I remember being in my hotel room, stomach buzzing, tremulant with excitement. I remember putting a quarter into a machine to buy a cherry cola. I couldn't wait to see what my surroundings were like. I remember stepping out of the hotel and onto the sidewalk. I remember desolation, complete and utter desolation.
I couldn't see a tree, a patch of fertile soil or even a solitary member of the avian species. All I could see was the dull continuum of car parks, roads and buildings; united they all were, united by one thing - lifelessness.
I felt very much like returning home again.
2 comments:
I hate that you can't walk anywhere in L.A. and even if you could you wouldn't want to because the damn place reeks. You step outside only to have your olfactory assaulted by a pungent mix of garbage, blood, and money. It's a necessary evil though, you don't go to L.A. for the scenery or the scent, you go for the shopping and the party scene, both of which are well worth the all cement décor and the stench.
The damn place does reek. But, I was 13 or so when I went there though, so I probably wasn't there for the shopping and party scene. Well, maybe the party scene, but I doubt the folks would've indulged me much on that front.
Perhaps I need to go back there now as an adult? I'd be quite surprised, however, if it could rival the wildness that Melbourne can offer up over a weekend...
Post a Comment