Jesus. Nicole Richie managed an even more impressive 82 minutes.
Be amazed when you find out that LA has a subway system. Don’t take it, though. Only comment on it. Take the bus instead. Why? Because walking isn’t done and your ride has a DUI.
Befriend a Scandinavian metal head named Thor by accident. Offer him a drink when drinking on the front steps of your fancy hotel, not chosen solely for the fact that it has “celebrity” in the name. Have him accidently stalk you to Palms Thai, where you are going for dinner. Do not realise that he has stalked you, randomly, abandoning his friends, until you are sitting at your table at Palms Thai, ordering your starters. Express surprise. And since we’re on the subject of Palms Thai, make a reservation. Enjoy the fine food on offer and the vocal stylings of Kavee Thongpreecha, the Thai Elvis, as he serenades you while you eat. Remember that, in LA, portions are large. If you order a main for dinner it will last you for next day’s breakfast and lunch. A starter will suffice as a main. If you’re feeling particularly fancy, have a side as a starter and a starter as a main. Dessert can be shared between the whole table and there will probably still be some left over.
Take a cab. Preferably one where the inside of the door falls into the street when you open it. Be told that you have to hold on to it tightly for the entire journey as it does not close properly. Encourage the cab driver to call you easy and your friend frigid. Then encourage your friend to protest the accusations. They are not frigid. You are frigid. They are in fact easy. Very easy. Have the door fall into the street again when you get out of the cab outside your hotel.
Buy a fur in a summer fur sale. It’s the best time to get one. The prices are knocked right down. You can pick up some fabulous matted carpet in leopard for a steal. Then make a point of wearing it everywhere. Despite the heat.
Do not go to the Getty hung over. The whole thing is made of the whitest light-reflecting stone. The experience is both beautiful and hugely painful. S&M for tourists. Unless you’re into that kind of thing.
Which brings us to S&M. Go to an S&M club. Enjoy the porn projected on to the walls. Take in the acts on stage, including the live spanking of audience members in exchange for champagne. Do not volunteer to be spanked in exchange for champagne. Try to remember the name of the night so you can recommend it to people. Forget and then Google. Find out that the evening in question is called Miss Kitty’s Parlour Presents and is held at the Dragonfly. Discover that, sadly, it is no more. Which sucks. For you.
By Natalie Dembinska
