Hotel Introspections (2017)

LOS ANGELES

LA is not a city, it is a monument to the victory of expansionism over pragmatism. Through it we marched like the English Foreign Legion with sweating backs and squinting eyes; to the Observatory (epic), Hollywood (meh), Melrose (fail), culminating at the Rainbow Bar and Grill (shoddy). The public transport system has surrendered here; the place is just way too fricking big to go all out, so our attempts to catch a bus back Downtown concluded with our inaugural Uber experience. Our host, an angry young man who wanted to tell us about his divorce and how he had ‘won’ because he had custody of the kid. These unique and fascinating UberMensch/Frauleins are out there, a secret army hanging about in their cars, awaiting directions. Perhaps one day to do battle with the more visible ranks of the piss-stinking vagabonds. I assume either business model is corrupt and amoral, but I am a writer so cannot understand such things. My main observation is that it could really stiff the taxi drivers, which I find deliciously deserved; judging by the Russian who ripped us off from LAX on arrival and the bell-ends at home who drive around our town like they own both sides of the road. So back in the room, having fantasised about tomorrow’s breakfast choice at Eggslut (recommended) the (non)bed occupies my thoughts. How can they make mattresses this soft? By the second day my sciatica score has risen from a 2 to a 5. $235 per night. Presumably the hotel and mattress manufacturer are in cahoots with the chiropractors. Clever.