What I really love about LA, more than the weather, is that nobody really works a true Monday – Friday 9:00 – 5:00 job. Translation, to layman’s terms is that an average Tuesday or Sunday night for that matter can turn into the most insanely unexpected fun, yet you can still be surrounded by a flavorful group of locals.
Having enjoyed quite a few of the best margaritas and Mexican food north of the border, one Sunday afternoon with friends at Loteria Grille, I was able to quickly forget about my plans to work for a few hours in exchange for heading to the pool bar on the roof of the W Hotel.
Its amazing how a few poolside mojitos and a power nap under the sun can be just the recipe I needed to decide that girls night of catching up over dinner and wine with my dear friend Carmen should actually be more of nibbling over a few delectable courses at Katsuya while conveniently needing constant drink refills in order to chat more with the extremely hot and attentive waiter. Really, I don’t think I’ve been so “school girlishly” giddy in years. He was just a waiter, or possibly the next big up and comer in Hollywood, so I tried to justify my behavior.
Later after dinner, and drinks, we stumbled back to the W Hollywood for one of the hottest and most entertaining parties that I’ve been to in a while. This was the Sunday Jazz party at the Living Room Lounge of the W, hosted by Jin Yu. With a name like this, the party could have been a real sleeper but it was anything but that, having an eclectic crowd and the most captivating mix of jazz, burlesque and modern dance performers, all rolled into one.
From instantly meeting an Arabian prince, self titled “Prince Ali”, who introduced himself by suggesting I “take off my jacket, as he could tell I had a beautiful body beneath,” in which I was quick to respond “Whatever, are you even a real prince?” The night was full of characters.
Needless to say, I took Prince Ali’s advice and shed the blazer, after all , nobody wants to come across as “matronly” in LA, especially when wearing a fantasticly tight, Herve Leger bandage dress beneath said blazer. I would just have to count on the drinks to keep me warm on this chilly night.
I guess Prince Ali’s advice worked well, as Carmen and I decided to ditch “His Creepiness”, and move on to other pursuits, namely a handsome “George Clooney look alike” for her and a slew of Mountain Dew Tour Skaters and BMX Riders for myself.
The hours of the night slipped away between shots and conversations of travels to Australia, where I’d be heading off to in a few days. Along with numerous rounds of my signature champagne cocktail, “The Gypsy”, (strong enough to even knock these X Games athletes on their asses), my newfound friends were helping me plan out my upcoming trip, and slowly, one by one, dropping off to their rooms, while pushing me towards one sweet, blonde, native SoCal BMX rider on their tour. Myself, never being one to deny the company of a cute local guy on my travels, found this as the perfect excuse to stay up and experience the sunrise over the Hollywood Hills with the perfect companion.
Not since my college days have I had such an unexpectedly crazy Sunday afternoon turn into the wee hours of Monday morning like the blink of an eye. I think this is a habit that I may want to pick up again.