in l.a. & lost in the bathroom
2001.09.04 16.06
| I took four pictures of Richard Simmons while we were both waiting to board a flight from Philadelphia to Los Angeles in the summer of 2001. Here's the scissor-paper-rock game I wrote based on those photos. The game now features my new W3C-compliant javascript that should work on any browser. Have fun! |
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Let me start at the beginning... I stayed over in Philly this Saturday and re-arranged the room I was going to potentially be working in. Okay, I didn't just re-arrange... I
utilized my anal retentive super powers and organized. I haven't heard back on the response, but hopefully no one will send me back to Houston upon my return. Later in the
day I drove to the airport to fly to Los Angeles. While I stood in line to check in I heard someone say Richard Simmons was in the airport. I briefly considered tracking him down
to improve my Forrest Gump factor (thanks to Mark A. for that description). I decided against it and went straight to my terminal only to discover Richard Simmons and I would
be flying to Los Angeles on the same plane. I asked if he could take the photos I use in the above program and he was very gracious and happy to oblige. He actually was very
animated as I took the photos. You can probably detect that based on the expressions on his face. I told him it wasn't necessary to move around but he said, 'I like to get
into what I'm doing.' Fair enough. I wrote the program to play the game while on the plane since it was a 5 hour plus flight. I sat next to some non-English speaking Germans
who kept coughing. I need to make a conscious effort to remember when people seem sick around me and avoid their ass. Dammit.
I'd phoned Oktober ahead before leaving to tell her Simmons would be on my plane and when I walked off the plane she and Kristina were at a fancy bar not 20 feet away from
the exit ramp. They really know how to chill out over here. We were out of the terminal and waiting for a decent car at Thrifty car rental. They told me a nice Kia was waiting for
me. Hell no. I was briefly promised a convertible, but My Man at the Thrify came up empty. We instead opted for a luxury car with a sunroof. I need to make a conscious
effort to remember when I've got my head near a sunroof and avoid the sun. Dammit.
We checked into the Best Western on the corner of the 405 and Santa Monica Boulevard. The price is right, and it's only a few blocks away from the Mann's Village Theatre where
the Rock Star premiere will happen. Kristina got us hooked up with a house party and subsequent trip to a club called Deep. We were only at the house briefly and were
quicky whisked away to Deep thereafter. Deep is on the corner of Hollywood and Vine, so right there... that's cool. There was a fairly long line of people but, of the 10 girls
who accompanied me, we were allowed to bypass the line thanks to someone knowing someone. Oh, did I mention I was the only guy, practically? I think there was some other
guy, but he vanished quickly. There were three large areas comprising the club. The glass room in the back featured a dance area enclosed in one-way glass. You can see
inside, but the dancers can't see out. There's also a giant glass ceiling where two dancers crawl all over each other above the dancing crowd. Very... interesting.
Of course, I suffered greatly while being surrounded by 10 attractive women. I need to make a conscious effort to remember when I'm
surrounded by 10 hotties and avoid leaving. Dammit.
I drove the girls back to the hotel and we conked out until 11 A.M. At one point I woke up in the middle of the night and only saw Kristina in the other bed. I noticed the
bathroom door was ajar, although the light was off. I figured Oktober was busy. I waited 5 minutes although I really needed to make a visit to that particular room.
I eventually got up, opened the door, Oktober walked out and beelined straight to the bed. Thinking nothing of it, I entered and that was that. The next morning, however, I learned
that Oktober had actually been lost in the darkness of the bathroom for several minutes. I think the blame goes out to the bartender at Deep as well as the bottle of
champagne I bought so we could sit at a nice table back by the glass room. I need to make a conscious effort to remember when I hear groping in the bathroom that it
could be a tipsy sleepy girl walking in circles thinking she's entered a labyrinth. I'm not saying dammit this time, dammit.
