Wednesday, 7 November 2012

Dad and Daves US Adventure, Part 5

Where was I? Oh yeah, preparing for another assault on West Hollywood. Once we've all washed the sand and freak of us, I suggest we head back to the Rainbow, use it as a launching place to head out, Dad and Aaron agreed, we didn't know how it would be on a Sunday night, but we liked the music and the vibe of the joint, so we just figured, go with what you know before making another decision.
We're half charged at this stage, the cabbie takes us a different way to West Hollywood which freaks us out, coz lets be honest, he could have been driving us via Mexico and we wouldn't know where we are. Our bearings were completely shot.
There's nothing to worry about, old mate was just taking us straight down Coldwater Canyon Drive. From where we were staying in Studio city, it's up, and over the hill that brings you straight into Beverley Hills. The houses there are BULLSHIT big. I didn't see Brenda or Steve Sanders. I think we passed the Peach Pit though.
Soon enough we were back at the Rainbow, crowd was much the same outside, so we pulled up to a table and got a round of drinks.

I should mention at this point we'd been in the states a little over 36 hours, and one thing you quickly discover over there is, Aussies are everywhere. Make no mistake, you'll hear 'thanks mate' and your head will swivel to see where that familiar slice of home is coming from. We'd heard it on Santa Monica Pier, the day before, in the little souvenir shop at the end. In fact I'm pretty sure I heard it in the car rental place as soon as we landed.

So we're enjoying some beers, Aaron has gone straight for a greyhound, a vodka grapefruit basically, taste pretty good, a nice alternative when you're beered out and don't want bourbon. Soon this guy flounces over, it doesn't take a genius to figure out which way he swings, he's heard the accent and is up for a chat, he tells us he used to be a cop in New York, but has since made the move out west to enjoy his lifestyle. It was also fairly obvious at this point that he had a bloodstream full of party.
He wanders off, and because dad and I were facing him, we didn't noticed Aaron had slipped away to talk to some girls at the bar. Fast mover. We let him be and watch from afar, don't wanna cramp his style.

He comes back and starts telling us they're from Germany and are here with their fellas but that they were 'Up for it, even the guys seemed keen'. Yeah, not sure about that one.

Here's another thing about California that, well, didn't surprise me, but I guess I wasn't prepared for. The use of medical marijuana. You've all seen the TV shows I'm sure. Basically there are 'doctors' that will hook you up with a medical marijuana card for a minimal fee, and boy, don't the locals take advantage of that.

Aaron notices a couple of blokes up the back, outside of the drinking area at the Rainbow who were enjoying and walked over to see what the deal was. Friendly bunch it turns out, he's the chef and has knocked off for the night.

At the bar were a bunch of old rockers, talking about times gone by, clearly blokes in their late 40's who maybe once had a band that performed on the strip, now probably roadies enjoying themselves, dressed as you would expect, some with bleached hair still teased, a brilliant cliché that you hope to see in Hollywood.
They're all bikers too, as we saw a gaggle of bikes out the front, must be theirs.
We're soaking up the atmosphere when I think I hear that Aussie accent amongst said bikers.. "nah, can't be" I say to dad.

Meanwhile, Aaron is talking to locals, enjoying the local flavour, when the chef comes out with food for his mates. He offers us some. It's mashed potato. Hang on, let me try that again. It wasn't just mashed potato. It was MASHED POTATO! I don't know what he put in it, but it was fucking awesome. Easily the best I've ever tasted. That might seem like a weird thing to read, but trust me, old mate chef knows what he's doing.

Soon after the voice which I thought was an Aussie slides up to us and asks if we are Aussie, dammit, he's from Sydney and has been in South America with his girlfriend, and what a piece she is. This guys is batting WAAYYY out of his league, lucky fuck. We make small talk and they piss off back to the bar.

Then one of the bikies hits us up for a light, which we don't have, we start chatting and he's a bit pissed, so he's heading off home. We follow him out to have a look at his bike. What happened next surprised us all.
Here's a guy, full old school rock star clothes, bog leather jacket, studs, patches, arm bands, you know the full 1982 Judas Preist look.
He walks out to the mess of bikes in the parking lot, throws a helmet on his head, and slings his leg over...
a CT90 Honda.
A postie bike.
An orange 1986 Honda postie bike. With a bright orange flag like you'd see on a push bike in the 80's
Fuck me. That's some funny shit right there. We all held back laughter, Aaron had the good grace to compliment on his ride, so we followed suit. "I had one of these when I was a kid" says Aaron, "I was fuckin awesome". The guys appreciates the compliment and they wax lyrical about the benefits of owning such a gargantuan hog.

He buzzes off and we head back inside, only to be met by the bouncer.. "time to go guys, finish up and make your way out please"
What the fuck?
We're just getting started, what time is it? "Bar shuts at 2 guys".
The time zone difference, and us having such a good time, has resulted is us getting pretty pissed but not tired at all, and ruined out chances of heading out.. how the hell did this happen?

When we walk out the front, something weird happens.. we just decide to start walking down the hill. We don't know where we are really, we don't know where we're going, but something instinctual makes us walk towards to thr Roxy, right next door. It's open, but closing. Fuck, we'll head to the Viper Room, a little further down and across the street.
There's a bunch of guys out the front, good sign, one of them opens the door and walks in, bouncer at the front says, sorry guys we're about to close.. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? Everything in Hollywood shuts at 2am?

Making the most of where I am, I get Aaron to snap off a couple of shots of dad kicking into me as I lay lifeless out the front of Viper. A tip of the hat to River and Jason Donovan.

We're pissed, looking for a good time, we know we have to be up early tomorrow, but we don't wanna go home.
We decide we need eats, and what better to eat at this time of night than a burger?
"there's a Mel's diner down the road a couple of blocks" Say Aaron consulting his Yelp app, so we start to walk.. and walk..

The streets are empty, so we wander all over the joint, and duck down a side street for a leak. Not realizing that there's a couple sitting on their front porch, and they see everything. I apologise and continue on our way.

Now, if you have never been to LA, let me tell you, go to Mels Diner. (Sunset Blvd). Holy snapping frog shit batman, that's some good eats, oh, and get a thick shake, A-FUCKIN-MAZING.

I ask a cabbie sitting out the front in his Prius if he's working, he says yes, I think he's Russian.
"Do you mind if I smoke?" he asks (yes he's Russian) "We don't care mate, we just wanna get home"
The cab ride that ensued was an absolute ripper, Aaron is talking to the cabbie, he says he's been doing this 17 years around LA, although his thick accent would suggest different, the fact that at one stage we hit 90 miles per hour (144kph) up Sunset Blvd, in a fuckin Prius, was both a highlight and a scary moment.

I know we made it home ok, but I don't really remember the walk to the room, maybe I'd had a few more drinks than I thought? Ah well, tomorrow we have to be up early to check out and make our way to Vegas. Fuck yeah..

No comments:

Post a Comment