I decided I was gonna go to church on day two as it was a Sunday. Also would be good to meet some locals who weren't as crazy as the people chilling on Venice Beach. I'd bumped into some missionaries the day before and they'd kindly given my an address and times.
I googled that bad boy and got the bus to the chapel. I also googled all the bus routes for the day and saved pictures of all the maps I would need onto my iPod. Who needs Lonely Planet when they got an iPod and the internet?
Church was nice. It was a family ward in a student area so no one really my age (and the ones who were had babies). But I got three dinner invites for that night and a lovely lady named Miriam offered me a ride to the airport the next day which I eagerly accepted. I love how welcoming the members are and how eager they are to help out a lonely traveller. It makes me happy. I felt bad declining but I had big plans to see as much of LA as I could that day.
From church I jumped on the bus and headed to the Los Angeles LDS temple. I probably spent about an hour there walking around the grounds and in the visitor's center. From there I got another bus all through Beverley Hills before stopping off for a late lunch at In-N-Out Burger on Sunset Blvd. Just had to see what all the fuss was about.
The place was packed and everyone was stood around waiting for their food. There was this homeless guy there who resembled Tarzan in his attire and hair style who was pretty intimidating and was shouting at people and being rather threatening. I say he was homeless but he could quite possibly have a home and just choose to dress like he doesn't have access to laundry/shoes. He was also missing a hand and some teeth. Either way, his low slung unbuttoned jeans and no underwear were a bad combo and enough to put me off my food. I spent the whole time waiting for my food in fear that the man would start on me. You probably think it's ridiculous that I get worried about stuff like that. Don't worry, I think I'm ridiculous too but if there's one thing I truly fear it's confrontation (yep, a therapist would have a field day with me). If I hadn't have already paid I probably would have walked out. My food was finally ready and I went on a hunt for a seat. Ended up sitting with two randoms who were on vacation from some place in America that I've forgotten all about.
The food was alright.
Made it to Hollywood Blvd by 4pm and it was already getting dark. Again I had forgotten that it was winter and that it gets dark early on. But I guess part of the allure of Hollywood is the tacky lights. Hollywood really is a hotbed for tourists. Myself included obviously.
At Gaurman's Chinese Theatre I joined the hoards to take a look at the hand and feet imprints of some of Hollywood's greatest actors and actresses. And Kristen Stewart. I would have tried to get the cliche photograph of me comparing my hand size to Audrey Hepburn's or Marilyn Monroe's but I was afraid if I got down I would have a similar fate to that of Mufasa. In that I would be crushed to death under a stampede of tourists with cameras. That or I would get even more self-conscious about how stumpty my fingers are. I was clearly never destined to be a concert pianist (or any type of musician for that matter.) I want elegant hands. Curse you genes.
The Hollywood malls kind of reminded me of Vegas and the strip with the over the top ostentatious decor. Yep, Vegas or the Trafford Centre - pick your reference point. Despite all of this, I still think it's pretty cool to be able to say that I've been to Hollywood (very briefly). I was obviously severely disappointed by the lack of celebrities.
Once I'd had enough of the tourists and the free stuff Hollywood had to offer I got on the metro into downtown LA. Yup. Big mistake. From the hustle and bustle of Hollywood to the frighteningly deserted streets of LA. For those of you who know LA, I was by City Hall. As soon as I got out of the metro station I decided I was probably best getting straight onto a bus to take me back to Venice.
Only problem was that I was lost. I knew exactly where I was on the map but the bus stop wasn't there. I keep walking around, coming across the odd person. Each time plotting my escape route as the person approaches. Yes, I am paranoid. I take my personal safety pretty seriously. You should too. Anyway I wasn't too worried, there were so many police men cruising around in their cars. I wasn't sure I should have been worried or comforted by the heavy presence of the police. Either those streets were pretty shady or the LAPD were based near by. On closer inspection of the map I discovered it was the latter. Oh and I was looking at the map the wrong way. Upon discovery I found the bus stop pretty easily, just in time for the bus.
10 minutes into the journey is when it happened.
Stevie Wonder-look-a-like is staring at me. At least I think so, he's got sunglasses on and it's dark outside so who knows. There's that awkward moment where I made eye-contact with this stranger so I do my awkward smile. You know the "I'm-well-aware-we-just-made-eye-contact-stranger-lets-smile-at-each-other-and-move-on-with-our-lives" smile. My mum likes to accompany this smile with a life story but we'll save that for another day.
