1 post tagged “roll”
....this is my continuation of my "there is no way humanly possible" blog entry.
After we finished at the Hollywood sign, the other requirement for the UK audience was Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. Certainly understandable. But this was the height of tourist season and a convertible crammed with five people -- one with a huge camera pointing at the driver, another tending to a microphone was bound to command attention cruising down Rodeo mid-afternoon. My poor son was squeezed so hard between the two crew in the back seat he didn't need a seatbelt....even a head on collision wasn't going to dislodge him. Everyone was cramped. Everyone was miserable....and we were having a very good time.
I drove two loops down Sunset Blvd., through the Hills of Beverly then down Rodeo. Finally, we wrapped for the day. Everyone, myself included, with my 50 spf sunscreen on, was burned. Within days my burn looks like what every non-west coast native assumes most LA folk look like....cheery with great color.
Days went by with Ruggie Media covering the bill for the hotel until finally, the day arrived when we were to leave. Funny enough, the Executive Producer of Jade's PA, Paul Flexton was in town. On the way to the airport to fly to London, we met him for a late lunch at Chin Chin's Sunset.
Paul didn't look the part of LA Hollywood. He was burnt to a crisp (obviously underestimating So Cal sun) and sort of quiet...unassuming. He was on his way to the William Morris Agency after finishing lunch with us but had no idea how to get there. Didn't even know what street it was on.
I wasn't sure if this was promising or ominous. I later found out.
We left Paul in a hurry, ditched our car at my friend, Stacy Cheriff's house, and graciously accepted a ride to LAX from her.
Cayman was so excited about the flight on Virgin, Upper Class that he couldn't wait to board. I could wait a long time. I don't like to fly. We sat in the Virgin lounge, me scouring my luggage for my sleeping/anti-experience pills; Cayman with his feet up, sampling the offerings of the food bar and drink wall. I practiced deep breathing and waiting for something, anything to take effect. Cayman went on and on about the physics of flying and pitch, roll and yaw, smoke in the cockpit, what can go wrong, what won't go wrong, how if we were going down he would wake me up so we could die together while saying our last goodbyes, blah, blah, blah. I tried to shut out his audio but he loves to make me nervous...thank God for sleeping pills.
They didn't work that well though. But well enough that I could get on the plane, figure out how to recline the seat into a six foot long bed, put in an order for a massage and go to sleep. I remember during our eleven or twelve hour flight that we ordered a dinner of duck breast and an appetizer of something goat cheesy but that's it. Next time I was fully conscious, we were approaching the UK and being asked to put our beds up and seats down. THAT is how I like to fly...only slightly aware of what is happening.
When we landed, Cayman filled me in that he hadn't slept the entire night. He played games, ordered more food, watched movies and put his bed up and down about seventeen times. Since the seats are all window, at an angle and he was behind me, I had no idea. Not to worry, he told me, he was wide awake and ready to explore London.
By the time our car brought us into the city, Cayman was dead asleep on my arm, and there was quite literally, no waking him up. The driver drove slowly through Bloomsbury until he pulled up to our hotel. I half-carried 133 lb. Cayman out the back and the driver pulled all our bags out of the trunk. After receiving his tip, he zoomed off.
Trouble is, he left us at a hotel that wasn't ours. I had no idea where our hotel was and my only link to it, peeled out.
Fortunately, the concierge at the hotel where we were left, checked the hotels in the neighborhood and found out where we were supposed to be. He loaded all our luggage on a cart and walked us through the London streets to the right place. Cayman never opened his eyes and was only half aware that I was dragging him along beside me.
That was our London welcome and it only got more interesting from there.
