RED. The colour I would use to describe the skin on my neck and my shoulders by 8pm.
WHITE. The colour I would use to describe the skin that had been covered by the white vest I wore during the day.
Why, oh why do I do this to myself. I was fully aware that I would be in the sun as I made my way to Rogers Beach on Sunday and yet I must have decided that suncream would not be necessary. I blame it on the pancake, fruit, bacon and egg dish that I have become hooked on, because my mind was clearly on the food! However today the chef must have been in a very excitable mood because I was given two plates of food instead of the usual single plate. On the one plate I had the two pancakes with a pile of strawberries and banana slices, and on the other was a large portion of scrambled egg and crispy bacon. I suspect they were laying bets in the kitchen as to whether the skinny Brit could handle the over-generous portion. I win!
Relaxing on the lively Rogers Beach I watched my fellow bathers as they threw themselves into the big, rolling Pacific waves. It looked like fun, and I had a large brunch to work off. Maintaining my composure I strolled down the small sand bank to the water and strutted straight into the water, attempting to look as though I had not noticed the sudden drop in temperature that would normally have one gasping out loud and hugging their chest! But I was pleasantly surprised to find that the water was quite warm, unlike the chilly currents in San Francisco. My composure was only lost when I stumbled into a sudden dip in the sand but I soon made up for it with a manly dive into the first big wave!
It was great fun to be a kid again and actually enjoy being in the waves. I had a great time throwing myself in and fighting with them. Who cares about getting sand in your shorts anyway? Surely its a sign of having a good time? Although I suspect that it was my enthusiatic tustle in the waves that is responsible for the overcooked shoulders and neck that I was sporting in the evening. You would have been forgiven for thinking at a glance that I was still wearing the white vest when I took it off!
Wearing a less revealing t-shirt I headed West along Melrose Avenue heading for The Abbey again. I had just moved around the corner into a new hostel called Orbit. The difference was incredible. I had sacrificed my single room and was now in a six berth dorm with a down-to-Earth actor, Jason, from Alhabama (great accent!) and four vast, friendly, intimidating, prostitute loving New Zealanders. The latter looked incredibly well built with muscle while having huge bellies and bulging pectoral breasts. I hope that those bunks are strong! The room was fine, but the recreational spaces were great, with patios furnished with Eames plastic chairs and glitter balls, a bright, youthful lounge space and a good kitchen. It just felt like someone actually cared about us travellers!
Waiting for my mojito to be bashed and shaken I heard an English voice at the bar. A delicate, blond girl called Lucy. An aspiring actor. Very cheeky looking with a neat little grin that crept up one side of her face. I liked the look of her, so we then proceeded to have fun observing the crowd around us. She had her eyes on the barman and was quite content to flirt with him and threaten to scamp off behind the bar to spank him. Well, her cheesecake was free after that!
Suddenly I was tapped on the shoulder as a man said "Hello Edward". Clearly I must have looked alittle confused as he backed it up with "We met in New York". It all fell into place... incredibly I had met Stephen (a piano competition organizer from Toronto) at a cocktail party at the Gansevoort Hotel in New York a few weeks earlier! Despite the complete coincidence it seemed strangely unsurprising and we carried on as if we had planned to meet in The Abbey all along. By the time another cocktail had been downed we were ready to party and agreed that we would be the ones to find one. In LA this can prove to be difficult as the licencing law forbids the sale of alcohol after 2pm. The secret is an invite to a private party or an afterparty. So the new game was to find a friend who could take us to the next level! By the end of the night we found ourselves stumbling down a very empty 'Walk of Fame', gawping at the starry sidewalk. A stop off at Privilege nightclub had preceeded this, and it was there that we were told to head to Spider in Hollywood. We found the entrance but there was no sign of life. The party trail had come to an end. It was certainly over when Stephen shrieked with excitement at seeing the 'Pointer Sisters' star and slipped into the splits at the same time! That could have been painful....
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