Dave after Today: Diva in LA

The Coast Starlight train goes from Seattle to San Diego, the entire West Coast of the USA, courtesy of Amtrak.

I was traveling between San Jose and Los Angeles, a journey of 13 hours which was for the most part, incredibly scenic. Through Salinas and down to Santa Barbara, along the coast down to Northridge and down in to Los Angeles Union Station.

The ride cost $49 which considering the fares, taxes, fees and charges the airlines slug you with, is cheap.

Hello - you want to check a bag? $30.
Hello - 2 bags? You need to speak to your Financial Advisor.

The part where the train went along the coast and being able to see the sun set while eating above-average train food - spectacular.

The part where the train was filled with rednecks and other funnies who ride the train - priceless.

Unfortunately, Amtrak reinforce how terrible travel is these days - like the airlines who point blank refuse to be civilized or helpful in any way, shape or form ("MISERY IS IN THE CONDITIONS OF CARRIAGE - NEXT!"). However planes are generally easily traced and delays, while frustrating, have some kind of associated reason or estimated time.

Amtrak are unable to know when or where their trains are expected to show up, so getting to the station early cemented my new philosophy in life to never ever take another optimistic stance when I'm trying to get somewhere on public transport.

For 2 hours a recorded announcement kept saying "The Train has been Delayed by 15 minutes" until the train eventually arrived. Call Amtrak the eternal optimists, they never gave up hope that the train *would* come.

Sometime, Someplace.

Across the aisle from me was Grammaw with her 2 unruly grandchildren. Initially Grammaw managed to convey some kind of olde world train sophistication, but after about 30 minutes it was clear that she was a one trick pony and sophistication wasn't it.

Her grand-daughters were total shits and after about 30 minutes of trying to be disciplinary, she gave up on that trick as well.

It was time for Grammaw to open her old bag of tricks, go to the cafe car and get some hard liquor.

Gram-maw got drunk and spoke of how dignified train journeys *used* to be, and she should know, her father was a train driver. This indicated to everyone within ear shot that her grand-children were shits who had no concept of their heritage and deserved to be run over by the train. Certainly not be allowed to ride the train, at least not with her.

Amtrak do not believe in letting people sleep.

I honestly believe that the train staff have an obsession with hearing their voices over the PA. This little obsession ensured that every 5 minutes someone had something to say - whether it be announcing how the dining car operates, to calling the coach attendants to bring their brooms to the lounge - repeatedly over 2 hours - obviously coach attendants are above sweeping, or the railway rednecks are especially dirty.

At one point they thought the PA had broken so they tested that for about an hour and even went so far as to stop the train so they could check the connections between carriages. You know, in case someone missed out on hearing the business processes associated with running a Dining Car.

"the dining car will be opening in 2 hours" *static*
"when we call your name, y'all come to the dining car" *static*
"we take your order" *static*
"you remain seated" *static*
"we serve your order" *static*

Got it? *static* *static* *static*

The gypsy-like cafe lady had several goes on the PA selling her wares, found in a nook under the Viewing Car. It was kind of hokey down there and while the food was good, the people who loitered in the cafe section as opposed to say, the Viewing section above, scared me. Why???

Cafe Gypsy even went as far as to announce the end of her shift; she would be getting off. "Thanks y'all for coming past and saying Hello" - like we had any choice - she had the monopoly on beer and cheap train food.

The D car had at attendant called Doris.

I am really not sure what planet Doris came from but she was a total space cadet - why she's hauling ass on Amtrak and not NASA, with her kind of experience, is a total mystery.

If someone was meant to sit in her carriage she would totally spend about 15 minutes trying to find a spare seat, despite having a seating plan. This worked in my favour as I scribbled on the little piece of paper above my seat and changed the 1 to a 2, indicating both seats were taken, and she sat no one next to me for the entire trip. I could spread out.

At one point, for absolutely no reason, Doris recalled all the pillows - there was a near riot. She achieved some success with her pillow recall mainly because she was unrelenting in her unexplained and rather random demands. Some people held out, most caved in. You could feel the blood in the car boiling.

Grammaw went so far as to put her 15th beer down, in easy reach of one of the grandchildren. I assumed she was hoping they'd sip a bit and go to sleep, but without a pillow there was no chance in hell.

An underground formed and I signed up. No names were exchanged, we shared the same ideal of a reclined seat and a railway pillow. A group of us went up past the Viewing Car and down into the store room of the B car and we found a stash of pillows in the storage section. It should be noted that every other passenger car had pillows - only Car D with Doris had been affected by the recall.

We took so many pillows back to D car and made such a fuss about handing them out, it was like we were liberating a city under siege. The whole palaver never registered with Doris. Still to this day I don't know what she thought about the up rise and subsequent conquering of the store room, or whether she really cared.

To be honest I don't think she noticed.

