City of Angels VII (and final for this trip)

So I've been in Hollyweird for a week now and I'm heading home tomorrow. It's been an interesting trip and I've met some cool people and seen some interesting stuff. And now I sit here in bed, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, washed down with milk brought to me by room service - I love the fact that I just ordered from the 'little person' menu...

On Saturday night I pondered, as I drove, the weirdness of the blog entry I could have written that night. It would have gone something like this, indulge me, if you will...

"I finished the shoot down in Hollywood, headed for the hotel and cleaned up. I called down to the valet to bring the Mustang up and headed off for dinner. I drove down North Highland, turned right on Santa Monica Boulevard, left on La Brea and south towards Interstate 10. I took the 10 west towards Santa Monica and stayed on as the 10 became the 1, the Pacific Coast Highway. I carried on north until I got to Malibu and headed to Dukes. The valet caught my keys as I rushed in to meet my late dinner companions. We talked and talked. We ate and took pics of the baby I was meeting for the first time and then we took our leave back into the night.

I headed back down the 1 until the backed up traffic out of Santa Monica proved too much. As the traffic ground to a halt I decided to bail out, flipping one in the middle of the PCH and heading back up to the previous junction to take Sunset all the way into town. The windy road passed through Pacific Palisades, up through Brentwood, over the 405 and down into Bel Air. From there it winds past the Los Angeles Country Club, then into Beverly Hills - look, there's the Beverly Hills Hotel - and into West Hollywood. As the traffic piled up I drove slowly past all of the clubs, the hotels and restaurants on Sunset and finally ended up back at my hotel."

The thing that struck me is that sometimes I'm still the little boy from Nottingham. Still the 16 year old looking forward to Wednesday because that was the day my boss would ask me to accompany him to the bank up 'in town'. I'm still the young man waiting at the bus stop on a Friday night to take me home to my parents house years before I owned a car.

I realise that the Mustang isn't 'me' it's just the car Hertz gave me. I had dinner in Malibu because nor is Bel Air or Beverly Hills. I also realise that to some driving along Sunset Boulevard is no big deal but it'll be a sad day when it becomes no big deal to me...