Having just gotten back from a rather interesting and strange experience,
at least for a good ol' Texan boy like myself, I thought I'd do a little write
up for Sheryl. My Dad is good friends with Jay Leno, having common interests in
restoring old motorcycles. About 2 weeks ago my Dad got a call from him inviting
himself and someone else up to see the show, him, and his fables garage full of
exotic motorcycles and cars. For some strange reason he asked me to accompany
him, which of course I jumped at the chance.
Leaving at 8 on a Thursday morning (groan), we flew through some connecting
cities on our way to LA. Along the way I found a small group of die hard
wrestling fans, just like myself. We sat together near the back of the plane,
drank beer, and had a damn good time while my Dad was counting sheep up at the
front next some old lady with a small lapdog with her (I'll get to this later).
About 3/4ths of the way through the flight, I decided I needed to go to the
bathroom, so I get up and headed to the front of the plane, for the other
bathroom, with the one next to us having a 3 person line to it. Halfway up the
aisle I'm stopped by a stewardess who tells me that despite my rather desperate
situation at this time ( 4 beers has a hell of a time with my bladder) that I
need to return to my seat because in about 20 minutes we're going to be landing.
Being the slightly drunken and untactful person I was at the time, I gave her
a DX-crotch chop and told her to suck it, then headed back to my seat, squirming
the rest of the flight. Surprisingly enough all I got from her was a funny look.
OK back to the lapdog...well the flight being 2 hours, one would THINK that the
lady who brought the dog along with her would take SOME kind of precautions in
case nature called for the dog, such as newspapers on her lap. Nothing. She
just left the dog sitting on her lap the whole flight, and of course, the dog
took a big crap on her lap. My Dad told me he was turning red trying not to
laugh at the lady.
Finally we land, and get our luggage, and make our way out to the shuttle
which will take us to our rental car. The first thing I notice is how cool it
is...around 75 degrees with a great breeze. Wow, I can really grow to like
this. I look over and notice a small group of what looked to be LA citizens
(I didn't go up and ask them for ID) complaining about how crappy the weather
was today. If I had had a stick or some sort of blunt object with me, I would
have given them quite a beating.
When we get back to our hotel, my Dad was feeling lazy so he gave the car
keys to the valet guy, who couldn't speak English by the way, a lesson I'd
notice on more than one occasion throughout my stay in LA. We drop in to the
hotel restaurant to get a bite to eat, and that's my first real complaint
about California . . . completely weird food selection. If it doesn't have one
of the following on it, then something is wrong: Guacamole, Pineapple, Goat
Cheese, or Tofu. Finally we get done eating, and my Dad tells me the afternoon
plans. Apparently we're supposed to drop off our stuff and then go visit with
some of his motorcycle buddies in Culver City. OK, I think . . . it shouldn't be
that bad. They'll sit around for a few minutes discussing stuff, and I'll just
stand around. Turns out we're sitting around for 3 hours . . . I was going crazy
I was so bored. When they finally decide to go get something else to eat (it
was around 6 when this happened) they tell me we're going out for this food
called Maki, a Japanese shishkabob thing which I actually liked a lot.
Surprisingly the waitress didn't speak English. While we're there, one of
my Dad's friends, who I later learn is a bigger bigot that most of the good
ol' boys I've met in Texas, decided to go on a drinking binge not unlike my
airline fiasco. What really surprised me is that my Dad still let this guy
drive us home afterwards . . . the guy was hauling ass and didn't even wear a
seatbelt. When we got back to his place, he's messing with the keychain
remote trying to get it to lock the doors, and he ends up setting off the
alarm and opening the trunk. So here we are parked on the street with all
these lights and horns blaring and flashing and he starts kicking the tire
to get it to go off. Eventually we shut it off, leave him at home, and go
back to the hotel to hang around and finally go back to sleep.
