Los Angeles, CA 2018 - Day 3

There were zero plans for our third and final day in Los Angeles. All we knew is that we had to be at the airport at 5 pm, and since Ali and Jackson had accomplished everything they came to do, they let me plan the day. After checking out of our hotel, we headed toward Santa Monica to spend the day near the ocean.

A delighted Ali

We stopped on Melrose for breakfast at The Hart and The Hunter, a hip restaurant where hipsters serve hip items like “clover juice” and “onion jam.” We sat on the patio and a hip, beautiful boy waited on us (his dad is European—he told us twice). We ordered our meal and Ali was the last to get her breakfast. She had ordered the butter biscuits with pimento cheese spread, cinnamon honey butter, and sweet potato jam. The waiter told her that because they make the biscuits to order, she’ll have a long wait and he apologized. Jackson and I were nearly done with our breakfast by the time Ali’s came. As she ate, she told us that she had never tasted something so delicious. 

After breakfast, I drove to Beverly Hills because I thought the kids would want to go to Rodeo Drive and gawk at the 1%, much like we stare at caged animals at the zoo. I told them we could browse the shamefully expensive stores and Jackson said, “If I go there, I’ll probably end up with a modeling job. The salesman will be like, ‘Can I hel... wait a minute...’ and he’ll circle me holding his chin saying, 'strong jaw...supple hips,' while he takes my measurements.”

Low self-esteem is not a problem Jackson wrestles with.

I don’t know if Ali and Jackson have ever been less interested in something as they were in Beverly Hills. I drove through the neighborhoods because I love looking at the enormous and extravagant homes and making up stories about the people who live in them. Ali said, “I’m just on the hunt for the star of the critically-acclaimed saga Beverly Hills Chihuahua. Which house does he live in?” I turned down a random street and said, “I wonder where this road leads?” to which Jackson muttered, “To a smooth-driving school, I hope.” I pulled over and told the kids we were putting the top down. Four minutes later, they yelled at me to pull over and put the top back up. I don’t think we’re convertible people.

We left Beverly Hills and drove to Santa Monica where we parked in one of its 10 massive parking structures. Walking to the Santa Monica pier, I was startled by the number of homeless people. Some of them appeared to be tanning, some appeared to be dead. One woman had a blown-up rubber glove half filled with water that she tossed in the air and giggled when she caught it. I felt all the emotions within 3 seconds that ranged from exasperation to empathy to concern about our country’s huge number of homeless people. But I quickly shoved those thoughts out of my mind because funnel cake!

My lifeguard

The official end of Route 66

The Santa Monica pier is basically a gross carnival on pilings. Ali designated it “The B & I of beaches” and that will only make sense to you if you’ve been to the equally grimy public marketplace in Tacoma. We spent our time on the pier avoiding the fake monk clad in an orange robe, and the half-naked musical act whose main talent appeared to be clapping. 

We left the pier and walked through downtown while dodging more homeless people as we made our way to the Third Street Promenade. Featuring 3 blocks of open-air shopping, dining, and entertainment, with no cars allowed (and apparently no homeless people either), the promenade was a beautiful place to wander. But since we aren’t big shoppers, we only made it through 2 of the 3 blocks before getting bored. The kids pointed out Carlo’s Bake Shop, so we stopped in for pastries. 

Carlo's Bake Shop, Santa Monica - 2018

Carlo's Bake Shop, Hoboken - 2012

My view of the kids for most of this trip

Keeping a close eye on the time, I knew we had to move on, so we left Santa Monica and drove to Marina Del Rey for lunch. We ate at Killer Café which just so happens to be where Jerry Seinfeld and Jim Carrey filmed an episode of Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee. Munching on caprese salad, I listened as Jackson lectured Ali and me about how we reacted to Conan’s jokes at last night’s screening. We clapped too much when we should have just laughed. He said it was annoying.

“Is there anything else I can work on Jackson?” I asked him.

You need stop looking at me. You’re always staring  at me out of the corner of your eye.”

This is a fun age.

When Jackson has kids of his own and he can’t stop staring at them because he loves them so much, I know he’ll finally get it. Until then, I’m just the most annoying person in the world to him. On our way out of the restaurant, I gave Jackson the keys and told him he could go get the car because I needed to use the restroom. How annoying is that?!

Our final stop was Venice Beach. We walked the boardwalk visiting the street artists and looking for something to bring home, but everything was so incredibly weird. Homeless people begged for money, some of them performed, and one dread-locked man asked me, “Do you celebrate 4:20?” We didn’t make it all the way to Muscle Beach and I was perfectly fine with that.

Checking Google Maps, I figured we should head to the airport so we could be there by 5:00. We pulled into the Budget rental return at 4:59 and I was filled with as much triumph and self-satisfaction as I imagine Olympic athletes feel when they win a gold medal. I love being on time. The kids weren’t as awestruck by my achievement as I was, so I texted Chad because I knew he’d understand.

“We needed to be at the car rental place at 5:00. Pulled into our spot at 4:59,” I bragged.

“Of course you did. So responsible,” came his digital pat on the head.

We boarded our plane and immediately another passenger asked Ali about her Conan Haiti t-shirt, and they bonded over their fondness for Conan. A two-year-old boy kicked the back of my seat for most of the ride home, but, oddly, I didn’t mind. I watched his poor parents try to re-direct him, and his mother just smiled and shrugged at me helplessly. I remembered Chad and I flying with our kids when they were little, training them to be well-behaved travelers. I looked over at my now grown kids and felt so proud of how mature and cultured they’ve become, when suddenly, Jackson grabbed his air sick bag and pretended to throw up for 15 minutes, making Ali laugh so hard she could barely breathe, and causing other passengers to glance over with nervous expressions. I just smiled and shrugged at them helplessly.

- Rachel