The Bankers Escape Scott Free
End of July 22 Column

My Annual LA Trip

Sunday

San Francisco, like New York, is a three-airport ecosystem, with San Jose, Oakland and San Francisco all interacting with each other. Thus, the fact that a runway was closed at SFO meant that, when the wind changed, the takeoff direction at Oakland had to be delayed, making my flight to LAX an hour late.

Fortunately, I did not have a bus to catch, although it did cut into my nap time. I got to Su Casa, a vacation condo building on Oceanfront Walk in Venice, just in time park, with difficulty, in the tiny four-car lot, to check into my oceanview third-floor room, shower and to leave. On my way out, I noticed a lot of very tough looking men smoking outside the building next door. Tattoos, the whole nine yards. The sign on the building says "Phoenix House." It took me a while to realize that this is a community rehab facility of some sort. Oh well, that's Venice Beach for you.

A mere hour later, I was in Manhattan Beach where, after a trifling decade, I finally turned the correct way on Manhattan Beach Blvd to get to the U's house. We had some snacks, then headed out to dinner at the oceanside Strand House, which had one entire wall open to the pleasant outside salt sea air. I always enjoy their company, as does my family. It's too bad I'm the only one who travels to LA anymore.

Although famed for its fish, it had neither sand dabs (my favorite) or scallops, so I went with the short ribs, which were OK, albeit a little dry. I had resolved to get to bed early each night this year. I failed. To bed at midnight, an hour later than usual at home.
 

Monday

A 45 minute walk on the beach in the morning, followed by eggs prepared on the two-burner gas stove in my room. I sautéed the onions without oil, which was interesting. An hour drive got me to Palos Verdes, where JS lives. Every year, we talk, walk, have lunch and get driven home by his wife of 52 years, B.

This year, because of the heat (it was in the 80s at the beach!) we walked 2.5 miles to a Japanese place in lieu of our usual 4 mile walk to a brew pub. We spoke of cabbages and kings, and I watched him keep his database up to date. He spends a lot of time each day taping movies and tv shows, and had done 14 before lunch on four recorders in three rooms.

I asked about my favorite silent film, Frank Capra's Power of the Press, which until recently could only be viewed at the UCLA film library. It has been released on DVD he told me. Huzzah! I ordered it.

I chose not to take the freeway to my next appointment. Surface street advantage: no major traffic jams. Disadvantage: Palos Verdes to Century City in 90 minutes. Would the freeway have been faster? Maybe. Duller? Certainly. The AMC Century City 16 is in the Westfield Mall. Despite the long ride, I got there early, nodded off waiting for N.

We watched World War Z (reviewed below). Reserved seats. Neal has decided the rush to seats is something he no longer wishes to participate in. He also does not take Southwest Airline to SFO from LAX for the same reason. I ordered a regular soda instead of a diet soda, after a lecture from my MD about the cancerous effects of aspartame. I only drank half of it. That was an act of will.

Then we went to a restaurant called Craft, a block away, next to the CAA talent agency. It is the pricy LA outpost of a pricy New York restaurant. Grilled octopus, heirloom Caprese salad, scallops in vermouth butter, brocollini and corn with a Moroccan spice to die for. Hazelnut and chocolate ice cream for desert. Yum. The decor was lovely, the conversation lively.

 The only thing I can rely upon about the technology in my home is that it will fail in my absence. During dinner, my wife called to say that her Internet was down. I did troubleshooting by phone and, blessedly, was able to nail down the problem. Someday, I'd like to be out of town for four days where nothing went wrong. To bed at midnight. Again. :-(

Tuesday

Up to early. Like people before the invention of the electric light, I awoke at 4:30, couldn't go back to sleep, did email for an hour, then back to bed for an hour. Pheh. Not very satisfying.

Tuesday morning at 10, I showed up in Studio City for my annual walk/political discussion with famed science fiction writer, and a former columnist for me at Byte.com, Jerry Pournelle. It was nearly 100 degrees out, so we skipped our usual hike up the back side of the Hollywood Hills and did 90 minutes on the flats instead, being alternatively led and followed by his beautiful husky, Sable. Lunch, as is our tradition, at The Good Earth a few blocks from his house. A rollicking session, as always. For Jerry's take, see his blog post, A visit from a teacher; and a disturbing trend.

