Lately I've been thinking a lot about lasts - my last days with friends in LA, my last meal at a certain restaurant, my last visit to favorite places - and it's a little depressing! Here's the story about my first trip to LA - to perk things up a bit.
I had never been to LA when I was applied for a job with the Service Employees International Union (SEIU) in 2004. I knew very little about the city but I needed a change and I was up for a new adventure. I knew only one person here, Deirdre, a friend from college who I hadn't seen in five years. I flew to LA for a final interview and was spending just three days here. Three days to go to the interview, find a place to live and decide if I wanted to move to LA.
I arrived at LAX around lunch time on Easter Sunday, rented a car and braved the infamous LA freeways. I liked what I saw, beaches, mountains, palm trees - it kind of reminded me of Merida, Venezuela, a city that I lived in a few years earlier. It was nothing like the "Newark with palm trees" my father remembered from his only visit in the 1980's. I made it to Marina del Rey, had lunch at a trendy cafe on the beach, feeling very sure that this was the place for me.
I headed to the apartment that I found online - a beautiful place near the beach, with a pool, gym, and, based on the pictures in their ad, blond-haired, blue-eyed surfer dudes hanging out in their board shorts. I was assured that the staff would be working on Easter Sunday and were happy to show me around the complex. I pulled in to parking lot, made my way to the manager's office, only to find a handwritten sign taped to the door "Closed for Easter". Really?!
I called Deirdre, stressed and teary, to tell her that I was standing in the parking lot of my dream home and it was closed. Where was I going to live? What was I going to do? "Come to my place," she says, "I have leftovers from Easter brunch. And you should check out the apartment next door to me, the girl just moved out. Oh, and I'm heading to Neve Campbell's house in the Hollywood Hills later. You should come along!" Really?! Easter brunch leftovers, an apartment next door to my only LA friend, and a chance to hang out at a real actor's house in Hollywood - things were definitely looking up!
A few years later I happened to be in Marina del Rey, right by the apartment I thought was my dream home. Sure, it was beautiful and close to the beach but, what a different LA experience I would have had if that manager's office had been open. I don't think I would have had such a wonderful time in LA, especially in my first couple of years, if it wasn't for Deirdre taking me under her wing and introducing me to so many fabulous people and places. It's funny how things work out.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Falcon, Farewell
Years ago, I was looking for a part time job to make some extra cash. My friend Deirdre was working at the Falcon Theatre and they were looking for a house manager. I was soon hired and spent many evenings and weekends in the Falcon lobby, selling $1 candies, chatting with the box office crew, Gordon, Amanda and Scott, and getting to know the ushers and patrons. Last night I worked my final opening night party and brought my 5 year stint as a Falcon employee to a close.
Every few months, a new show opens at the Falcon and I would join Sherry and Brigitta, and, more recently Chelsea and Joe, to work the opening night party. We are the caterers, bartenders, photographers and clean-up crew for the night. Mix a little wine and cheese with Falcon patrons and you have a fun (and exhausting) experience. I start my evening defrosting shrimp and skillfully arranging them in dazzling displays. Sherry's secret recipe bbq meatballs are always a big hit. (I now know the secret recipe, but I'm not telling!) Pair those meatballs with brie cheese, put them on some mini Hawaiian sweet rolls - amazing!
Once the party gets started, we hang out behind the bar, pouring drinks and people watching. There are always some interesting characters - like the reviewer who hoards shrimp in his jacket pockets. Soon the meatball pan is empty, the champagne has run dry and the crowd thins out. But, the night's not over for us yet. Like zombies we start the clean up. Half-eaten shrimp and broken crackers get dumped in the trash. As the clock ticks past midnight, we're doing dishes in the slop sink. Inevitably, stories about the Falcon ghost come up while we're working backstage in the empty theatre. Unexplained sounds of tap dancers and sightings of ghostly figures late at night make us wash those dishes a little faster.
Last night I was looking at posters of all the shows I worked through the years, remembering the actors I got to meet. Everyone from Tony Danza to Joe McIntyre (I got him soup from Bob's Big Boy), Sally Struthers, Joe Mantegna, Yeardly Smith (the voice of Lisa Simpson), Hector Elizando, Zac Ephron and, of course, the Troubies. One of my favorite star encounters was when Slash from Guns and Roses came to see a show with his family. He asked me to watch his son for a minute while he ran out to the car to get the diaper bag!
When I think of the Falcon, the theatre's owner, Garry Marshall, creator of classic t.v. series like "Happy Days" and "Laverne and Shirley", director of some of my favorite movies including "Pretty Woman", comes to mind. I picture Garry coming in on Sunday afternoons after a softball game, still in his uniform, looking like a fun-loving grandpa. He would ask for Hershey bar, pay full price for his candy ( $1 as opposed to the employee price of 50 cents), and head in the theatre to watch the show. It makes me smile just remembering those moments. What a great opportunity it has been to be part of the Falcon family but now it's time to bid the Falcon farewell.
Every few months, a new show opens at the Falcon and I would join Sherry and Brigitta, and, more recently Chelsea and Joe, to work the opening night party. We are the caterers, bartenders, photographers and clean-up crew for the night. Mix a little wine and cheese with Falcon patrons and you have a fun (and exhausting) experience. I start my evening defrosting shrimp and skillfully arranging them in dazzling displays. Sherry's secret recipe bbq meatballs are always a big hit. (I now know the secret recipe, but I'm not telling!) Pair those meatballs with brie cheese, put them on some mini Hawaiian sweet rolls - amazing!
