Dear Dry Ink,

I landed in Phoenix as the sun was setting. Hit the hotel for a quick shower then off to Trader Vic’s for rum drinks and laughter. Jumped in the rental car by 10 a.m. for a trip to Beverly Hills. Drove through the Mojave Desert and Joshua Tree National Park. U2, the Clash and the Rolling Stones played on the FM radio. Saw a bobcat tear apart a jack rabbit and a yucca night lizard battle with a sidewinder. Started at the Oasis of Mara and ended at the Lost Palms. Saw Mastodon Peak and a boulder that looked like a skull. Drove through a forest of windmills in Palm Springs and headed for L.A. Got to the Holiday Inn on West Olympic Blvd about 5 p.m. Our drive was about six hours, took several piss breaks and quick glances. Hit the hotel bar for soup and beverages. Got my handwriting analyzed by a specialist. She said I was mentally gymnastic. Got into a fight with an Englishman. Went to a cocktail party and hung out with the 60 year old Slovakian bartender. He was the coolest guy there. He said Arnold Schwarzenegger is a horrible tipper and that Sly Stallone is surprisingly cool. We talked all night and he gave me good advice. Got drunk as hell on French wine and woke up with the worst hangover. Drank much coffee and hit the streets. Saw Tori Spelling drive by with James Van Der Beek and dropped my mocha frap because I always thought they were the same person. Saw Ted Danson jogging and Rob Schneider eating sushi. Wasn’t the A list crowd I thought I might see. Ended up taking a drive to the beach. The top was down and the sky was blue. Got drunk on some more of that French red and put my feet in the water. Played a game of volley ball with some Norwegians and passed out in their tent. Woke up with sand in my arse.

Hugs,
Tom

Tom Cheshire is the publisher of Dry Ink. Write to him at tom@dryinkmag.com