The LA experience of my 40’s is radically different than that in my late 20’s. Before kids, my brother had recently moved out here. I traveled out here once or twice a month to work on a recent acquisition, and decided it was more fun to stay for the weekend and hang out with him than to fly home late on a Friday.
And ample fun was had. WIth the money I saved with my Saturday stay over, I could afford to stay at cool hotels. And back in the day, my hotel of choice was the Mondrian. It was right on Sunset Strip, with the coolest bar in town attached. The Sky Bar was the place to see and be seen, with couches, cocktails and more eye candy than the eye should be allowed to see.
Because I stayed there, I was always able to get into the bar, and get my guests in as well. That was helpful, because I always had my brother and his roommate along for the ride, and then whoever I could rally to join us. At that point, we had quite a crew either living or traveling to the west coast often, so it wasn’t tough.
One night, the gang gathered early. Like 9 pm early. It was an interesting mix of people. Me, my brother, his friend. Then add my CEO, his girlfriend (an actress), and another senior member from our team. Probably some others but I can’t remember. And I can’t remember because the night became blurry really quickly.
We sat down at a table, and I remember taking a long time for service. I had ordered my drink from the bar while we had waited. And when we sat down, we took notice of the crowd beginning to appear. Jerry Seinfeld was there. Mark Wahlberg was sitting next to us. Somebody came up and hit on the CEO’s girlfriend because they recognized her from TV. It was surreal and entertaining.
And then the last thing I remember, I was in Mark’s face, rambling on about people we know in common from Boston. Apparently he wasn’t amused. And then my world went black. The next morning I awoke sick as a dog in my bed, the phone ringing with my husband asking how my night had been. I said, “I am naked in bed and I have no idea how I got here…I will call you back!” In retrospect, it would have been awful to be on the receiving end of that call. I immediately called my brother for answers. The short answer was apparently I had been ruffied. We imagine it happened when I was standing at the bar getting my drink. By 9:15, my night was over after a few sips of a drink. My brother and his roommate literally had to carry me up to my room. Because I was wearing black leather pants, they thought I shouldn’t sleep in them. They were trying to be thoughtful. I still give him a hard time about this, but it’s funny now.
Two other things happened that night I find rather curious. For one, why in the hell would my brother leave me alone? If they knew I was in a state to be carried to my room - violently ill and incoherent - I am floored that he would leave me by myself. I’ll chalk that up to him being a 25 year old guy.
The other thing is an insane incident the people in my group saw take place with Mark W. in the bathroom later on in the evening. I actually can’t write about it, because it is completely inappropriate and I would imagine could get me sued should it ever be seen by him. But having the story validated in graphic detail by all three guys individually, I am left with saying “only in LA.” To this day, I cannot look at the guy on film without thinking about it. (and if you really care to know, ask me offline some day)
I love LA to visit. I’m sitting in our office here right now, getting ready to pack up and head home on yet another red-eye. My crazy nights spent at the Viper Room and the Sky Bar are behind me, and I spend more time sleeping on planes now than in cool hotels so I can get home to my kids earlier. But I still love the laid back vibe of this city. I can understand why my brother remained out here after attending grad school.
But, damn, I’ve been really careful about where I put my glass down ever since that night.
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