Once the party gets started, we hang out behind the bar, pouring drinks and people watching. There are always some interesting characters - like the reviewer who hoards shrimp in his jacket pockets. Soon the meatball pan is empty, the champagne has run dry and the crowd thins out. But, the night's not over for us yet. Like zombies we start the clean up. Half-eaten shrimp and broken crackers get dumped in the trash. As the clock ticks past midnight, we're doing dishes in the slop sink. Inevitably, stories about the Falcon ghost come up while we're working backstage in the empty theatre. Unexplained sounds of tap dancers and sightings of ghostly figures late at night make us wash those dishes a little faster.
Last night I was looking at posters of all the shows I worked through the years, remembering the actors I got to meet. Everyone from Tony Danza to Joe McIntyre (I got him soup from Bob's Big Boy), Sally Struthers, Joe Mantegna, Yeardly Smith (the voice of Lisa Simpson), Hector Elizando, Zac Ephron and, of course, the Troubies. One of my favorite star encounters was when Slash from Guns and Roses came to see a show with his family. He asked me to watch his son for a minute while he ran out to the car to get the diaper bag!
When I think of the Falcon, the theatre's owner, Garry Marshall, creator of classic t.v. series like "Happy Days" and "Laverne and Shirley", director of some of my favorite movies including "Pretty Woman", comes to mind. I picture Garry coming in on Sunday afternoons after a softball game, still in his uniform, looking like a fun-loving grandpa. He would ask for Hershey bar, pay full price for his candy ( $1 as opposed to the employee price of 50 cents), and head in the theatre to watch the show. It makes me smile just remembering those moments. What a great opportunity it has been to be part of the Falcon family but now it's time to bid the Falcon farewell.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
A girl cannot survive on pork roll alone
Emilie grew up in L.A. and has fond memories of entering the dark wood-paneled dining room, sinking in to the red leather booth, anxiously awaiting dinner with her family. I had never been there and thoroughly enjoyed my first, and possibly only, trip to the Smokehouse.
My visit to the Smokehouse got me thinking about other classic L.A. eateries. I've been to some - Pink's, the Pantry, Musso & Frank's, Canter's deli. And I plan to visit others, like Roscoe's Chicken & Waffles and Clifton's cafeteria, before I leave L.A. I only have 26 days left - that's 78 meals, plus snacks and desserts. Where else should I eat? What are some of your classic L.A. restaurants? A girl cannot survive on pork roll alone!
Saturday, March 19, 2011
30 Day Notice
I gave Sargiss, my landlord, my 30 day notice today. I've been living in this same apartment for 7 years, the entire time I have lived in L.A., and now I have just 30 days left. This is the longest I have lived in one place since my childhood. I absolutely love this place - great space, location, neighbors. I can't believe my days here are numbered!
It's a weird feeling. Knowing that life is changing but still being in your routine. Waking up in the morning and looking out my bedroom window seeing palm trees, the Griffith Park observatory and the lemon tree. Coming home every day, pulling in the driveway, trying to not hit the side of the house with the car. Hearing Sasquatch, the homeless dude across the street, go on his senseless screaming rants. Seeing grandma, the world's best security guard, peek through the blinds, watching everyone coming and going. Smelling the bbq being fired up in the back, lamb sizzling, neighbors downing vodka and signing in Armenian. Spending hours in Emilie's place, late-night discussions fueled by 2 buck chuck.
I feel like I should be out and about in LA, doing all sorts of fabulous LA-type things, living up my final days here. Instead, I'm on the couch, wrapped in my snuggie, clearing out the DVR and enjoying day number 30 doing nothing in particular. It seems fitting to spend as much time as I can enjoying my little corner of the world on Avocado St.
It's a weird feeling. Knowing that life is changing but still being in your routine. Waking up in the morning and looking out my bedroom window seeing palm trees, the Griffith Park observatory and the lemon tree. Coming home every day, pulling in the driveway, trying to not hit the side of the house with the car. Hearing Sasquatch, the homeless dude across the street, go on his senseless screaming rants. Seeing grandma, the world's best security guard, peek through the blinds, watching everyone coming and going. Smelling the bbq being fired up in the back, lamb sizzling, neighbors downing vodka and signing in Armenian. Spending hours in Emilie's place, late-night discussions fueled by 2 buck chuck.
I feel like I should be out and about in LA, doing all sorts of fabulous LA-type things, living up my final days here. Instead, I'm on the couch, wrapped in my snuggie, clearing out the DVR and enjoying day number 30 doing nothing in particular. It seems fitting to spend as much time as I can enjoying my little corner of the world on Avocado St.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Pork Roll Hits the Road
In my 7 years in LA, pork roll was the one east coast food that I missed more than anything. Its tasty, juicy, porkiness was unmatched by any other meat product. It's indescribable - kind of like Canadian bacon, with a hint of salami and a whole lot of yum! Put it on a hard roll with a fried egg, cheese, salt, pepper and ketchup - heaven for breakfast!
Every trip back to Jersey, I would pack pounds of pork roll in my carry-on bag making for very interesting conversations with airport security guards. As my bag goes through the X-ray machine there would be a slight hesitation, the conveyor belt would back-up, bringing the bag back through the scanner, then the puzzled looks and a "miss, we need to go through your bag." They would open the bag to find a frozen log of pork product. "It's pork roll," I say "they don't sell it in L.A." Knowingly nodding, the guard places the pork roll back in my bag. "You don't know how many people come through here with that in their bags everyday." "I can only imagine!", I say while repacking my bag and heading to catch my flight.
Soon, I will be leaving the pork-roll-less land of Los Angeles and returning to the motherland of New Jersey. My brother Anthony and his friend Pat will also proudly represent the Traveling Team Pork Roll. Join us on a memorable journey pork-rolling from coast to coast!
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