Hemingway does LA

Grumpy Unkie, now at the wheel, began complaining about Los Angeles traffic by the time we hit Needles, NV. The very moment we saw the downtown skyline the highway ended and we were trapped in a Range Rover/Mercedes-Benz parking lot. We pulled off onto Ventura Blvd. to look for a hotel. We found one and in doing so discovered the ghost of Ernest Hemingway.

I spotted it. Such a preposterous name. The Sportsmen’s Lodge Hotel. Opened in 1880. Every star who matters to me has stayed there. This includes Bobby Kennedy the night before he died. Nothing has changed since 1945. Sitting at the pool bar I sunk in to the mid-century world I fancy so much-- gleefully expatriated from the 21^st.

We took a tour of Bel Air. It being 4^th of July weekend the place was empty. Looking out over the valley it seemed like a thick San Francisco fog was rolling in. Oddly this fog was burnt sienna in color. Still, Los Angeles is beautiful and so many of the homes we saw were elegant. LA isn’t for me, but I can see how it would be a nice playground from the back of a Rolls.