There were three main components that made my day on Saturday. And each one made me very happy indeed....
CASH! The relief that I felt was huge when my father confirmed that he had been able to transfer some of my cash directly to Western Union. I was now able to collect the money from the Western Union desk of my choice. The service is expensive but it saved me from being penniless while I wait for my new bank card to arrive. Thank you to Don for being so helpful in helping me to find a solution, and many thanks to dad for ensuring that the transfer was swift. Phew!
CYCLE! Having picked up my dollars Don, Mark and I set off for Santa Monica beach. The boys put on their rollerblades and I hired a tall, mountain bike with a remarkably uncomfortable saddle. Off we set in true LA style on the concrete path that runs all the way down the beach. The sun was not so strong but glorious all the same and in an attempt to bake the white strap lines off my shoulders I removed my shirt. Crazy I know! The path has two lanes as would a road and just like the LA roads it gets congested with excercise fiends, adult tricycle riders, pooch pansies and flabby families. I may be stetching the truth slightly, but the fun was had in nipping in and out and overtaking the blockages. It was great. Donald and I somehow lost Mark, who seemed to get a limited thrill from the rollerblading, and after a few repeat laps we headed back along the main promenade in Venice. There I was, back amongst the tourists who packed the concourse. I made it out alive, with a fresh lemonade and a silver bracelet. Perhaps being a tourist amongst tourists is not so bad after all? Yes it is... screaming babies with chocolate icecream dribbling down their grubby foaming chins... I am going to stop there because I am breaking out in a cold sweat at the thought of it! But having found Mark back at the car we set off back home, with a quick stop to have some flame grilled chicken in a Mexican fast food restaurant. Well.... perhaps I am being swayed towards fast food at least, because the Americans do it so much better.
PARTY. So it was Saturday night... and there was a party going on. Red and Black was the theme....and none of us was wearing red or black. But rules are to be broken are they not ladies and gentlemen? I am really quite grateful I did rebell because all of the colours of the RAINBOW seemed to be flowing through the doors to the club! We met up with one of the boys' friends who took us through the VIP list where we avoided paying a $60 entry fee and were attacked by a black, eye-lashed drag queen with a VIP list and wrist straps. I thanked my lucky stars that she was sitting down because I suspected that her heals could do some damage.
The club was once again an old theatre, with a main dancefloor on the ground floor. A vast, eery model of a clown leered out from the stage, threatening to re-enact a horror film carnage. Two of its large chums were towered from either side of the dancefloor, although I was more curious as to what was underneath their robes than scared of their creepy gaze. The best part of the club was the open air roof deck though, with a bar and sofas dotted around the space. The music was pumping through the whole buildiing, but the open air terrace was sociable and had a great vibe to it. And have I already mentioned that the locals love a British accent......?!
"Hello, I'm Edward, it is a pleasure to meet you, rah, rah, rah...."!
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