Things to do in the valley at midnight on a Wednesday

Step one: Get in direct contact with a good adventure buddy. David, my soon-to-be-hitched (WEIRD! COOL! WEIRD!) buddy of eight years is the best for these situations. For some reason the universe has a tendency to throw fantastic little quests/adventures our way any time we're in the same 3 mile radius any later than 11pm. It's formulaic, baby. Teeny Example: We've crossed paths with the gayest human being to walk the earth (with style, pink and white three-piece suit) at a Ms. Fields in Hollywood. And that was just to START the evening.

Step two: Complain. I know it sounds counter-intuitive, as if it doesn't mesh with my general philosphy of 'feeling the vibes' or whatnot. Understand, however, that this complaining is essential in throwing the Laws of Comedy in your favor. "There's nothing to effing do at midnight in the valley!" Cue 34th annual transvestite furry parade, right up the Boulevard! How lively!

Step three: Perhaps this post's title was a misnomer...for Step Three typically involves leaving the valley.

And now TO HELL WITH STEPS, IT'S A NAZI SYSTEM PROPPED UP BY THE ESTABLISHMENT! Hell man, I've been reading Hunter S. Thompson! (true) I'm hip to counterculture! (half-true) Don't you forget it!

In any case, we get on the freeway assuming nothing about the evening. All we know is, by an unwritten rule, something has to happen. (Did I contradict myself? Beans has a good quote about this...) I suggested Citywalk at a good place to begin, as we once wandered into a BB King concert there in the wee hours and were nearly sucked into an honest-to-god fight cloud. A few minutes of freeway, a quick spin around the secret entrance, and we're inside. Were it not for the parked cars, you'd think we had hit a dead end--a snag in our journey. We begin to walk along, nearly getting flattened by two large trucks sporting massive cherry-pickers and hosing the place down with jank-water, and hit a fork in the road. Up or down? Eeny or Meeny? We choose eeny, bumble into a concert that must have ended an hour ago, double back and hit up meeny, which leads upstairs to Howl at the Moon--the place we saw BB King.

Howl at the Moon is an interesting cross-section of multiple cultures. First of all, there was US. The normies, I guess? Which is weird considering who we are; David the ThunderJew and me, who sewed goddamn fluer de lise and zippers on his blazer.
The next group is the aged rockstars, the average age being fifty-something, and the average amount of leather being excessive. These guys were still surrounded by groupies of all ages, shapes, and sizes. The skirts we short and the...amenities(?) were--as is typical to 'the club scene'--all out.
Another group were 'the fringe'. These were folks that didn't seem like they belonged there for one reason or another. They wandered in, as we did, but weren't wailing along to 'Living On A Prayer', as we OH MOST DEFINITELY were. They had an aura of discomfort and a glass fortress of half-gone drinks.
Lastly, there were the drunks. One of which had apparently appeared on Howard Stern back in the deezy? He was damn near 70 and AWESOME. He was the type you'd perhaps make fun of if you weren't fully aware of and accepting the ridiculousness of the situation itself.

Also, Dizzy Reed showed up to jam with the band. Holy hell! 80s night = success!

We hung out until the music stopped, met and thanked some of the band, and left to grab something to eat. Deebsie suggested Mel's in Hollywood, and we wound up there at the same time as Raven Symone...because y'know...3am is the best time for sliders. Of course I couldn't avoid muttering, "Coming to Mel's? God, That's So Raven." as we drove up. This was naturally after the ejector seat button was on 'lock'.

A quick fooding and phone-forgetting (NO GUYS, ITS COOL...DAVID HAS HIS BLACKBERRY BACK NOW. JEEZ.) later, we wander back home and drive around Taft--our old stomping ground. Now, its not like we Tresspassed or anything, but the gate was open and we wandered around inside at 4 in the am, reminiscing and nicking tennis balls. "Thooose weeere the daaaaays~" Strangely, the football field was the only place that didn't feel significantly smaller. And the thing is, we haven't really grown since then. Not in the biological sense, anyway.

An interesting evening, all in all. Shit man, I got my 3 hours of sleep. I'M COOL TO DRIVE. Just...just gimmie the keys, man--I can do it!