LOS ANGELES TRAVEL TALES WITH THE MARQUIS OF CHIPPING SODBURY
Created | Updated Aug 6, 2004
"Any plants or seeds to declare?" drawled the customs official at LAX airport whilst he studied my passport.
"I beg your pardon?" I said rather flumexed. It was not a question I had been expecting, especially after a 14 hour flight. A flight that was supposed to take 11 hours but the pilot had decided to take the scenic route over greenland(?!).
"Any plants or seeds to declare!" he demanded in severe tones. Unbeknownst to him he was talking rubbish to the wrong person in the wrong mood at the wrong time.
"Why on Earth would I be carrying folliage on holiday with me? And come to think of it, exactly how many British holidaymakers have you come across who'll only set foot on American soil when accompanied at all times by their potted Aspidistra?"
"Just respond to the question please Sir."
"Well as it happens, no, I don't. However if I find half a Banyan tree shoved up my tochas you'll be the first to know!"
"There's no need to give attitude Sir," and so saying he stamped my passport with far more force than was necessary. As I set off in search of baggage reclaim (a contradiction in terms) I heard him repeat his herbaceous question in deadly earnest to the next couple. This was my first lesson in dealing with Americans and it is a valuable lesson so I pass it on to you:
DON'T bother using sarcasm on Americans, THEY DON'T GET IT! They stare at you blankly like they've been stunned by a cattle prod. It is also worth noteing that IRONY is a completely alien concept to them. Poor things. Maybe it's a defective gene. Maybe it's a defective country.
Now at the risk of contradicting myself I must say that out of all my travels around this peculiar little planet the Americans are the friendliest lot I've ever come across. Always willing to offer a word of advice to a jetlagged traveller whether they want it or not. For example, as I stepped out of the taxi at my motel, located at the seamier end of Hollywood boulevard, the cab driver turned and studied me for a moment.
"You British?" he enquired.
"Yes," I said.
"Your first time in L.A.?"
"Er...yes."
"Well if anyone offers you anything, tell 'em to p**s off."
"Fine."
Of course this immediately gave me visions of eight foot crack dealers with gold teeth sidling up to me and offering their wares. This led to visions of the number of pieces he would leave me in if I told him to p**s off. Not an encouraging start.
The motel itself was pink. It had a pink dinner at one end, a pink swimming pool the size of a tin of Duraglit and a reception that looked suspiciously like a porta-cabin. In fact it was a porta-cabin. A pink one.The beautiful Hawaiian girl behind the counter spoke English with a Spanish accent and handed me a key as she pointed out the 'complimentary continental breakfast'. A plate of stale doughnuts and a coffee machine at the other end of the room. I wandered over and filled a plastic cup with the super-unleaded high octane rocket fuel masquerading as coffee, waited till she had turned her back and stuffed my pockets with doughnuts. Well she did say 'free'.
My room was spacious and the bathroom had a shower so large it had a fake marble seat half way down in case you ran out of breathe on the way to the taps and needed a little sit down. The room also had a T.V. that seemed to be showing 'I Love Lucy' on every channel.
NOTE: Lucille Ball has practically been cannonized in the United States. DON'T say a word against her unless you want your face remodelled.
Speaking of violence, far be it from me to judge a countrys crime rate two hours after I've landed in it, but let's just say the knife and chain fight that nice gang had in the motel carpark that night did make me a tiny bit paranoid. In fact it had me locking the windows and doors, drawing the curtains and cowering under the duvet until either sleep or jetlag bailed me out.
The next morning I woke early, showered, watched an episode of 'I Love Lucy', stole a few doughnuts and hit the tourist trail. So with your kind indulgence and my kind permission I will now provide you with some choice DO's & DON'Ts for the first time visitor to Los Angeles.
DON'T bother visiting the Hollywood Bowl. Looking at a postcard of it generates about as much excitement as calling in person.
DO expect everyone who finds out you're British to think you know Elizabeth Hurley and The Prime Minister personally.
