You know what I did last weekend? I ate copious amounts of Pinkberry and had a Degrassi marathon with one of my friends. That might sound lame but for one: Degrassi is no joke, those plots tackle some seriously adult subject matter, and two: like most logical people who actually live in close proximity to Hollywood, I rarely feel the need to partake of the nightlife, especially not on a Saturday. Between the tourists, the parking situation and the general hassle, I’d almost rather watch In Time again… almost.
In any event, I’d already resolved that last night I would explore Hollywood with a smile on my face because my favorite local band, The Herbert Bail Orchestra was playing at The Bardot. The first place I tried to park must have thought I was a tourist because the valet tried to charge me 20… no sir! We are not in New York. Any Angeleno worth their salt knows not to pay more than 10, but maybe 5 if you’re patient or nothing if you’re early and you find a meter. So after locating a suitable parking lot I made my way to what I thought was The Bardot. I then proceeded to mistakenly spend 15 minutes in line for Avalon because they’re connected, but I didn’t mind the wait because I used the time to mentally lampoon the bouncer. He had platinum blond highlights in his hair and a trench coat and I’m pretty sure the look he was giving me was Blue Steel. Is this the fucking Matrix? 1999 wants its misguided fashion choices back, sir.
Once I made it to the proper destination, the lovely @WilsonsGuide and I played a couple rounds of “Vagrant or Hipster.” It really is hard to tell sometimes- what did hygiene ever do to them? I also noticed that I’d managed to find one of the few places in LA that allows smoking indoors. I mean I guess that’s cool for the smokers out there, but all I know is that I left smelling like the inside of an American Spirit. Thanks hipsters. Carcinogenic ambiance aside, Bardot is actually pretty neat (yes, I said neat) and Herbert Bail was the bees knees as usual. Also I got a free CD so I’m attempting to learn the words to Bullet as we speak.
So usually upon departing your Saturday night soiree there may be a late breakfast, a drunken hookup, or near arrest, but those things happen regularly during business hours in Hollywood, so for all intents and purposes, the exciting part of your evening has ended. I would not be so lucky. As I left Bardot I noticed to my dismay that Vine was blocked off at Hollywood and upon further investigation I found that there was quite a large bomb threat and that I would not be able to get my car because it was inside the explosive perimeter. Are you serious? I found myself with other disgruntled revelers who could also not access Selma and parts of Sunset. We were told that it might be hours before we could retrieve our cars, even though as far as I could see, nothing was actually exploding. Oh how I wished I would’ve parked in that 20 dollar lot that was less like The Hurt Locker and more like a regular parking lot with non-exploding cars in it… #losing.
I began to become acutely aware of how much my feet hurt and started the unpleasant task of rousing my friends who were drunk , asleep or both, in the hopes that someone would not only come rescue me, but bring me back to Hollywood in the morning to get my car. Somewhere in the midst of this tomfoolery an exceedingly sketchy man may or may not have attempted to grab me, but thank goodness for the tranny who picked that exact moment to compliment my shoes and scare him away! Oh, and it gets worse. A girl in a similar predicament overheard my frantic conversation and told me that if I hiked to another part of Sunset I could sneak inside the bomb perimeter and get my car, as law enforcement was allowing people to leave but not enter. She suggested we use the buddy system since she had to go the same way, so I agreed and gave myself a mental high-five for arbitrarily choosing not to drink that night. I shudder to think what would have happened had I been inebriated.
As we neared the promise land that was the lot that held my car, I realized with dismay that there was a wall between the lot I was cutting through and the one I needed to be in. If ever a stranger offers you a boost over a wall, which you may or may not be climbing to avoid police detection, that’s a pretty strong indication that your evening has gone awry... So I let a stranger help push me over a wall... with my heels and my short, short dress on. HOT. ASS. MESS. One of my friends was kind enough to point out that this sort of thing only happens to me and she was entirely correct. A STRANGER HELPED ME CLIMB OVER A WALL.! “Stranger” and “wall” and "bomb" and "threat" are words that are bad news on their own, but together… So yeah, about that Herbert Bail Orchestra…
Venue: 3 (I want to give it a 5 but it seriously smells like a gas station bathroom. They don’t even smoke inside in Europe anymore- take that shit outside!)
Alcohol Situation: N/A (I was my own designated driver, but an extremely wasted hussy fell on the floor so I’m guessing the libations were sufficient.)
Actual Beneficial Networking Achieved:3
Personal Victory/Dignity Retained: -2 (I climbed over a fucking wall in a dress. It’s like my life turned into outtakes from Bridesmaids for five minutes)
Atmosphere: #winning (Yes for music, yes for atmosphere, yes for eye candy, no for air quality)