Despite what Missing Persons once claimed, people do walk in L.A., they just prefer driving. Or need to. That place sprawls.
Our event was all day at the humongous L.A. Convention Center, located right next door to the Staples Center, home of the Lakers. For a moment, I worked with a temp named Stephanie at our accreditation table which is where I learned that I’ve never met anyone who talked as fast as she did, and that she’s an actor who played one of those perky gameshow contestants in a recent Orbitz commercial.
Midway through, there was a monsoon-like storm featuring winds that bent the palm trees and rain that lashed the glass-paned atrium of the center. Twenty minutes later, it stopped. The sun and giant fairytale clouds returned and after another hour, the pavement was as dry as Clint Eastwood’s face. It was as if nothing had happened.
To knock back after an excruciating day, our staff got ripped at the post-event cocktail party then met at a steakhouse for staggeringly large slabs of grilled cow and more drinks. Then, in the coup de grace of any stereotypical business trip, we descended on the hotel bar for yet more drinks. Lots of letting down of guards, general sailor talk and brutal slagging and gossip regarding various people conveniently not present to defend themselves or file suit.