Tales of the American Jet-set

Wednesday left for Michigan. On the plane over I sat next to a well-kept, woman in her early 40s who was a VP or Director or Sales and merchandising for Disney. We chatted half the flight and she talked a lot about her friend who owned four race-horses, and all had won recent races at Hollywood Park, youch! Got into Kalamazoo late and couldn't sleep. I kept trying to read Tolstoy hoping his prose would knock me out, but it was to no avail. Sleep finally came at 3am and the 7am bell came even quicker. The job Thursday went a lot smoother than LA, because if there's one thing I do well, it's learn from my mistakes, and through trial and error. It's more painful in the short-term, but the lessons are ones you never forget. Kalamazoo ranks with Tuscaloosa and Shangri La, as places I thought were merely made-up named places. I've been to two of the three, and if it were up to me they would remain with mythical status, but alas the curtain was pulled from the wizard in the booth and I've seen the towns in their mortal glory with their strip malls and chain restaurants

Thursday night I decided to stay in and not waste my time driving aimlessly around Grand Rapids. I ran 2 1/2 miles, swam in the vacant pool and hottub, then drank some mini-bottles of scotch I bought earlier. The Glenlivet and Glenfiddich are nearly identical, both being 12 year, single-malt scotches. Glenfiddich has the cooler bottle aesthetic with the slight triangular shape, and stag head on the label, but I'm going to have to go with The Glenlivet as it's slightly less peaty, which is what I prefer.

Got into town Sunday to catch the second day of a rockabilly music festival at the Knitting Factory on Hollywood Boulevard. My hotel was only a couple blocks away so it proved very convenient. After about three hours I started to get a little tired and hungry and began to think about leaving when I noticed a red-headed woman that looked sort of familiar. Eventually, after recognizing others around her, I approached her and it was, in fact, Rachel from Chicago, who I had met in Vegas in April. It turned out her band was playing that night. I met some other people and we stayed until the end and retired for much needed after-hours nourishment at the Gower Gulch Denny's in Hollywood. Man, that place was quite the scene for a Sunday night, albeit a holiday. Clubbers, rockers, hip-hoppers, wanna-be models and actors all flocked there for Super Grand Slams and Moons Over My Hammy's.

Monday I slept in late, of course. I drove on down to the Los Feliz/Silver lake area for some coffee and a sandwich and gave my friend Dyane a call. She was home and invited me over for a BBQ. Arrived at her place in Pasadena at 6 and it turned out to be just the three of us, including her friend Laurie. It was nice sitting outside eating carne asada and drinking. I hadn't seen her in over a year. She's an art instructor and sent me off with a goodie bag of paint and supplies.

Tuesday was a long day of work, and I didn't leave the site until 7:30pm. I got back and worked out a while then hit the streets. I went over to Powerhouse near the corner of Highland and Hollywood Blvd. It's a complete shithole dive, but a charming one that I'd visited in the past. It's pretty much a locals-only type of place and has only PBR on tap. Apparently, it's been around since 1945. It was pretty dead when I got there, but soon got involved in a game of darts with a couple guys. Several of their friends came in and I met the whole bunch. Nearly all had worked in the bar at one point or another and now work in the recording arts or are aspiring actors.