My Vacation: 21.17 Miles Away

Some people would think it is insane to go on vacation in the town you live. I was one of those people until this past weekend. Fearing what would happen if I said no, I allowed my brother to take me for the weekend to the Beverly Hills Hotel. If I wasn't related and the same sex, I would have definitely assumed I would have had to put out for such an extravagant trip. Well at least not the same sex. I am giving my brother the benefit of the doubt here. As far as being related, come on, everyone has a cousin they want to bang. The weekend had everything I could have dreamed of in a vacation. There was a visit to the hospital, a Smokey and the Bandit Trans Am, bagels and lox, a dog shitting in the hotel room, cigars, and a motorcycle with a sidecar. If there had been a monkey knife fight I would have assumed I had died and gone to heaven.

So where do I begin. This might end up being a crazy long post. I am going to try and write everything in order but I am sure I will screw some of it up. Who gives a shit? Not like you can prove I didn't fight a ninja on my last night in the hotel.

A bit of a background on the trip and why it happened. My brother really wanted to go somewhere for Memorial Day weekend. He just didn't want to fly or drive anywhere far. Since we like eating at the Beverly Hills Hotel so much it seemed like a logical choice. The goal was to relax, eat well, and go for car rides to parts of LA we hadn't been to before. It was just me, my brother and a loaner Welsh Terrier named Terry the entire weekend.

The Hotel:

The Beverly Hills Hotel is owned by the Sultan of Brunei. It is by far the greatest hotel I have ever been to. If you have the means I highly recommend you partake. If you are walking down the hall and a hotel employee is coming at you they will immediately hug the closest wall and make sure not to make eye contact. I have never felt more like Cobra Commander in my entire life.


The Hospital:

For the last week I had explosive diarrhea. The kind of shitting you would read about in a medical journal. Without bragging I would say I pooped my pants at least three times. Even though my brother had a replacement lined up for the trip, I was determined to go and bleed his wallet by drinking every bottle of water in the mini fridge. With that in mind, I checked in and immediately crapped my guts out and cried like a new fish in prison. Not to have anyone ruin his trip, my brother insisted on taking me to the UCLA emergency room so that I could be repaired. Five hours and one IV bag later I was feeling great. By the way, never go to the hospital with someone who is impatient. My brother was screaming at me the entire time the IV was drip, drip, dripping to hurry up. Like I had any control over it.

Dog shitting in the room:

Terry is a great dog and I love spending time with him. He only has one major flaw. He does not know how to shit on a leash (who really does?). I walked him about 25 times on Saturday but not once did he even motion that he had to drop a deuce. Of course in the middle of watching The Long Goodbye in the room, Terry decided it was a good time to take a shit in the middle of the bed. Poor bastard, he must have had a gopher peaking for hours. He just didn't know what to do. After an initial once over by yours truly, I had house cleaning cleanse the mattress. So happy there was no eye contact. They fear their dear Cobra Commander.

Cigars:

My brother has lost his mind. He is certifiably insane. So insane that I am sure he will want me to change this post. First amendment motha-fucka!!! He has become obsessed with smoking cigars. I felt like I had somehow quantum leaped into Winston Churchill's wife's underwear the first time I woke up to see him standing in his dirty misshapen Nordstrom briefs, chewing some beaten up vile cigar at eight in the morning. I spent three days riding around in an Audi Quattro ashtray.


Smokey and the Bandit Trans Am and a Motorcycle with a Sidecar:

On one of our many rides through the country/Hollywood Hills, we came across two amazing vehicles. The first was an old BMW motorcycle with a sidecar. The owner was teaching his girlfriend how to drive while we sat on the side of the road and watched. I don't know what was cooler, the motorcycle or the hot girl learning to ride it wearing motorcycle boots. Does that count as irony? As for the Trans AM, we were driving up and down side streets admiring LA's mid century architecture when, out of nowhere, it appeared. It was the most beautiful site I have ever seen. I am going to say something sacrilegious now but bare with me. It was beautiful and it wasn't black (does that count as irony?). I don't even know what color it was. I literally can't remember, but it was so beautiful that I tried to find it again today to no avail. So many streets and so few Trans Ams. One day we will meet again.

Bagels, Lox, and good food in general:

The hotel has some of the best food I have ever had in my short life. Each morning once my bowels were healed we would have breakfast on the balcony overlooking all the little people. The nova was unfucking-believable. Not to mention the waffle I washed it down with. I could go on but you get the idea.

In Closing:

I had a great weekend. I didn't bring my computer and it was beyond nice to be unplugged. I got to see part of LA I had never seen before. I highly recommend going to Griffith Park, walking around the Fern Dell trail, and stopping at the Trails Pieshop for a slice of pie. Also if you are in town hit the Pacific Dining Car downtown. It makes the one in Santa Monica feel like a cheap imititation. Who am I kidding, if you are reading this, we are friends. If you are in town, I will take you around.

Thanks Lewis, Terry, the hotel staff, and the staff at UCLA for making this a great weekend.