Having experienced the Cafe car and its trinkety gypsy food, I signed up for Dining Car Dinner. Initially I was thankful that the guy taking the names started from the back and worked forward so I was guaranteed to be one of the first up. The dining car opened after much PA fanfare (a speech including refresher training on the dining care business process) and the first names were called out.

I was totally killing myself laughing because the first batch called included people called 'Chastity' and 'Diva'.

These, I thought, were awesome black-chick names.

"DIVA - GET YO FAT ASS DOWN TO THE DINING CART GURL! BIG MAMA CHASTITY WANNA EAT! MMM HMMMM!!"

Not being racist - I just think its really cool when they talk like that.

Chastity must of rocked up, but Diva never came and so Diva got called and re-called several times until the penny dropped.

I was Diva.

The guy taking the names must of totally fucked up or been a total fuck up - or something. I mean an Australian accent is hard to understand at the best of times and sure, my name could sound like Dive - but DIVA? Although my nom-du-train had an element of truth to it, honest to god, in my paranoid state of mind I saw everyone on the train pointing to me in hushed whispers and then throwing their heads back laughing -"THATS HIM - THATS DIVA! HAHAHA".

Maybe thats not how it really happened but that's how I saw it.

I was a crazy person and for like the first time in my life, I'm trying to be invisible.

I kept my head down. Talking to nobody. Giggling at everything.

"Yes, hello - tee hee...just heading for the CAFE.. yes, CAFE.. not DINING. hee hee... Oh lookee here, DINING CAR.. I wonder if there is a spare seat tee hee" etc.

I finally make it to the Dining Car. The moment of truth.

"Name?"

".....Dave.....but i think they stuffed up".

EVERYONE in the dining cart heard what I said and stopped what they were doing. The car went silent. All eyes and ears are on me and i'm like a fucking mess by this point - shaky in the legs and feeling lightheaded and faint. I had to think of something to say but I was totally fucked up and kept on with the nervous giggling and fidgeting.

At one point I reached for my phone as if I could create one of those diversons like "OH TEXT MESSAGE" as if that would prove to everyone that someone out there had respect enough for me to want to actually associate themselves with me.

People were still staring. I'm still giggling and fumbling with my phone.

This made the situation worse and I think I will need repressed memory therapy to remember how I got out of it or it ended.

All i remember is being seated with a father and son who were initially embarrassed by my presence, and I made such a big deal about how my name is "Dave" and its really not that hard, but by that point they thought my name was "Crazy".

I did some of those pregnancy breathing exercises I learnt off a movie and had some hard liquor. Gram-maw must of heard the alcohol being poured cause her-of-the-unruly-grandchildren came in, they were next on the list.

I eventually lost my heart palpitations, stopped sweating and gained a dignified composure.

Turned out the father and son were in Car D as well and when I told the story of the pillows they were truely grateful and i went from being "Crazy" to "hero" - in their eyes anyway.

Over dinner, I'd taken to Doris Bashing as if to draw attention to people on the train who were worse off than me. I still reckon that the gig was up and everyone except the father, son and Gram-maw (who winked at me when i slugged some hard liquor) thought I was a total loser.

I yearned for the day the Polish Chick loudly exclaimed "I come after Dance" to the Department of Homeland Security guy at Chicago O'Hare in the Immigration queue.

We arrived at Los Angeles and my Aunty Lisa and Uncle Kirk came to pick me up in the Prius. How very LA!

They drove me to their house in Redondo Beach as I told stories of the train and how I will never take public transportation ever again.

They must have been nervous about my driving experience as they did not offer me use of their car. I must admit, I wouldn't let me drive my car. They mentioned something about a bus and my initial word association was 'RENTAL CAR'.

I have been driving for about 3 months, tho I have done more driving on the 'wrong' side of the road in foreign conditions than I ever did at home. I think this qualifies me as somewhat of an expert behind the wheel.

So no borrowing of the car in LA for me, but they had a bike.

Day 1 I rode bike up from Palos Verdes to Torrance, Redondo, Manhatten, El Segundo and eventually LAX airport. This is about 32Km and about the furthest I have ever gone under my own steam! It was a fantastic ride along the beach and I stopped in at various beaches, shops and cafes along the way to either cool down or piss, and met some interesting LA characters.

This stretch of LA coastline is not nearly as insane as the northern part which houses Venice and Santa Monica Beaches, but this part was amazing none the least. Locals embrace the idea of having a couch on the front porch and so many residents - why they are home during the day i do not know - would sit and watch the passing traffic.

In turn, we watched them. I see me watching you watching me, or however it goes.

Sitting under the flight path of LAX, some 100m away from the beach, was amazing. I could feel the warmth of the jet engine in my face as the planes took off over the beach, sometimes 2 next to each other on the parralel runways. Of course, I was all of a sudden a terrorist threat and some security guys came over. When they saw I was taking in the view and unarmed without a suicide bomb strapped to my chest - all was okay.

