The first time I did Los Angeles in 2004, I was young, eager, naive. It sounded like it was one of those cities that you’d reminisce about with your friends years later (“Yo, remember when we…”) because it seemed like the epitome of hot and cool. I’d strongly beg to differ now - and that’s nothing against Los Angelinos. I went again in 2007 for a press trip, and enjoyed a a classier experience (Asia de Cuba at the Mondrian friends - boom, boom!) I was still unimpressed. Here’s why:
1. Pretty isn’t pretty enough. It’s the reason you couldn’t pay me enough to rock a bikini amongst Lala’s beach sorority because my size 10/12 makes me look like Eddie Murphy’s Rasputia compared to some of those cheerio zeros. And The Pretty is EVERYWHERE - I was served at the Mondrian by a British model, spotted one of the Mary Mary sisters on Sunset Boulevard and nearly bumped into a kinda cute-ish Randy Jackson. He’s lost alot of weight. Then there’s the people who’s faces resemble baked playdough; all that plastic surgery really freaked me out - you know you’re scared when those images sneak into your dreams.
2. Vroom, vroom. I believe that’s the sound a quality car makes, and you better hope you have access to one because taking the bus is as ghetto at Flavour Flav’s pinky toe. Yuck and yuck. It’s the transport of choice for the wealthy-nots and having experienced waiting for one (long) and taking one (er, where does one get off?) I’ve learned my lesson to never do it again. Ever.
3. Food. It’s boring as it gets in my opinion because everything is so carb-less and sanitized. Los Angelinos like to watch their weight (Re-read point one, The Pretty) meaning if you want something really messy (and tasty!) You might wanna do McDonalds and such; although knowing this town, they’ve probably sucked all the fat out of that too. Saying that, Rosco’s Chicken and Waffles was AIGHT for “fried” chicken. A little dry though.
4. Distance. From London, that is. Two flights, about 11 hours which is 5 hours longer than I need to be in the air to be honest. It’s totally my problem, but if my destination was worth it, I wouldn’t be complaining.
5. Hollywood Boulevard. Waaack. Sing it with me one more time. Waaaaaaaaaaaaack. And it’d have to be for me to bleat that 90’s catchphrase with such a passion. Yes, it’s got the Hollywood Walk of Fame (and admittedly, I did seek out the Stevie Wonder star with glee), but it’s just so underwhelming. After all, it is pavement. And the fact that the infamous Hollywood sign also looked like it was surviving on its last legs while everything else just looked really cheap it justifies why the only suitable discription for this place comes down to one word. Wack.