NOTE: I don't like to disappoint my public and usually make up wild tales of drunken debauchery and acts of gross indecency with various British celebrities.
DON'T trust any taxi driver who's first language is not English. They get lost on purpose and when you complain they hurl a torrent of spanish at you. Please also note that most of them carry knives. Big knives.
DO visit Universal Studios but DON'T volunteer at any of the live shows unless public humiliation is some form of therapy to you. Some years ago a friend of mine was hauled up on stage at the Conan Experience, wrapped in the skin of a long dead and unidentified animal and commanded by a Goblin to 'roar like a Barbarian' in front of a hysterical audience who cheered him on. He still curses Arnold Gotnopecker to this day.
DISNEYLAND. A definite must. Well you can't go to L.A. and not go to Disneyland can you. Or can you? Actually the magical place of childlike wonder isn't anywhere near L.A. (Come to think of it L.A. isn't anywhere near L.A.) In fact Walts world is a dull two hour car ride away. My advice is to get there early and only buy a one day pass as it should be all you need, (or can stand). I was surprised how small the place was. I always thought Disneyland was about the same size as say, Switzerland. It isn't. Now the first thing to remember is where you parked your car. If you forget you'll probably never see it again. The car park is the size of Switzerland.
Your first impression as you pass through the main gate is that the whole place is made of fibre-glass. You'd be right. It is. It's also pink. Very pink. (What is it with Californians and the colour pink? Answers on a dirty postcard please.)
I must warn you if you have small children that the approach of an eight foot Mickey Mouse tends to have the same effect on them as the Alien did on Sigourney Weaver. They scream and run. Be prepared to give chase.
The other thing one notices immediately is how anticeptically clean the place is. Not a drop of litter to be found. Even dust wouldn't be seen dead there. The thing that struck me as odd was that although I spent the best part of a day wandering around I never saw one litter-picker-upper. However a source, whom I shall not identify because I promised not to (but let's just say his paycheque is signed 'Mickey'), told me in the strictest confidence that litterbugs have been spotted being dragged into secret underground passages by Goofy and were never heard of again!! In fact the whole place gives you the feeling you somehow wandered into Stepford and it's not a feeling that sits snuggly on the shoulders.
Nevertheless all these initial misgivings soon vanished when I hit the rides which are brilliant fun. It's true to say that you enter the place as a mature well balanced adult and leave as a jubilant 8 year old. Mind you, I've never met an eight year old who can afford the prices. Be warned food, drinks and gifts are fiendishly expensive and I forgot to mention that you have to que for everything (but I'm British so that didn't bother me. Bit like the War really).
DO visit Beverley Hills but bare in mind the designer shops there despise tourists who don't carry Platinum Amex cards, (and I mean solid Platinum!). I was also warned not to wander around the streets wearing casual clothes. Beverley Hills has it's own exclusive police force (of course) who get very jumpy and arrest anyone who's out for a walk on the suspicion of casing the fabulous mansions. Apparently you're safe if you wear designer shorts and you jog. All in all not the most welcoming of places but worth a visit so you can tell everyone about the time you went shopping in Beverley Hills. Just omit to tell them it was only window shopping. Who knows, buy the time you read this they may have started charging for that.
DO visit San Diego Zoo. It's the best zoo I've ever been to bar none. Sea World my driver didn't rate, so I didn't bother, so I can't comment, so there! Besides I don't like things aquatic. Your hair gets wet and you can't smoke in the water.
The Hollywood Wax Museum is disappointing but across the road is the 'Strange but True' museum which is .....well, strange but true. Name me one other place you can find a 12 foot long recreation of 'The Last Supper' made out of toast?! Down the road you'll find Notts Berry Farm which is a wild west theme park and, according to the brouchure, the official home of Camp Snoopy, which would explain why he walks like that. The only advice I can give concerning this place is that if you ride the steam train that goes round the park and a masked cowboy points a revolver in your face mumbling something in such a heavy mid-west accent that you can't understand a word of it, then do as I did. Smile politely and say "We shall have fog by tea-time." It confuses him and he goes away.
