Back from LA

Suddenly I'm a world traveler. My daughter Becky surprised me with an invitation to visit her in Los Angeles. How could I refuse? Never been there before. In fact, I've never really been her guest before.

I guess I'm getting old. The prospect of flying (and facing the whole anti-terrorism search thingy) had me pretty scared. I kept envisioning someone doing a full body cavity search on me or finding a reason that my ballpoint pen is a weapon. Of course it didn't happen that way, though I don't think I'd ever recommend two seven-hour flights as a form of recreation. It's what you have to do. That's it. (Though I did manage to read a whole Harry Potter.)

High point of flying: picked out the Broadmoor Hotel as we passed over Colorado Springs.

Low point of flying: one hour stopover in the incredibly tacky Las Vegas airport (complete with slot machines, posters of the "Thunder Down Under" all-male review from Australia, and an ad for a company that rents machine guns by the hour).

Los Angeles is pretty much as I pictured it, though a LOT more desert-like. More cars and traffic too. Seems like most people are Hispanic. Skateboards are standard transportation for most schoolboys (which probably explains why most of them look a lot slimmer and fitter than their Ohio counterparts). Mint green stucco houses alternate with pink ones. Becky lives in an unusual apartment building: ochre.

One of our day trips was to a grocery store that sells almost nothing except pop and beer. Big store. Pop from everywhere in the country. Want a bottle of Green River from Chicago? Genuine Moxie from New York? Cricket Cola from Potomac, Maryland? How about Coca Cola with real cane sugar instead of the corn sweetener that's usual? He's got them all.

Of course, we had to do the Studio tour. Sony's is within walking distance of Becky's apartment, so we did that one. I almost got a glimpse of Adam Sandler's car. Saw the sets for Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. (One German family on the tour had never heard of either TV show, so they weren't as impressed as we were.) We did the Walk of Fame on Hollywood Boulevard, but that was depressing. Sad, tacky, run-down. Definitely don't take the kids.

The whole thing was kind of mythical though. I guess, since I grew up in Washington DC, that I miss the mythic dimension to my original home town. Swinging by the White House, then proceeding down Pennsylvania Avenue doesn't sound like a big deal to me. But when I was in LA and we made a turn onto Sunset Strip, then ended up on Ventura Boulevard, I was back in the land of dreams.

Food? Luke recommended the burrito stand near Becky's old apartment, so we had those. Definitely wonderful. One evening when I was on my own, I walked to a New York deli and had hot pastrami on rye, with an egg cream on the side. You never know what you'll find in LA. I do wish, though, we had stopped where the guy with the pickup truck was selling coco fresco. Might have been interesting.

Well, now I'm back in the real world, where grass grows and rain falls (Lots and lots of it—I missed all the flooding while I was in the desert). Teaching began again yesterday. It was really a good summer.