Update from Room 811

LA, if not exactly our "lady" (in the words of Randy Newman), is certainly proving to be quite friendly. Of course, almost anything is appetizing next to Las Vegas, where one can become destitute AND die of heat stroke in the same five minutes. It was 113 there when we left, and I was still glad to go. Happy the Honda made it through the Mojave Desert without a hiccup (I bought "spare in a can" just in case), and we arrived in LA Wednesday exuding an almost-hysterical buoyancy. Kate sang a song of victory on the beach in Santa Monica, something I captured on tape. (Viewings are $5 each, $20 for relatives.)

The good: After much hoofing/driving, Kate and I actually applied for an apartment today, a cute little number in Santa Monica so close to the ocean I can practically pee into it from the balcony. (Not that I would.) We are sacrificing lambs--and, as I originally typed, lamps--to the Gods of Real Estate, in the hopes of getting it. Wish us luck.

The bad: so we checked into the Sofitel Beverly Hills on Wednesday, one of our favorite hotels. Great location, decent decor, excellent food, nice staff, high percentage of amusing accents. Within our first 24 hours, the internet in our room goes down. Under normal circumstances, this would not be a concern; but in the midst of a 21st Century apartment blitzkrieg, no internet is a serious problem. I won't go into details, so as not to trigger post-traumatic stress flashbacks in my lovely bride, but it was an experience none of us is likely to forget (and I include the staff of the Sofitel in this, too).

The ugly: Las Vegas. This from an email written the evening of our stay: "Las Vegas is incredibly repellent--I just walked the casino floor and everybody seemed utterly miserable. There were none of the sounds people make when they're having fun; just a blizzard of computer-generated noise. Even a couple who had apparently won $250 seemed subdued. Big money is idolized and pursued with a zombie-like doggedness, while little money is disdained--as if the two didn't have anything to do with each other! I played a dollar each at three or four slot machines, didn't see the point of it, and walked back upstairs. Vegas is calibrated to entice the desperate and/or bored, and after spending the last two days surrounded by massive nature (the Rockies, Monument Valley, the Grand Canyon, memories of my brother Jack), it comes off as incredibly tawdry, decadent without any beauty or refinement. The whole joint looks like a mobster's idea of the good life, which is exactly what Vegas is."

On to happier thoughts: Our time in LA has been lovely, if fantastically busy and physically quite draining (bedtime is 10pm, no kidding). Having explored NYC and Chicago, it's excellent to be investigating the third distinct flavor of big-city life, American-style. We're flying out late tomorrow night, back to Chicago and our empty apartment, filled with dust-kittens, presentation copies of Barry Trotter, and three very pissed-off cats. If we meant to see you while in LA, apologies--the apartment search became all-consuming, as such things tend to do. And anyway, we will see you when we land for good. Either in this Santa Monica apartment, or a refrigerator box positioned as close to USC as the campus cops will allow.

Now, I must go practice pronoucing "La Cienega"...and pump Kate for juicy details from HP6. (I finagled one out of the local Borders--anybody read it yet?)