Do spare an hour to visit the Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard. Admittedly the frontage is a jaded remnant of the splendour it used to possess in its hayday. The interesting part is the front courtyard that preserves in concrete the hand and foot prints of the all time greats of the movie screen. Although I did think the tyre tracks of R2-D2 was pushing it a bit.
DON'T take the trip across the boarder to Tijuana in Mexico. I did and you'll just have to trust me when I tell you that you won't like it. Endless markets all selling leather goods and tacky jewellery. I also couldn't help but notice that 90% of the men on the street carried large jagged edged hunting knives in their belts. To my almost certain knowledge Tijuana is not world famous for its excess of wild boars roaming around the streets so you can draw your own conclusions. The high spot of the trip was when one of the stall holders tried to sell me an 8 year old boy who he said would be my slave in any way I cared to mention on the condition I took him out of the country. After I politely refused his kind offer ( politely because of the big knife in his belt) he changed tacts and offered to buy me; by the hour.
My overall impression of the Mexican experience? Well as a wise man once said, ' If God wanted to give the world an enema, he'd put the tube in Tijuana'.
IMPORTANT NOTE: There Is No Such Thing As Excess in The USA.......especially when food is involved. A $4 plate of spaghetti and meatballs can feed your family for the full two weeks.
ANOTHER IMPORTANT NOTE: Always put on a posh British accent and they'll do anything for you but don't be offended if they mistake you for an Australian. No-one ever accused Americans of being Gods brightest children.
No-one.
Well that concludes my marvelous L.A. adventure. The only thing that marred my trip home was the 11 hours I spent trapped in a tri-star with a hyperactive ten year old whose parents started popping capsules within the first ten minutes of the flight and spent the rest of it in a coma. If I could have figured out a way of ditching the body I'd have strangled the little s**t. But don't let that put you off. Los Angeles is a fascinating place full of wonders for you to smell, touch and stuff in your mouth. And don't forget the food!
"I beg your pardon?" I said rather flumexed. It was not a question I had been expecting, especially after a 14 hour flight. A flight that was supposed to take 11 hours but the pilot had decided to take the scenic route over greenland(?!).
"Any plants or seeds to declare!" he demanded in severe tones. Unbeknownst to him he was talking rubbish to the wrong person in the wrong mood at the wrong time.
"Why on Earth would I be carrying folliage on holiday with me? And come to think of it, exactly how many British holidaymakers have you come across who'll only set foot on American soil when accompanied at all times by their potted Aspidistra?"
"Just respond to the question please Sir."
"Well as it happens, no, I don't. However if I find half a Banyan tree shoved up my tochas you'll be the first to know!"
"There's no need to give attitude Sir," and so saying he stamped my passport with far more force than was necessary. As I set off in search of baggage reclaim (a contradiction in terms) I heard him repeat his herbaceous question in deadly earnest to the next couple. This was my first lesson in dealing with Americans and it is a valuable lesson so I pass it on to you:
DON'T bother using sarcasm on Americans, THEY DON'T GET IT! They stare at you blankly like they've been stunned by a cattle prod. It is also worth noteing that IRONY is a completely alien concept to them. Poor things. Maybe it's a defective gene. Maybe it's a defective country.
Now at the risk of contradicting myself I must say that out of all my travels around this peculiar little planet the Americans are the friendliest lot I've ever come across. Always willing to offer a word of advice to a jetlagged traveller whether they want it or not. For example, as I stepped out of the taxi at my motel, located at the seamier end of Hollywood boulevard, the cab driver turned and studied me for a moment.
"You British?" he enquired.
"Yes," I said.
"Your first time in L.A.?"
"Er...yes."
"Well if anyone offers you anything, tell 'em to p**s off."
"Fine."
