Pass the Fun

Started off last night to Sunset Junction, a street fair in Hollywood where for two days various bands close down the streets and attract enormous crowds. Activities also include eating, drinking and carnival rides. We arrived much later than expected and decided we were too cheap to pay the admittance for a couple of hours to endure obnoxious, drunk crowds who'd been at it since noon. While pondering our planned outing and questioning whether to bag it or not, there was plenty of good people watching. There was the guy who tried to scalp $15 event tickets saying he'd failed to get through the gates several times. Gee, phony tickets perhaps? Did we look like we'd just gotten off the Kansas bus with the modelesque Kansas 10, LA 8 girl peddling water Melinda described as having "made it" in Hollywood?

For me, the best part of the festival was outside the barricades behind the bandstand. There was this scrawny guy - squinting for the smoke billowing into his eyes from the cigarette burning between his pursed lips & Louis Armstrong crackling on the phonograph in the background - dexterously manipulating a haggard marionette held by flimsy strings. Imagine a self-destructive bohemian French actress, punished by years of sacrificing nourishment for absinthe and cigarettes, her spirit and dignity broken by sleezy men in dowdy underground clubs promising to deliver her from sub-stardom. An artistically tortured act worn out, unfortunately, by a scant repertoire but it was worth a buck.

And so the cavalcade begins, powered by Red Bull. With so many cool and hipsty spots in Los Feliz/Silverlake to choose from you just follow the wind and winding road (and enter the ones without a queue - we're in our forties, ya know). So passing on Akbar which is a certain good time given the mass outside, we stumbled onto Tiki Ti (tea-key-tea), a teeny tiny little cabana no bigger than my living room that looks like it belongs on an island in the South Pacific. Serving up 86 tropical concoctions it's been a place to whet your whistle in LA for nearly 50 years.

Moving on to Good Luck where Damon had the good fortune to eye a Kevin Spacey look-alike looking like he's just come from the Tiki Ti donning a hideous Hawaiian shirt. Pull back the heavy velvet drape and enter what I imagine a Chinese Tea House to look like - a dark, swank, den illuminated only by red lanterns as if to conceal illicit activity (pass the opium, please). House drinks pictured and described on glossy menus giving no inkling what's in them, are named things like Hong Kong Bong, Enter the Dragon, and Fist of Fury. Comfy lounges, if you can score one, make for a good place to kick back and enjoy the eclectic music mix.

Now that it's midnight we should think about having dinner! So we take the German guy and the rest of us Heinz 57s to The Red Lion. Here you can have authentic German fare - schnitzel, bratwurst - and wash it down in the beer garden. For those who refer a more traditional experience check out the piano man on the main floor; sorry no room to polka.

Today commences with a savory English breakfast, exceptionally good after a night like last and ends in a whimsical finale. Years ago we made the acquaintance of a shop owner in El Segundo who invited us to a party. It happened to be the best party I have ever attended. After a lively evening started to wind down a few of us die hards remained. The host collects antiques and had an overflow of percussion instruments - maracas, tambourines, triangles, cow bells, etc. - and passed them out. We all sat around 'til the wee hours "jamming" having a gay ol' time. This afternoon we quite serendipitously attended a backyard BBQ there where a live, professional band entertained. Definitely more fun making your own music.