Morning for me started at am the next day, with a rather loud knock from
my Dad. I totally wish he would have told me we were going to get up that
early, because even in Texas time it was only am. Finally I get dressed,
etc., and we go out to eat at a nice Jewish deli called the "Roll 'N Rye" . . .
got myself a good lox bagel, and some rye bread. My Dad lets me stop off
at the mall afterwards to get some sunglasses because I forgot mine in
Austin, so we finally get there and park, and I enter the weirdest looking
mall I've ever seen. On one side of the mall it has 3 levels, and on the
other it only has 2, and along the way there are bridges going from one
side to the other, and weird angles. OK I say, I can handle this. Finally
we track down the sunglass hut, I make my purchase, and I get the hell out
of that mall. This is where things really got messed up. We were trying to
get back to Culver City to visit my Dad's friend about the taping later
that evening, when we made a completely wrong turn, thanks to my Dad's
navigating, and ended up in Compton. Luckily we didn't get shot, and made
our way back to where we were supposed to be. We stop off, visit with this
guy, and then head up to see some sights. Along the way we get to see
Hollywood, Beverly Hills, Chinatown, and a handful of other things which
escape me at this moment.
By now, it's around 1 o'clock so, according to my father's friend
if we left now we had a chance at getting to Burbank before the big
traffic hits. OK I think, so we'll get to the place on time, then? Not
true . . . if we had left later we would have missed it by about 2 hours
I'm told, but at the time we left, we got there a whopping 1 and a half
hours early (there being Jay Leno's garage in Burbank). We bum around
the whole time, and I'm mostly drooling over his 2 Dodge Vipers and the
Lamborghini Countach, while my Dad keeps telling me about some old bikes
that did this and that 30 years ago. I was almost too concentrated on
the cars that I didn't hear them yelling at me to get in the car,
we're heading to the taping. Finally! Five of us pile into the small
rent car we have, and head off. Upon arriving, I notice several star
parking spots, most of whom I have no idea who they are, but finally I
see Jay's and Kevin Eubanks' spots. Jay had a big black Dusenberg parked
there, with a myriad of people taking pics in front of it while we walked
by towards the back entrance. We get escorted to one of the green rooms
they had, which had some food and some excellent white wine. Sitting
around, I noticed a few members of the band filter through, and I got
to see the drummer . . . she was BUFF! Finally we get the word that it's
time for us to be seated. We make our way out and into the main area,
and get seated. I ended up having to sit next to a kid with Downs
Syndrome. About 5 minutes before the show was to commence, this guy
comes out and starts making people from the audience come up and dance
for T-shirts or whatever. About 3 or 4 girls ended up doing it, and one
really old guy too. Then he starts throwing stuff out to the crowd, like
frisbees. Sure enough, he throws one to the kid next to me, but if you've
seen Baseketball, you know what happened. He got smacked right in the
face. I almost died from holding back my laughter.
OK the show starts, they go through their routines, with the band
playing through the commercial breaks. Ray Liotta and Brandy (groan)
were the guests. They come out do their thing (Brandy also "graced" us
with a song) and the show is over. After all is done, we get invited
up on the stage to get our picture taken with Jay. While we're up
there, he says the funniest and most unexpected thing to me. "I'd
really like to apologize for the crappy guests tonight." HAH! That
put a big smile on my face. Now getting back to Jay . . . he's a pretty
normal guy, about 6'2", and yes his chin is that big in real life.
Like I said, he's completely normal aside from the fact that he acts
like a 4 year old kid who needs to take a piss . . . constantly fidgeting.
He tells us to meet him back at the garage, so we make our way out
to the car, after playing rock-paper-scissors for the front seat
which I won again. When we get back to the shop, we wait around for
about 10 minutes till Jay pulls up in the Dusenberg, parks it, then
starts checking out some noise it was making. We make our way over
to the car and start shaking hands, etc. I finally get to ask him
about the wrestling gig he did back in early August, and he gives
me the little, "What should I teach you, my son?", which was pretty
damned funny. The coolest thing then happened: he took me for a ride
in his Viger GTS. Oh man, it was slick. You'd think a car that
powerful would have its ass sliding all over the place, but when he
punched it, it WENT! Of course my fitting in the car was quite an
ordeal, feeling like I was having to go to a gynecologist (excuse
my spelling if it's wrong) or something like that. When get got
back, he and my Dad talked a bit, then he gave us some autographed
pics for some of my Dad's friends and myself which was cool. After
that, we said our goodbyes, went back and had some dinner at Wendy's,
and then straight back to the hotel for sleep. That was pretty much
the gist of California from a Texan's eyes...wild, fast, and strange.
It's a place I'd love to visit, but I couldn't handle living there.
