I tell em that I want to hit up the Rainbow in West Hollywood, because, like a star struck tourist,I want to see if God aka Lemmy, will be at his usual spot at the bar playing his pokie machine.
We bowl in there and grab a spot outside and settle in with some beers, I hit up the jukebox, which has an incredible amount of everything in it, so choosing what to play wasn't going to be easy. I settle on some Alice in Chains, Pantera, and Queen which seemed to go over pretty well, no complaints from the regulars and visitors alike.
The girl behind the bar is an absolute stunner, I would go there just to see her, forget Lemmy, she is gorgeous, I hope she is there when I go back.
"Is that him" says my old man, who has NO idea who Lemmy is, but sure as shit, there he was. No one batted an eyelid, friendly guy, going about his business. I was fucking loving it. Night 1 in LA and I've already spoken to Mark Margolis and before my very eyes, a legend.. Lemmy. This trip rocks.
We move inside and beers are consumed exceedingly quickly. I'm not sure how it happened, but we start talking to two girls, Alyssa and... shit I forget her name, anyway, they're locals, as in they live in Hollywood, and they seem really nice. We joke and drink and chat and drink.. boy do we drink.
The old man decides he's had enough and he'll leave Aaron and I to our own devices. So we make sure he gets into a cab, and he knows where he is going.. he seems happy enough to call it a day, to be fair, we'd now been up for close to 48 hours.
Aaron and I kick on with the girls.. I'll leave this part empty.. all you need to know is, we wished them a goodnight and went our separate ways.
Knackers and I decided to go exploring some more, and I can't tell you the name of the bar we went to, all I can tell you is, the HUGE margaritas cost $16 each, when I say huge, I mean they were fucking huge. Novelty factor huge. (SEE PIC BELOW) I don't even like Margaritas that much. We sat down at a small bar and were approached by a young couple, clearly visitors from out of town and who were amazed that we would buy such ridiculous drinks. I don't know their names, but I know that we're on their facebook somewhere.
We bail out of big arse margaritaville and walk up and down Hollywood Blvd looking at the stars on the footpath, wondering who half of them were.. Who the fuck is Neil Hamilton? Georges brother? Ya know, the bloke that has skin like a suitcase and played Zorro once. Anyway, back to the blvd.
Stumbling along we see 4 low riders parked, stereos blaring. The Bonnet was up on one them, so I stick my head under hoping to see some high performance gear, but I'm met with a stock standard looking old V8 that won't start.
"What's wrong with it mate?" I ask.. "Flat Battery my man, gotta get a jump, you got a car?" He says, clearly no picking up on my accent and that fact that I wouldn't have a car, mainly coz I was pissed to the eyeballs.
Ya know when you wake up a mate who's in a deep sleep and they freak out look around bewildered at what's happening? That's what this kid looked like.. ha ha, it was bloody unreal.
I'd like to tell you after this we got a cab back to the hotel, but we didn't, we got a slice of pizza, something we didn't remember until the next day, but what transpired after that slice.. .well... there may have been some 'standing on the seat of the convertible as we drove down the freeway'.. there 'may have'.
To be continued.