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LA Anaheim Trip, 2 of 5
Apr. 5th, 2024 11:59 pmFRIDAY
I woke up about 6 am to pee, then got up with the alarm at seven. We had breakfast in the hotel restaurant just after eight. I had coffee and an omelet with a side of bacon, while Gary had an Arnold Palmer and French toast. The young dude seated to Gary's right reminded me of Rene from the Chorus. After breakfast we sat in the lobby and plotted the rest of the day: a visit to the City Hall observation deck, followed by the Academy Awards museum.
We walked the short distance to City Hall and inquired at the security checkpoint whether the observation deck was open, but it was closed for the day. I got some pictures from City Hall Park, then we walked to the Civic Center Station and caught a Purple Line (D) train to the end of the line at Wilshire and Western. At one stop, a dude stood indecisively in the doorway for several seconds before deciding not to board the train after all. I told Gary, "What does he think he is, a cat?" I stopped to tie my shoe at the station plaza, then we skipped the crowded 720 express bus to board the 20 local bus which followed, continuing down Wilshire. The stop at Ogden closest to the museum was closed for construction, so we left the bus at the next stop and backtracked to the plaza of the LA County Museum of Art (LACMA), where we got pictures of the Urban Light exhibit. Since we had about half an hour to wait before entering the Oscar museum, I bought us coffee from an outdoor bar and we sat at a table under a canopy near the LACMA entrance. We approached the door of the Academy Museum on Wilshire, and the nice-looking dude guarding the doors directed us around the Fairfax side of the building to the plaza where the actual entrance was. We picked up wristbands at the front desk and ascended the escalators to the fifth floor, where a rooftop pavilion was attached to the museum proper by the Barbra Streisand Bridge. After a few moments there, we descended to the fourth floor and took in an exhibit on John Waters: Pope of Trash which occupied almost the entire floor. From that exhibit we briefly checked out a video exhibit on independent film that we were warned might be disturbing (and after a few minutes decided not to stay to find out), then skipped the third floor which was mostly closed for construction of new exhibits, and finished up our visit on the second floor with an exhibit featuring "The Godfather" among other films. We returned to the lobby, decided to skip the café for lunch, and purchased a fridge magnet at the gift shop before exiting onto Wilshire.
We walked to The Counter, an upscale burger joint attached to the SAG-AFTRA building, and were seated on the patio. Gary had a chicken Caesar salad and I had a Sonoma Bowl (salad greens with quinoa, pesto, a burger patty and a round of goat cheese) and a cup of chili on the side; we both had blueberry-pomegranate lemonade. We spotted three or four hot bears and a leggy lady in black hotpants, and our waiter was nice-looking as well. A party of older folks exited the restaurant, with one dude in a wheelchair being pushed at ludicrous speed by a younger dude who I presume is his son. It reminded me of having to tell Dad to put the electric scooter on turtle as we returned from the end of Coupeville pier.
We left the restaurant and crossed the street to catch the 20 bus back to the hotel. We were seated in the back corner of the bus, either side of a black lady of a certain age (as she later informed us, 52 😊) who at first kept to herself, but opened up as a crowd of high-school students boarded a few blocks further along. When the kids left to transfer to the train at Wilshire and Western, Gary and I swapped seats, placing me in the center of the back bench beside the lady and Gary in front of her, and she began engaging us in a conversation I would say was entertaining even with its serious or preachy (but well-intentioned) moments. I suspect the oversized can of Modelo Negro beer she snuck sips from as we went helped. Along the way I spotted a hot bear buttoning up his delivery truck and squeezing between it and the bus to be on his way, and a lady with a black dog in a golden jacket with wings. We arrived at 6th and Broadway, where the street was rife with theaters and jewelry stores, to change buses.
