1. I went to the Smoke House three times last week, a personal record. And how did I get there? That's the story of this "post." 2. First I had to decide what to read on the airplane. It was down to the wire! Would it be THE WAVES by Virginia Woolf or THE CHARTERHOUSE OF PARMA by Stendahl? THE WAVES was just the right size I like to take on an airplane! And frankly, THE CHARTERHOUSE OF PARMA was thick as hell! Plus it was heavier than it looked. I made Dr. Theresa hold it so she could see how heavy it was. I was like, "Can I carry this around an airport?" She didn't seem to care. Okay! On the plus side - and this influenced the final decision - my friends Chuck and Allyson had recommended THE CHARTERHOUSE OF PARMA to pass the time after a certain exciting medical incident I enjoyed a few years ago. In particular, Chuck sort of acted out some of the plot if I recall correctly, with sweeping gestures, citing approvingly the passionate, violent emotions of the characters. And sure enough, I wasn't too many pages in before someone was beaten to death with umbrellas. 3. Speaking of which, one of my times at the Smoke House, my friend "A." who works at the Hollywood Bowl told me you can't bring an umbrella there for a couple of reasons, one of which is that an umbrella is a potential weapon. Nor is this the last umbrella-related anecdote you are about to hear, so get ready! 4. So there I sat on the plane while people were boarding. An old man stopped in the aisle and stared silently at my lap - holding up the line with his infinite elderly patience born of the wisdom of time! - until I was given to understand (through telepathy?) that he wanted me to hold up my book so he could see what it was. Well, I couldn't tell whether he was satisfied with my choice. I thought his eyes twinkled approvingly, but that may have been projection. The flight attendant stuck behind him gave me a knowing grin as she was finally able to pass and I grinned back, though it made me feel like a Judas to the old man whose only crime was being interested in books. His only crime that I know of. 5. Among the promised movie selections on my airplane seatback was THE GLASS BOTTOM BOAT. Both the flight attendant and my seatmate tried to get it to load for me, but modern technology hates Doris Day. I blame Elon Musk! 6. "Are you an actor?" I asked my seatmate. She said yes! She was in many episodes of various TV shows. (Ace looked her up later and was pleased to learn that she was, just for instance, on three episodes of CANNON, one of his favorite private eye series.) Anyway, she told me lots of interesting stories, describing, for example, Mickey Rooney's antics at Glenn Ford's funeral. I will add only that she once went to a party at Pickfair, which, if you are a member of the Million Dollar Book Club, you will know was the fabulous home of Mary Pickford. If you are not a member of the Million Dollar Book Club, well, you probably don't give a damn. And you know what? I don't care what your "blog" would be about if you had one. 7. Pen picked me up at the Burbank airport and we had lunch at the Smoke House... the first of my three visits. I had been traveling since 2 in the morning Pacific Time, so I was tuckered out! I lay down in my hotel room, thinking I'd nap until about 5 PM and get up for an early dinner before retiring again. When I woke up, the clock had already struck 10! I was thirsty. There was no bottled water in the room, so I decided to go downstairs for a San Pellegrino. I know you think this is a dull story but just you wait! So I'm there at the bar and I notice the tattoo on the arm of the guy sitting next to me. The ink represents a magnificent, many-masted sailing ship, an appreciation of which I noted aloud to the gentleman in question. He went on to explain his tattoo to me in some detail and then said "Buy this man a drink!" How could I refuse? I ordered a Manhattan. There was one other man at the bar, on the other side of the tattooed stranger. "Get one for him too!" said the kind tattooed man. So the guy on the other side of him said "Can I get a picture with you to show my girlfriend?" Then I tried to look at the stranger's face, though his head was turned, for he was clearly a person of renown. When I overheard the bartender call him "Kiefer," there could be no mistake. The man who had bought me a drink was none other than Kiefer Sutherland. For some reason I blurted "Your dad was great in INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS!" He said that the movie freaked him out when he was a kid and I said "Me too!"... although, upon reflection, our reasons certainly must have differed to some extent. During the length of my visit, Kate had to listen to this story four times. 8. At lunch at a French restaurant, I noticed that I had lost my jotting pen! Across the room from me, a snazzily dressed young woman put on her cool sunglasses and made a video of herself eating snails. 9. I checked with the gate guard at Warner Brothers to see if I had left my pen in his booth the day before when I emptied my pockets upon entering the grounds. No dice! 10. Adam walked me from the studio to one of my Smoke House assignations. It began to drizzle, and Adam suggested that we stop by the Warner Brothers store for an umbrella. See! I told you there was another umbrella story! A salesperson told us there were no umbrellas. We dawdled among the merchandise for a bit, and then, as we were leaving, the same man ran up to us and said he was mistaken: there WERE umbrellas. And he pointed out exactly where they were. But when we went to where he had been pointing, there were no umbrellas. That's just something for you to think about. 11. The main thing is check out the mannequin (above) from that day in the Warner Brothers store. It's wearing a Halloween mask of Kiefer Sutherland in THE LOST BOYS! And so life comes full circle. 12. Went to dinner at Dan Tana's. Eating at the next booth was a person who turned out to be Deanne Mencher, the 93-year-old woman who makes the cheesecakes for Dan Tana's. She has been making cheesecake for Dan Tana's since 1964. Well, despite the fact that I should not eat cheesecake (see #2, above), you better believe I had a few bites in her honor. I also had a $17 side order of peas. 13. Speaking of food, Hanna told me she ate the grits I sent to Sweden! In a fine turn of phrase, she likened them to "corn risotto." 14. Some days after losing my pen, I was sitting in a room, and I glanced down, and my lost pen (see #s 8 and 9, above) was just lying there in the middle of the floor! What a day. 15. Now let us return to the hotel bar. To my left, a woman urgently calling her bookie. To my right, an old man with a rather noble profile, slumped over what I took to be an enormous cup of coffee (it turned out to be tea). Into this truly enormous cup, almost the size of a bowl, he dipped methodically and repeatedly a similarly enormous cheese Danish. Dip, dip, dip, slump, slump, slump, slurp, slurp, slurp, until both incredibly large entities, tea and Danish, were completely consumed. And he lifted his large and noble head and looked me in the face and he was... Cliff Clavin from CHEERS! The hotel manager came by and made quite a fuss over him, rightly so. I thought I would blow his mind by saying I remembered him in RAGTIME. I did not blow his mind. He showed no evidence of a blown mind as he responded robotically in the fewest possible syllables, and who can blame him? 16. Waiting for my return flight at the Burbank airport. A group of work friends were having a good time behind me. At one point I heard the sentence "Jesse used to work for our company then he punched Brad in the face at a party." As you can see, I jotted it in my jotting book. 17. On the plane home, I spied another jotter! He was across the aisle from me, jotting to beat the band! This guy was the Joyce Carol Oates of jotting. He was filling up page after page with jots! He wore a cap imprinted with the legend "Do You Know Who I Am" - seemingly ironic. 18. Toward the end of the flight, I discovered that he had two different jotting books! He stored one away and I thought it was all over. But then he pulled out his second jotting book from its hiding place and started jotting like all hell had broken loose! While I prefer a small jotting book, I could not help but envy his large, assertive jotting books. Then I saw that he was reading a Malcolm Gladwell book and I lost all respect for him. Ha ha!
