Cobb

The Library Tower has another forgettable name these days but it remains impressive as ever, but what I really want to see is the Disney Hall. I can't imagine how I might live with calling it the Walt Disney Hall. There seems no way to dignify the name Disney. That doesn't change the fact that it is stunning and yet as realized less confusing than you would think. Rising from stone very much reminescent of that used at the Getty, Disney Hall's sweeps at ground level are logical and inviting. Everyone is raving about the sonic qualities of the hall. I feel sorry for the Dorothy Chandler Pavillion. What'll they do with it?

The Bonaventure too is a bit dowdy these days. The red tower elevator sports a plaque saying that Arnold Schwartzenegger filmed some part of 'True Lies' there. (insert snarky remark here). The rooms however seem fairly nice. Sister got one on the 20th floor. It is reminescent of the W in San Francisco, but not so overdone. I made a mental note to make a reservation at LA Prime the next time I have a wad of cash.

The 4th floor is where the food court was. Nothing fancy, just some Korean BBQ. Sister had Bimbin Bob and I had a BBQ Beef with a good sized portion of Kimchee. Either this was extra mild, or I have been completely assimilated to kimchee. It's only about my fifth dose and I could tell that my breath could drop sparrows in mid-flight, but I stuffed it down like I was born in Seoul.

Down on the lobby level we ran across the man whose cigar we could smell two floors up. It's miraculous. I guess hotel lobbies are still civilized here in California. I had no idea.

As I headed back to my car, I stopped by the Library. The Riordan Library. I doubt anyone calls it that. I doubt anyone calls Riordan any longer. The copy of Los Angeles Magazine in the hotel room had an article about Magic Johnson. If Schwartzenegger can happen, Johnson can happen. Why am I encouraging my son to be a scientist? Maybe he can figure out a way to make public bathrooms work better. These in the north side of the Library have no stall doors and Clanton gang signs carved into the toilet seats. I turn quickly back onto the street narrowly missed by the third cop on a bicycle I've seen this afternoon.

The Gas Company Tower now has security. I ignore the clipped 'May I help you sir' as I gaze at my favorite curved wooden cieling. I tell the short man with the moustache that I'm from out of town and ask him wasn't this the building where they filmed the opening scene from the movie 'Speed'? Of course it was but he doesn't know. If this were NY he'd know. Whenever I'm incognegro and find myself suddenly feeling as if I should be better dressed, I assume alpha status so as to appear as if I am an undercover FBI agent. I could easily take the moustache. I fiddle with the Carson M16-13Z in my right side pocket.

Back on 3rd street as I turn into the parking lot to head home, I pass the 7th homeless man of the day. No. He's wearing Nike Air Shox. Another man is using a payphone. No I don't have a dime.

As I drive back through downtown I am reminded of the days 23 years ago when I drove my 1968 Karmann Ghia and parked 5 blocks away from my $600/month job. I am reminded of my daily hamburger at Carl's Jr., and the appetizing secretaries who paid me no mind. I recall someone telling me about how smart you had to be to work at Lloyds Bank which doesn't exist any longer. I recall the first Diebold ATM machines in First Interstate Bank with the moveable periscope viewscreen showing my two digit balance in orange glowing alphanumerics. I think about the arcade on Broadway and playing Defender in my narrow wool knit tie and gold chain during my lunch break. I remember the kruggerand rings, gold at $700 an ounce and 18% on jumbo CDs. Those were hectic days when the Bonaventure hosted free outdoor concerts, one even starring that hot new group Duran Duran.

It was a long time ago. My downtown. I'll want to get back there one day.