We arrived back at our room about 3:30 and took about 45 minutes to recharge, both our phones and ourselves. In the elevator down to the lobby, an Asian lady inquired what the WHL on my Silvertips cap meant. I answered and she guessed (incorrectly) what a Silvertip is so I told her it's a grizzly bear. We caught the 40 back to Union Station, and this time we exited on the west side of the station rather than waiting for the bus to circle around to the transit center. As we left the bus I spotted a Kraken fan in a Tanev sweater walking a bit ahead of us. We bought tickets and hurried to board the train to Anaheim, which was composed of the same Bombardier cars used on the Sounder. As we left Union Station, it was announced that the tracks were closed beyond Anaheim because of what the announcement euphemistically referred to as a "trespasser strike": in plain language, someone got run over by a train. ☹️ We moved slowly all the way to Anaheim, where our train was held at the back of the extended platform behind the previous train.
Since we'd reached our destination, we left the train and made our way through the ARTIC intermodal station to the Honda Center. I beeped in the metal detector but the wand found nothing; I suspect the large assortment of zippers on my leather jacket plus my suspenders were to blame. We didn't see an escalator, only an elevator and stairs, so I strongly suggested we take the elevator up to the fourth level where our seats were. Before the game started, I got Gary a lemonade and myself a horchata from the Mexican place around the corner from our seats. The first period was relatively uneventful, with the exception of a nearly two-minute delayed penalty and the first goal, by the Kraken's Shane Wright with just shy of four minutes left in the period. During the first intermission, Gary went around the concourse in search of a team store, returning to his seat about two and a half minutes into the second period immediately after a second goal by Shane Wright. I agreed with Gary that should Shane score another one, we're not throwing our hats from up here. Gary was amused when they played a segment of "My Own Worst Enemy" by Lit during a break in play, and a good chunk of the crowd kept on singing after play resumed (myself included). The next goal was scored by the Kraken's Matty Beniers with 8:20 left in the second, followed in quick succession by a fight set off by a serious trip by Radko Gudas on Tanev that sent Turbo flying, and a cross-check against Shane Wright by another Duck for a 5 on 3 which wasn't capitalized on. A few minutes before second intermission, Gary got up to get food and I followed him because I needed to pee. A Kraken fan noticed my hat and greeted me with "Go Tips!" Gary was surprised I was there so he returned to his seat to watch our stuff. At the same time, the Ducks scored their first goal. When I was done, it was the end of the second period and Gary suggested I go buy an order of chicken tenders and fries to split, as well as drinks (I got two Diet Cokes). I ordered from the kiosk and we were done eating by the time the third period started. The closing minutes of the game were interesting even though no further points were scored. First, the Ducks pulled the goalie with almost three minutes left, then there was a flurry of penalties (two for Anaheim and one for Seattle) with two and a half minutes left, and finally a loud Kraken fan (quite likely the same dude who'd given me the "Go Tips!" earlier) called coach Hakstol a coward for not putting Shane Wright back in to possibly complete his hat trick. The game concluded with a Kraken win, 3-1.
Afterwards we made our way to the ARTIC to catch the Flix bus back to Los Angeles. Gary wasn't sure what bay we should wait at, so he handed me the ticket and I found the small print directing us to Bay 10. When we arrived, the schedule said the bus would be five minutes late, then ten, before the schedule program gave up. The bus tracker remained accurate, though, and showed the bus stalled in traffic west of the Honda Center for ten minutes at a stretch. It finally arrived about 40 minutes late. On the way, Gary spotted a billboard for a personal injury lawyer that read simply: "WHO HURT YOU?" The trip was otherwise uneventful aside from the fellow behind me asking me to turn off my bright phone so he could sleep, and a stop out behind a casino seemingly in the middle of nowhere, which turned out to be a driver change.
When we arrived across from Union Station, some dude was asking everyone if they needed a taxi as we exited the bus. Gary looked up the bus ride back to the hotel and pointed to some bus shelters diagonally opposite the FlixBus terminal. When we arrived there, we were greeted by a light-brown pit mix dog who was having a marvelous time fetching a stick. The 70 bus arrived about ten minutes later than expected, but we soon realized that was because we were headed the wrong direction on Cesar Chavez St. We left the bus across the street from a wildly decorated shop called Zamora Bros., and I called for a Lyft from there to the hotel. We were picked up by a nice dude named Kevin in a gray Prius, and I appreciated him playing Whitesnake. We returned to the room around one, prepared for bed, and finally got to sleep about quarter to two.