Stevie is saying something but I can't hear. I thinking it's just friendly banter and maybe he's like my mum and I should never have smiled at him. I was going to be stuck listening to this guys life story the rest of the way to Venice.
"Pardon?" I say.
"I'm not a dog."
"OK." I decide that I was wrong about the life story.
He was getting angry "I'm not a dog."
"I never said you were a dog" I say. What I'm thinking is "Oh crap. That sounded a bit defensive."
"You can't just shoot me like I'm a dog. You can't do it. You can't shoot me, it's not right. Looking at me like that. Like I'm a dog you can't shoot me"
I decide to ignore Stevie and just stare out the window.
He continues rambling about how he's not a dog and about how us women are all the same. No idea what he's going on about. When suddenly he asks me. "How would you like it if I shoot you?"
I'm still staring out of the window, I haven't moved my head. I'm doing my best not to show any emotion on my face. My thoughts have moved on from 'oh crap'.
"Yeah. You wouldn't like that would you? Well, I'm gonna shoot you. I'm gonna get someone to shoot you. Just you watch."
He doesn't stop. He's going on and on about how he's going to shoot me. I'm holding back tears. I'm planning my escape. I know I have at least another half hour on the bus. He gets up and sits a couple of rows behind me. At least now I don't need to work so hard at avoiding eye contact. He continues on his rant about how he wants me dead.
I'm wondering at what point someone on the bus is gonna say something. At what point the bus driver is gonna kick this guy off the bus. Nope. None of that happens. I don't think I've ever said as many prayers in my whole life as I did in that half an hour. And it was the longest bus journey of my life.
Now, I'm fully aware the guy probably didn't have a gun. But the thought was at the back of my mind that this was America, the place where average Joe probably had access to a gun.
Finally we make it to my stop. I pull the bell and stand. As the doors open I see Stevie stand too. I run to get off the bus at the front, run straight into the road like a headless chicken. As I'm running away I can hear Stevie shouting after me. What he was saying I do not know. Funnily enough, I didn't stop to ask him, I just kept running and didn't stop until I was safely locked in my hostel room. Then I break down into tears and let all the pent up fear come out.
Once I've managed to calm myself down I go on the hunt for a pay phone (to organise my ride to the airport the next day - my phone wasn't working) and food. I asked the girl at reception and she says I can use her phone. Once I'm off the phone the girl asks if I'm ok. I start crying because, well that's what I do. Don't show me kindness when I'm upset, you will get tears. I tell her the whole story and she's very sympathetic. She gives me some amazing tips for a cheap as dinner from Mao's Kitchen across the road.
Off I go to get some take out. I'm waiting for my food when a girl walks in, turns to me and says "Are you in lin- heyyyyyy!". It's the Spanx sales girl from Bloomys. We get talking again. I tell her my terrible tale. She offers me a hug. She offers to sit and eat dinner with me. People are so nice. Thank you Cindy.
I make the most of the next day. With my last dollars I hire a beach cruiser. It's a bike without breaks. I didn't know this at the time of rental. I cycle the whole length of Venice beach down to Santa Monica and back. And then all the way down Venice Beach Pier. The weather is beautiful. The music is good. I'm pretty sure I had a smile on my face the whole time. Perfect morning. Back at the hostel I'm waiting Miriam (my ride) to arrive. 10 minutes late. No worries. Half an hour late. Check-in closes in 40 minutes. Panic. She's not answering. I don't think I have enough money for a taxi to get me there. Panic is probably an understatement. I finally get through to her. She'd just pulled up outside, she'd been held up. Panic over. I get there 10 minutes before check-in closes. I have a mini break down when 3 people cut in front of me. It was a 'Did I say that out loud? Ooops' moment. I ask a passing Air NZ employee if I need to panic that check-in is supposed to close in 3 mins. She assures me everything is fine and I'm calm again.
From there everything goes swimmingly. Well besides the two hours of straight turbulence. I make it to London Heathrow. Make a right sight of myself by napping in the middle of Terminal 1 for two hours. Yeah, I was that person sprawled over the seats, most likely catching flies. And knowing my luck probably snoring and drooling.
It was all worth it though when I walk through arrivals at Manchester Airport to be greeted my lovely lovely family.
