December 23, 2001
Gene’s college friend Lily was a patient and generous hostess. She was fun and funny and, I hope, not put off by our alcohol consumption-- though we were well-behaved by our standards.
Lily and Linda picked us up from the airport Friday night. We ate at Bourbon Street Shrimp where Lily works.

We drove around trying to soak in nighttime LA views.
We searched for the famous Hollywood sign, but it was inexplicably unlit. Gene and Linda were able to make it out in the darkness.
Sunday morning, we had breakfast at a Hollywood diner and there began to understand the Los Angeleno personality and how different it is from a New Yorker’s. Lily explained that everyone was nice to strangers because they think you might “be somebody”. Gene overheard conversations about scripts at every table

Lily took us to the Getty Museum, not for the art, but for the gardens.

Dinner at The Little Door.
Surrounded by candles and a waterfall, we only lacked four masseuses, one stationed behind each of us, for perfect bliss.
We ate Dover Sole wrapped around asparagus with rice and tahini-crusted tuna. Lily had Tart Tartin for dessert. I asked the waiter to say “Tart Tartin” several times over because it sounded silly and elegant in the waiter’s staccato accent.
Gene and I indulged in expensive ports.

Somebodies.
Then, we went to the Bar Marmont. While trying to find the parking entrance, we passed a couple walking their dogs. Lily was sure the man “was somebody” by the way he turned away from us as our car passed. We u-turned and stopped him to ask where the bar entrance was. Linda later figured out the man had played James Dean in a TV movie.
Big deal.

Some real somebodies.
Christmas Eve morning we had sushi, then went to the former Grauman’s Chinese Theater and walked the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Marion Davies and the Marx Brothers' cemented hands and feet, Kodak Theater

I looked for Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell’s prints, recalling the ubiquitous photo of them with their hands in wet cement
Then, we went to a Japanese tea garden, Elixir. We relaxed with pots of tea and saw another “somebody” who we think was Adam Arkin. He jumped into our conversation to explain the meaning of “roccoca” but we weren’t sure he was right..