Me:For which there is no cure
CHAPTER 19
Not a Date, Part 1 of 3
I GET TOLaLaLand Tours with fifteen minutes to spare. The office is in a strip mall with a pawn shop on one side, a check cashing place on the other and Hollywood Walk of Fame stars stenciled into the sidewalk in front. Irony, thy name is Hollywood.
As soon as I walk in, a pretty but entirely too-animated young white woman holding a clipboard and wearing aLaLaLand ToursT-shirt hands me a sheet of paper. On one side is an FAQ with a prominent disclaimer reminding us that we are not guaranteed to see celebrities frolicking in their natural habitat on this tour.
X walks in ten minutes after when we said we’d meet. I think one side effect of living in the moment is that it makes you late for appointments. As usual, his dreads are up high on his head. He’s wearing skinny black jeans, a short-sleeved white button-down and blue floral canvas sneakers. I watch him move about the room and realize I’m not the only one watching him. Besides his looks, there’s something compelling about him. Maybe it’s the openness of his face? Or the way he seems so interested in the world, like right here, right now is exactly where he wants to be.
Pretty clipboard woman hands him his FAQ/disclaimer.
He flashes his absurdly beautiful smile at her.
She takes off all her clothes.
I’m kidding.
She doesn’t do that.
But she wants to.
“X,” I call out to him so she knows he’s actually meeting someone here.
Clipboard lady gets everyone’s attention and shepherds us all outside. The bus is an open-air double-decker behemoth festooned with pictures of famous landmarks and grainy photos of surprised, not-entirely-pleased-looking celebrities.
“Upper or lower deck?” X asks.
I choose upper. It’s a nice day and just overcast enough that we won’t bake in the sun.
“How many of these tours have you been on?” he asks as we climb the stairs.
“None,” I say.
“Really?”
“I’m from here,” I remind him.
“All the more reason,” he says.
The first half of the tour is, to my surprise, pretty interesting. Even though we don’t see any celebrities, our guide tells us funny stories about previous sightings. There was one famous reality TV star who they caught picking his nose when the tour bus pulled up next to his car. She doesn’t say who the star was but gives us enough clues to figure it out.
When we hit Sunset Strip, X turns to me with anare you seeing what I’m seeing?look on his face.
“What?” I ask.
“That’s the Roxy,” he says. “And Whisky a Go Go.” Both the Roxy and Whisky a Go Go are famous nightclubs. He says the names with such reverence that I can’t help feeling a little excited for him.
I look out at them, but I know that where I’m just seeing another average building, he’s seeing history.
“You haven’t gone yet?” I ask.
“Not yet,” he says. He gets out his phone and starts taking pictures. “Man, you know what kind of legends played the Roxy? Bob Marley and the Wailers. George Benson. Jane’s Addiction. The Doors were Whisky a Go Go’s house band for a while.”
I look back out at the buildings, already starting to see them differently. “So your dream is to play there?” I ask.
“I’ll get there,” he says.