I woke up about 6 am to pee, then got up with the alarm at seven. We had breakfast in the hotel restaurant just after eight. I had coffee and an omelet with a side of bacon, while Gary had an Arnold Palmer and French toast. The young dude seated to Gary's right reminded me of Rene from the Chorus. After breakfast we sat in the lobby and plotted the rest of the day: a visit to the City Hall observation deck, followed by the Academy Awards museum.
We walked the short distance to City Hall and inquired at the security checkpoint whether the observation deck was open, but it was closed for the day. I got some pictures from City Hall Park, then we walked to the Civic Center Station and caught a Purple Line (D) train to the end of the line at Wilshire and Western. At one stop, a dude stood indecisively in the doorway for several seconds before deciding not to board the train after all. I told Gary, "What does he think he is, a cat?" I stopped to tie my shoe at the station plaza, then we skipped the crowded 720 express bus to board the 20 local bus which followed, continuing down Wilshire. The stop at Ogden closest to the museum was closed for construction, so we left the bus at the next stop and backtracked to the plaza of the LA County Museum of Art (LACMA), where we got pictures of the Urban Light exhibit. Since we had about half an hour to wait before entering the Oscar museum, I bought us coffee from an outdoor bar and we sat at a table under a canopy near the LACMA entrance. We approached the door of the Academy Museum on Wilshire, and the nice-looking dude guarding the doors directed us around the Fairfax side of the building to the plaza where the actual entrance was. We picked up wristbands at the front desk and ascended the escalators to the fifth floor, where a rooftop pavilion was attached to the museum proper by the Barbra Streisand Bridge. After a few moments there, we descended to the fourth floor and took in an exhibit on John Waters: Pope of Trash which occupied almost the entire floor. From that exhibit we briefly checked out a video exhibit on independent film that we were warned might be disturbing (and after a few minutes decided not to stay to find out), then skipped the third floor which was mostly closed for construction of new exhibits, and finished up our visit on the second floor with an exhibit featuring "The Godfather" among other films. We returned to the lobby, decided to skip the café for lunch, and purchased a fridge magnet at the gift shop before exiting onto Wilshire.
We walked to The Counter, an upscale burger joint attached to the SAG-AFTRA building, and were seated on the patio. Gary had a chicken Caesar salad and I had a Sonoma Bowl (salad greens with quinoa, pesto, a burger patty and a round of goat cheese) and a cup of chili on the side; we both had blueberry-pomegranate lemonade. We spotted three or four hot bears and a leggy lady in black hotpants, and our waiter was nice-looking as well. A party of older folks exited the restaurant, with one dude in a wheelchair being pushed at ludicrous speed by a younger dude who I presume is his son. It reminded me of having to tell Dad to put the electric scooter on turtle as we returned from the end of Coupeville pier.
We left the restaurant and crossed the street to catch the 20 bus back to the hotel. We were seated in the back corner of the bus, either side of a black lady of a certain age (as she later informed us, 52 😊) who at first kept to herself, but opened up as a crowd of high-school students boarded a few blocks further along. When the kids left to transfer to the train at Wilshire and Western, Gary and I swapped seats, placing me in the center of the back bench beside the lady and Gary in front of her, and she began engaging us in a conversation I would say was entertaining even with its serious or preachy (but well-intentioned) moments. I suspect the oversized can of Modelo Negro beer she snuck sips from as we went helped. Along the way I spotted a hot bear buttoning up his delivery truck and squeezing between it and the bus to be on his way, and a lady with a black dog in a golden jacket with wings. We arrived at 6th and Broadway, where the street was rife with theaters and jewelry stores, to change buses.
