Drinking in LA

During our arduous 12hr flight, Morty and I staved off the pains of travel by taking breaks at the back of the plane, drinking free beer and just standing around, giving our asses much needed respite. We also played some kick ass games on the inflight entertainment system; Morty fucking owned the space invaders rip off, taking out the highest score! And laughed at Virgin's lame ass humor. Not having travelled on a plane for more than 2hrs since I was 4yrs old, was proving to me that I don't want to do it very often.

Anyways, we got here (LA) and rang our hostel to organise a free shuttle ride to the joint. Win! The hostel is such a cliché; a cheap "Revenge of the Nerds" type squalor in a pretty bad neighborhood.

Morty and I went for a walk and came to the conclusion pretty quickly, that this might not be the sort of place we want to hang around. Good thing we're only here for one night. After a stop at Taco Bell for a "Quad Steak Burrito", we found ourselves walking around a corner and happening across what looked to be an Hispanic gang, all slouching around a car in a large group, slinging profanities about. It was like one of those scenes from an old western, when the stranger walks into the bar and all the badass locals hush, turn and stare down the fucker encroaching on their turf. "Don't look, eyes front!" and wait... for the bullets... or even worse, the swift shiv in the kidney for a quick and silent unsolved murder. Or they are a bunch of college students discussing their homework and we're a couple of jumpy white dudes, pissing in our pants.

On our way back to the hostel, somewhat edgy but reveling in our LA experiences, we decided to drop into the bottle-O for a forty. The place was your typical run down, gangsta strip mall, all shabby and littered with loitering hoodlums and the local sheriff car parked out front. Two large, square-jawed rednecks in uniform came strutting out after their shakedown and barreled towards their car. As we walked in, I was filled with thoughts of Friday (Chris Tucker and Ice Cube). As we got to the fridge, the power went out in the shop... I thought "shit, now we're the one's getting the shakedown, from the store clerk and friends; but they were actually apologetic and friendly. We got a couple of Bud 40's and trundled back to the hostel. We crashed out soon after, as the jet lag and the beer kicked our asses.

We woke up a couple of hours later and made our way out to the restaurant that connects the hostel. A serve of jalapeño poppers and fried chicken wings with ranch and we were pretty much full. Nevertheless, we chomped on. I had a burger and Morty was swamped with food, after asking for the daily special. He was presented with a whole loaf of bread with butter, a bowl of chicken and noodle soup, a plate of salad (lettuce covered in ranch) and a country-fried steak with a mountain of potato mash. He nearly ate it all and now I'm laughing at his evident growth and his groaning from being over full. After a couple of Bud Lights we made our way out through the bar, past a few local hicks who took a liking to Morty and thinking he looks like Mikey from Orange County Choppers. "Mikey, hey it's Mikey" they cried, laughing hysterically. "Oh no, he's getting away, he's leaving, don't leave us Mikey!" followed by more hysterical laughter. We then saw the same slack jaws chasing each other around the steaming pool, threatening to throw each other in. This place is fucking awesome!

The Repeating Epic Quad Steak Burrito.
Courtesy of Taco Bell.