I am pretty sure the next time I enter the USA I am going to be sent to Guantanamo on some kind of unmarked aeroplane and will eventually spend the rest of my life rotting away in an Adelaide prison. If I get a good PR person I am sure the Australian people will come to love and adore me. My face will be on T-Shirts, my family will be on A Current Affair. Life may come good after all.

I rode the bike back to Redondo Beach to hang out with Aunty Lisa, Uncle Kirk, Cousin Katie and Cousin Carly that evening. They live on top of a hill and believe you me, I am not designed for going up-hill. I can cope really well with the down-hill but the up-hill is a total killer.

Many times I thought about sitting in the gutter and just idling away the time until death.

Bike Ride Map - there & back!

Another family dinner, this time Traditional Los Angeles cuisine - Mexican. It was such a nice meal, and I kept going back for more! LA Mexican is not as refried-bean intensive as Mexican Mexican, which is a huge relief for everyone near me.

After dinner the girls and I were excited to sit down and watch Episode 1 of the new series of Project Runway. We critiqued each and every scene, which was a repeat of Season 1's first task of designing a dress made entirely out of items sourced at a supermarket.

Being the connoseur of fine Reality TV such as Project Runway that I am, I was able to name the contestant who won said task the first time round - Austin Scarlett. This both impressed and scared my LA family. Project Runway included Austin as a judge of this round - FINGER ON THE PULSE!!!

Supermodel Heidi Klum was looking radiant as ever and it was good to see a series of Project Runway in which she is not pregnant. "One day you are in, the next you are out" indeed! I reckon she says that in her sultry german accent when she is giving birth.

Day 2, having done enough riding to last me the rest of my life - I hired a car and drove around LA with the assistance of GPS. I had lunch in Santa Monica with Tania, Simone and their host. Then I drove over to Beverly Hills and West Hollywood and vibed out. Basically I did nothing in particular, I paid for that full tank of Gas and i was gunna use it.

I did my favourite thing in LA - driving aimlessly around the Hollywood Hills checking out the rich peoples houses and their views. I also kept doing laps of Sunset despite the signs saying "any more than 2 laps in 1 hour will be fined" - fuck that - its a rental. If its good enough for Britney its good enough for me! I went past Kitson, The Ivy, The Roosevelt Hotel and drove up a street with a wicked view of the HOLLYWOOD sign. I also stopped by Canters Deli (again) and some other cool places on Fairfax.

Unfortunately I got stuck in Rush Hour on the I405 but GPS in the USA is able to forecast traffic conditions and for the most part had me going down La Cienega Blvd, which made for a much more scenic driving tour of LA anyway, despite LA being really unscenic.

Rush Hour seemed to be all the time but no more than when I happened to be on the road, which was kind of cool. Vibing the city in the way of the local. I had to be up early on Day 3 to drive to Northridge to get a lift with Deb, Tania & Simone to Las Vegas. We were driving through the desert on the 4 hour hike from LA to Vegas in Deb's SUV. I plugged my destination into the GPS , Budget Rent-A-Car Northridge, and off I went.

Ryan Seacrest was broadcasting his morning radio show as I sat in gridlock with a Starbucks coffee on I405 heading north.

How LA can you get?

I made it to Northridge, site of the famous earthquake and really needed to make an earthquake of my own. Thankfully, Americans love their fast food and fast food loves a free public toilet and so I popped in.

Alright, so I go to the bathroom. After the bathroom, I decide "I'll try a breakfast". All up, transaction time in McDonalds - 10 minutes. The breakfast sucked, so after the first bite I tossed it in the bin and continued my blind devotion to the GPS system to get me around the corner for the 30 second roll to the Budget Rent-A-Car.

Being 10 minutes late, I apologised saying "I went to McDonalds on the way". This raised the ire of my travel buddies, for they had not eaten breakfast. I protested, 'but the breakfast sucked' - but still, there had been words. It hung in the air. I felt bad.

Why did I feel bad? For the first time in my life i exercised discretion. Driving along, I had been thinking - "do i talk too much shit? Are all my stories about the toilet? Is this shit even funny any more?". I decided to play it down - I euphemised "McDonalds" in lieu of "Banging Crap" - essentially the same thing in my books anyway.

For once, I was actually ashamed to have to admit to a bowel movement. Misunderstanding cleared up. Word got around and defenses were lowered and I actually felt humiliated, which is odd considering how much literal shit I talk. I felt even worse than if i'd farted in front of the Pope - "Oops! Bless me!".

So... driving along, looking within - finding some kind of spiritual zen - self reflection on my life. Hamming it up like I had divine spiritual intervention on the interstate. How fucking LA!

It backfired, if you'll excuse the pun.