Two Trips to L.A. (Part II)

So after much deliberation, negotiation and discussion, I finally made it to L.A., on one condition, that I fly first class (twist my arm dad).  You see, even though my oncologist gave me the green light, my family was fearful that I'd contract a rare disease from the recycled air on the airplane.  Disregarding my family's concerns, last Friday, I made my second trip West this year to say goodbye to David.

Now, considering my state the last time I went out to L.A., I promised myself that this time, I would hold it together and actually cheer up my grandmother.  Learning my lesson from my last trip, instead of watching Celebrity Rehab, I watch two comedies on my way out (thank you first class), and dug deep to pull out my sunniest personality (for those of you who know me well, you know this cynical sarcastic chic has to dig pretty deep for sunny).  Also, using the tricks that I learned from Mademoiselle FACE on the day I shaved my head, upon my arrival, I spent 20 minutes meticulously applying makeup so that I would arrive at my grandmother's house looking naturally refreshed and healthy (let's just say that I have a new found respect for blush).  Finally, in order to be positive that the Big C did not cast a shadow on this trip, I booked myself a hotel so that no one would have to see me bald or popping any pills (admittedly, my grandmother initially resisted this, but in the end, I think she knew this was best for both of us).

Now, since I'm now officially a first class traveler (thanks dad), I booked myself a room at the swank new hotel, The London.  For anyone traveling to L.A., I highly recommend it.  Every room is equipped with a large seating area, balcony, table and desk, and boasts a bar with fine liquors such as Patron, Belvedere and Bombay Sapphire.  Unfortunately, even though I was treated by the staff like a first class guest, I just couldn't seem to mask my coach class etiquette.  Not only did I insist on taking my own bag up to my room (brilliant for someone who is in physical therapy and is not supposed to carry more than 10 pounds), but I also forgot to tip the valet the first time I picked up my rental car.  Now all of this I blame on my grief and preoccupation with my family, but then my lack of first classiness (yes, that's a technical term) came pouring through.  Now I only tell you this for the sake of full disclosure (and because things have gotten a little heavy lately), but you have to promise not to judge me.

So most of my trip I spent hanging out with my grandmother, listening to her muse over her life filled with memories.  Nevertheless, I managed to squeeze in a couple of dinners with some friends, since my grandmother's only desire was that I enjoy myself during my visit (I swear, those were her words).  So at her bequest, I got all dressed up to meet Lawless for dinner at AOC (great tapas restaurant with an eclectic wine list).  There I was, waiting for the valet at my hotel to pull the car around.  Now, I promise I hadn't take any pills, had anything to drink or done anything impair my judgment or ability to handle heavy machinery, and I swear, it was dark outside, so when I noticed that the car I had gotten into wasn't mine, well, I mean it could happen to anyone.  Yes, you guessed it.  I got into the wrong car.  As I turned on the ignition, I noticed that something was off.   I didn't remember that the dashboard backlight was red... wait a second, I didn't remember drinking a Diet Coke... WAIT A SECOND... I NEVER DRINK DIET COKE.  Can you imagine?  Thank God I didn't drive off.  That's all I needed.  I can imagine the headline now.  IDIOT DRIVES INTO THE SUNSET WITH STRANGER'S CAR... INCARCERATED FOR GRAND THEFT AUTO.  Well, as I got out of the car, I put on my widest smile, as I told the valet about my teeny tiny mistake.  The valet was very nice (very first class) and said, "Don't worry, you're not the first person this has happened to.... actually... I think you are."  Um... is it TMI to tell valet guys about chemobrain?  Anyway, all's well, that ends well, since amidst the confusion, I forgot to tip the valet AGAIN!  Hey, I'm coach class and proud of it!

Well, I would love to tell you that my story ends there, but the following night I truly hit the jackpot when I arrived at Foxtail (new L.A. hotspot opened by Top Chef's very own Antonia) to meet my friends Sports Diva and Cartoonist.  I swear I left my hotel thinking I looked very chic in my white Seven jeans and black and white striped top (very mod).   WHO KNEW OUR SERVER WOULD BE WEARING THE SAME SHIRT!!!  Now luckily, they didn't make me get up and start running dishes from the kitchen, but as the server smirked at me, I couldn't help but feel my first classiness slip away.

Overall, even with the little embarrassments, my second trip to L.A. was a success.  Not only did I manage to relieve some of my grandmother's anxiety related to me, but I was able to return the favor she gave to me back in March... the feeling that you're not alone and even if the worst happens you can get through it.  Suddenly you can cope.

Thanks as always for reading.

Straight from the trenches.

DT