Of course this immediately gave me visions of eight foot crack dealers with gold teeth sidling up to me and offering their wares. This led to visions of the number of pieces he would leave me in if I told him to p**s off. Not an encouraging start.
The motel itself was pink. It had a pink dinner at one end, a pink swimming pool the size of a tin of Duraglit and a reception that looked suspiciously like a porta-cabin. In fact it was a porta-cabin. A pink one.The beautiful Hawaiian girl behind the counter spoke English with a Spanish accent and handed me a key as she pointed out the 'complimentary continental breakfast'. A plate of stale doughnuts and a coffee machine at the other end of the room. I wandered over and filled a plastic cup with the super-unleaded high octane rocket fuel masquerading as coffee, waited till she had turned her back and stuffed my pockets with doughnuts. Well she did say 'free'.
My room was spacious and the bathroom had a shower so large it had a fake marble seat half way down in case you ran out of breathe on the way to the taps and needed a little sit down. The room also had a T.V. that seemed to be showing 'I Love Lucy' on every channel.
NOTE: Lucille Ball has practically been cannonized in the United States. DON'T say a word against her unless you want your face remodelled.
Speaking of violence, far be it from me to judge a countrys crime rate two hours after I've landed in it, but let's just say the knife and chain fight that nice gang had in the motel carpark that night did make me a tiny bit paranoid. In fact it had me locking the windows and doors, drawing the curtains and cowering under the duvet until either sleep or jetlag bailed me out.
The next morning I woke early, showered, watched an episode of 'I Love Lucy', stole a few doughnuts and hit the tourist trail. So with your kind indulgence and my kind permission I will now provide you with some choice DO's & DON'Ts for the first time visitor to Los Angeles.
DON'T bother visiting the Hollywood Bowl. Looking at a postcard of it generates about as much excitement as calling in person.
DO expect everyone who finds out you're British to think you know Elizabeth Hurley and The Prime Minister personally.
NOTE: I don't like to disappoint my public and usually make up wild tales of drunken debauchery and acts of gross indecency with various British celebrities.
DON'T trust any taxi driver who's first language is not English. They get lost on purpose and when you complain they hurl a torrent of spanish at you. Please also note that most of them carry knives. Big knives.
DO visit Universal Studios but DON'T volunteer at any of the live shows unless public humiliation is some form of therapy to you. Some years ago a friend of mine was hauled up on stage at the Conan Experience, wrapped in the skin of a long dead and unidentified animal and commanded by a Goblin to 'roar like a Barbarian' in front of a hysterical audience who cheered him on. He still curses Arnold Gotnopecker to this day.
DISNEYLAND. A definite must. Well you can't go to L.A. and not go to Disneyland can you. Or can you? Actually the magical place of childlike wonder isn't anywhere near L.A. (Come to think of it L.A. isn't anywhere near L.A.) In fact Walts world is a dull two hour car ride away. My advice is to get there early and only buy a one day pass as it should be all you need, (or can stand). I was surprised how small the place was. I always thought Disneyland was about the same size as say, Switzerland. It isn't. Now the first thing to remember is where you parked your car. If you forget you'll probably never see it again. The car park is the size of Switzerland.
Your first impression as you pass through the main gate is that the whole place is made of fibre-glass. You'd be right. It is. It's also pink. Very pink. (What is it with Californians and the colour pink? Answers on a dirty postcard please.)
I must warn you if you have small children that the approach of an eight foot Mickey Mouse tends to have the same effect on them as the Alien did on Sigourney Weaver. They scream and run. Be prepared to give chase.
The other thing one notices immediately is how anticeptically clean the place is. Not a drop of litter to be found. Even dust wouldn't be seen dead there. The thing that struck me as odd was that although I spent the best part of a day wandering around I never saw one litter-picker-upper. However a source, whom I shall not identify because I promised not to (but let's just say his paycheque is signed 'Mickey'), told me in the strictest confidence that litterbugs have been spotted being dragged into secret underground passages by Goofy and were never heard of again!! In fact the whole place gives you the feeling you somehow wandered into Stepford and it's not a feeling that sits snuggly on the shoulders.