We arrived back at our room about 3:30 and took about 45 minutes to recharge, both our phones and ourselves. In the elevator down to the lobby, an Asian lady inquired what the WHL on my Silvertips cap meant. I answered and she guessed (incorrectly) what a Silvertip is so I told her it's a grizzly bear. We caught the 40 back to Union Station, and this time we exited on the west side of the station rather than waiting for the bus to circle around to the transit center. As we left the bus I spotted a Kraken fan in a Tanev sweater walking a bit ahead of us. We bought tickets and hurried to board the train to Anaheim, which was composed of the same Bombardier cars used on the Sounder. As we left Union Station, it was announced that the tracks were closed beyond Anaheim because of what the announcement euphemistically referred to as a "trespasser strike": in plain language, someone got run over by a train. ☹️ We moved slowly all the way to Anaheim, where our train was held at the back of the extended platform behind the previous train.
Since we'd reached our destination, we left the train and made our way through the ARTIC intermodal station to the Honda Center. I beeped in the metal detector but the wand found nothing; I suspect the large assortment of zippers on my leather jacket plus my suspenders were to blame. We didn't see an escalator, only an elevator and stairs, so I strongly suggested we take the elevator up to the fourth level where our seats were. Before the game started, I got Gary a lemonade and myself a horchata from the Mexican place around the corner from our seats. The first period was relatively uneventful, with the exception of a nearly two-minute delayed penalty and the first goal, by the Kraken's Shane Wright with just shy of four minutes left in the period. During the first intermission, Gary went around the concourse in search of a team store, returning to his seat about two and a half minutes into the second period immediately after a second goal by Shane Wright. I agreed with Gary that should Shane score another one, we're not throwing our hats from up here. Gary was amused when they played a segment of "My Own Worst Enemy" by Lit during a break in play, and a good chunk of the crowd kept on singing after play resumed (myself included). The next goal was scored by the Kraken's Matty Beniers with 8:20 left in the second, followed in quick succession by a fight set off by a serious trip by Radko Gudas on Tanev that sent Turbo flying, and a cross-check against Shane Wright by another Duck for a 5 on 3 which wasn't capitalized on. A few minutes before second intermission, Gary got up to get food and I followed him because I needed to pee. A Kraken fan noticed my hat and greeted me with "Go Tips!" Gary was surprised I was there so he returned to his seat to watch our stuff. At the same time, the Ducks scored their first goal. When I was done, it was the end of the second period and Gary suggested I go buy an order of chicken tenders and fries to split, as well as drinks (I got two Diet Cokes). I ordered from the kiosk and we were done eating by the time the third period started. The closing minutes of the game were interesting even though no further points were scored. First, the Ducks pulled the goalie with almost three minutes left, then there was a flurry of penalties (two for Anaheim and one for Seattle) with two and a half minutes left, and finally a loud Kraken fan (quite likely the same dude who'd given me the "Go Tips!" earlier) called coach Hakstol a coward for not putting Shane Wright back in to possibly complete his hat trick. The game concluded with a Kraken win, 3-1.
Afterwards we made our way to the ARTIC to catch the Flix bus back to Los Angeles. Gary wasn't sure what bay we should wait at, so he handed me the ticket and I found the small print directing us to Bay 10. When we arrived, the schedule said the bus would be five minutes late, then ten, before the schedule program gave up. The bus tracker remained accurate, though, and showed the bus stalled in traffic west of the Honda Center for ten minutes at a stretch. It finally arrived about 40 minutes late. On the way, Gary spotted a billboard for a personal injury lawyer that read simply: "WHO HURT YOU?" The trip was otherwise uneventful aside from the fellow behind me asking me to turn off my bright phone so he could sleep, and a stop out behind a casino seemingly in the middle of nowhere, which turned out to be a driver change.
When we arrived across from Union Station, some dude was asking everyone if they needed a taxi as we exited the bus. Gary looked up the bus ride back to the hotel and pointed to some bus shelters diagonally opposite the FlixBus terminal. When we arrived there, we were greeted by a light-brown pit mix dog who was having a marvelous time fetching a stick. The 70 bus arrived about ten minutes later than expected, but we soon realized that was because we were headed the wrong direction on Cesar Chavez St. We left the bus across the street from a wildly decorated shop called Zamora Bros., and I called for a Lyft from there to the hotel. We were picked up by a nice dude named Kevin in a gray Prius, and I appreciated him playing Whitesnake. We returned to the room around one, prepared for bed, and finally got to sleep about quarter to two.