Then to Simi Valley for a tour of Air Force One at the Ronald Reagan Presidential Museum. Alas, you can’t get straight to the plane, you have to walk through all the other rooms first, and pay $16 for the privilege. I already know way more about Ronald Reagan that I want/need to, including all about his radio, movie, liberal democrat, union leader, GE spokesman, California Governer, president and post-presidential years. Next to Richard Nixon, he’s been the most omnipresent and obnoxious politician in my lifetime.

Back to the Los Feliz section of LA for dinner with BG, whom I call “Johnny Stockmarketseed,” for all the stock exchanges he has set up around the world. An autodidact, he is fascinating company. I met him when I did a profile of him for InformationWEEK magazine, and we’ve been friends ever since. For the first time, we spent much of our time talking about information systems, and our early programming jobs. I was delighted. His usual Italian place is now closed on Tuesday nights, so we had prime rib a few doors up the street on Vermont Avenue, a hotbed of tattooed hipsters. Dresden restaurant where we ate, had a lovely retro feel. 50s music, white banquettes, low lights and prime rib. I loved it!

Wednesday

How much do I love trains? I can finally quantify it. I was staying in Venice Beach. I wanted to visit with my friend in Escondido. To drive would, according to Google Maps, take two hours in each direction. Given that I would be in rush hour both ways, call it three hours each way. Door to door, the day lasted 15 hours (with a bonus hour at the end which I will explain later), five of which I spent with Jim Forbes. Thus six hours of travel time became 10 hours of travel time. I love trains four hours worth.

I actually love them more than that, because I would have been exhausted and infuriated by the drive, while the bus and train ride left me relaxed, mellow, and, actually, quite happy.

The day started at 5:30am, with a departure for downtown Santa Monica. I parked and caught the 6:15 Big Blue Bus Rapid 10 line to Los Angeles’ beautiful 1939 Union Station in the heart of downtown. This part of the trip was not so exciting. Some people thrill to bus watching. I do not. A bus is a bus. But I was damned if I was going to drive downtown from Venice Beach during rush hour.

Union Station was where the fun began. Large train stations, here and abroad, are largely about tunnels, since passengers have to go under the tracks to get to their trains. The Union Station tunnel is grand.

I caught Amtrak’s Surfliner to Oceanside. For 10 or 15 miles, it runs directly next to the beach, providing the second-best scenery I have ever seen on Amtrak. It is second only to the southern Cascade mountains on the Coast Starlight. Between K-Falls and Eugene in 6 in the morning, with several feet of snow, the view is amazing. Admittedly, I’ve never taken the train from Oakland to Reno; I hear the Sierra Nevada are pretty impressive too, especially in winter.

At Oceanside, I grabbed a Sprinter to Escondido. It runs on a 20 mile spur of old ATSF track, devoid of passengers from 1940 to 2007, but, fortunately, not sold off. It has been completely revamped with—concrete ties! Only 10% of U.S. ties are concrete, and I have now seen them on two of the country’s newest lines, the Sprinter and the Roadrunner in New Mexico. And, of course, BART. The equipment is a bus on tracks (I am sure electrification would be scary expensive), but it was clean, comfortable and quiet.

Once in Escondido, I got to spend five hours with former colleague J. We had lunch, talked, drove around and went to a produce stand. Five hours later, it was time for the return trip. Just as nice as the trip out, but in reverse.

About that extra hour… I got back to Su Casa, only to discover the five-space lot behind the condos was full. There is a lot four doors down in which we guests are entitle to park… unless it is full of service trucks for a night shoot on the beach. Gotta keep those jobs in LA. I weaved my way through the trucks to what appeared to be an open space. The guards did not chase me out. We’ll see if my car is towed in the morning. [It wasn't] But that wasn’t the whole extra hour. I went to my room, inserted the card key, and… nothing. Tried again. The desk agent tried. Finally, we called the manager, who used his mechanical key, then said to me, “Batteries in the door are dead.” “How do I do my walk on the beach in the morning?” “Take my key.”

I had hoped to be in bed by 10 for a full 8 hours. The lost hour means it is 11 now. But when I finish writing this sentence, it is off to the land of nod. Then home on Thursday, after an early morning walk on the beach.