Nevertheless all these initial misgivings soon vanished when I hit the rides which are brilliant fun. It's true to say that you enter the place as a mature well balanced adult and leave as a jubilant 8 year old. Mind you, I've never met an eight year old who can afford the prices. Be warned food, drinks and gifts are fiendishly expensive and I forgot to mention that you have to que for everything (but I'm British so that didn't bother me. Bit like the War really).
DO visit Beverley Hills but bare in mind the designer shops there despise tourists who don't carry Platinum Amex cards, (and I mean solid Platinum!). I was also warned not to wander around the streets wearing casual clothes. Beverley Hills has it's own exclusive police force (of course) who get very jumpy and arrest anyone who's out for a walk on the suspicion of casing the fabulous mansions. Apparently you're safe if you wear designer shorts and you jog. All in all not the most welcoming of places but worth a visit so you can tell everyone about the time you went shopping in Beverley Hills. Just omit to tell them it was only window shopping. Who knows, buy the time you read this they may have started charging for that.
DO visit San Diego Zoo. It's the best zoo I've ever been to bar none. Sea World my driver didn't rate, so I didn't bother, so I can't comment, so there! Besides I don't like things aquatic. Your hair gets wet and you can't smoke in the water.
The Hollywood Wax Museum is disappointing but across the road is the 'Strange but True' museum which is .....well, strange but true. Name me one other place you can find a 12 foot long recreation of 'The Last Supper' made out of toast?! Down the road you'll find Notts Berry Farm which is a wild west theme park and, according to the brouchure, the official home of Camp Snoopy, which would explain why he walks like that. The only advice I can give concerning this place is that if you ride the steam train that goes round the park and a masked cowboy points a revolver in your face mumbling something in such a heavy mid-west accent that you can't understand a word of it, then do as I did. Smile politely and say "We shall have fog by tea-time." It confuses him and he goes away.
Do spare an hour to visit the Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard. Admittedly the frontage is a jaded remnant of the splendour it used to possess in its hayday. The interesting part is the front courtyard that preserves in concrete the hand and foot prints of the all time greats of the movie screen. Although I did think the tyre tracks of R2-D2 was pushing it a bit.
DON'T take the trip across the boarder to Tijuana in Mexico. I did and you'll just have to trust me when I tell you that you won't like it. Endless markets all selling leather goods and tacky jewellery. I also couldn't help but notice that 90% of the men on the street carried large jagged edged hunting knives in their belts. To my almost certain knowledge Tijuana is not world famous for its excess of wild boars roaming around the streets so you can draw your own conclusions. The high spot of the trip was when one of the stall holders tried to sell me an 8 year old boy who he said would be my slave in any way I cared to mention on the condition I took him out of the country. After I politely refused his kind offer ( politely because of the big knife in his belt) he changed tacts and offered to buy me; by the hour.
My overall impression of the Mexican experience? Well as a wise man once said, ' If God wanted to give the world an enema, he'd put the tube in Tijuana'.
IMPORTANT NOTE: There Is No Such Thing As Excess in The USA.......especially when food is involved. A $4 plate of spaghetti and meatballs can feed your family for the full two weeks.
ANOTHER IMPORTANT NOTE: Always put on a posh British accent and they'll do anything for you but don't be offended if they mistake you for an Australian. No-one ever accused Americans of being Gods brightest children.
No-one.
Well that concludes my marvelous L.A. adventure. The only thing that marred my trip home was the 11 hours I spent trapped in a tri-star with a hyperactive ten year old whose parents started popping capsules within the first ten minutes of the flight and spent the rest of it in a coma. If I could have figured out a way of ditching the body I'd have strangled the little s**t. But don't let that put you off. Los Angeles is a fascinating place full of wonders for you to smell, touch and stuff in your mouth. And don't forget the food!
