"Los Angeles" a Los Angeles Travel Page by SFHulaGIrl

Los Angeles… Where do I begin? Everyone loves to hate L.A., but you know what? I LOVE L.A. and I don't care who knows it! I lived there for a little more than 15 years, from the early 80's into the 90's, and my life was full in many ways. So bash L.A. all you want 'cause I'm not listening!

The memories of ... laser shows at the Griffith Observatory, drinks at Yamashiro, Sunday brunch at Simply Blues, dancing at the Red Onion on Wilshire Boulevard, drinking at Nicky Blair's and Le Dome, group outings to Catalina Island, the interactive play "Tamara," pedal boats at Lake Castaic, Pavarotti at the Hollywood Bowl, listening to Jed the Fish on KROQ, hiking at Angeles National Forest, dancing in the aisles at Larry Parker's Beverly Hills Diner, nursing hangovers at Snow White's on Hollywood Blvd., drinks & dessert at Bistango, motorcycle riding along Mulholland Drive… were some of the best.

When my job offered to relocate me to San Francisco (where I always THOUGHT I wanted to live), I jumped at the chance. I was hoping to start fresh with more motivation and make new friends. The days leading up to the move were a flurry of packing, finding a new home for my beloved Chow, Anela (a.k.a. Pooh Bear, Monster-osity, Anela Bella), saying goodbye to friends, and trying to smooth things over with my then-boyfriend. We partyed so hard that final Saturday in L.A. I had a suite at Le Parc hotel in West Hollywood and invited people who invited more people and on and on it went. The front desk kept calling and saying that "so and so" was here to see me. I'd have no idea who they were, but had them sent up anyway! On my last day in L.A., my boyfriend asked me what I wanted to do. I wanted to go to the beach, which was no big surprise. We went to Santa Monica Beach and Venice Beach, got tattoos (something we'd always talked about and finally did that day), and had a late lunch along the Third Street Promenade. When we arrived at the airport, I thought I was fine. Then I looked out the window and it hit me. I'm really leaving. I'm leaving this huge city that's been my home for so long. I'm sitting in this airport where I've flown in and out of too many times to count. I felt a pain in my heart and I started to cry; not just softly, but hard enough that I could barely breathe. I felt I was making a mistake, but it was too late to change it. He was so sad, too. He tried to comfort me, but it was little use. I cried as I boarded the plane, during the entire flight to San Francisco, and all the way to the hotel. Was it worth it? Definitely not.