2001-12-03 - 6:34 p.m.
The California Chronicles -- Oh What a Night
This is part four of the California Chronicles.
For easy navigation, here are all the chronicles:
This entry deals primarily with Wednesday night, and my first meeting with PenPal.
So after a couple of missed connections with PenPal on my first two days in LA, I was starting to get worried. SmogMonkey was floating little phrases like "deliberately avoiding" into my consciousness. Not that I really believed that, but SmogMonkey likes to point out the worst of all possibilities. He's a bastard like that.
Anyway, PenPal graciously came and picked me up at the hotel, and we went down into Hollywood for dinner.
Let me say, to begin, what a great night.
Second, let me tangent for a second. I don't know if you've ever met someone in real life after having "met" them on the internet. If you haven't, take my word for it, the first meeting can be a harrowing experience. I did the internet personal ads thing for a while, and I had some *nasty* first meetings. I had some instances where the other person had drastically misrepresented themselves, and the first meeting was a real shock. I also had some where that internet rapport evaporated, and we just stared at each other from across the table. I had one woman offer to smoke me up on the first date. I'm digressing. I won't say I'm an old hand at this, and I'm not actually still in touch with any of these people, but I will say that I knew enough of the process to be nervous.
You see, you build up expectations about a person when you talk to them online, and you can never be *completely* sure if they're accurate until you meet them in person. I have made a deliberate effort to not let my expectations about PenPal get out of hand, but I know that they were a bit high anyway.
So, man was I ever pleased when they were not just met, but exceeded.
I'm not going to go into a hell of a lot of detail here, because she reads this, and I don't want to sound all fawning and sycophantic, but...
PenPal is one damned cool person. She's smart, she's funny, she's one seriously beautiful babe, and she can engage in some kick-ass conversation.
Ladies, I can't tell you how important that is. Guys need women who can carry on a reasonable, adult conversation (unless that guy drives a Camaro, then he needs fake boobs (not on him, on the lady -- sheesh)).
We had a great dinner, and I narrowly escaped the riding of a mechanical bull (don't ask), then we headed off to see Sam Shaber.
It turns out that the place we were headed was only a few miles from where we ate. I, being the Eagle Scout that I am, had wisely printed out a map of our destination prior to leaving on the trip, then unwisely left said map in San Diego. We did eventually find our way there, but we toured most of Hollywood, passed by Rodeo Drive, and said "Hello" to Bel Aire in between.
We arrived about five bars into Sam's first song, so it was all good.
Speaking of good. Sam Shaber rocks my world. She is just the best. She played all of my favorites (including "All of This" with no prodding), plus about four new songs that I'd never heard before (joy). I had, of course, worn my perfecT T-shirt, so she had me stand up and model it for everyone. She played a new song she wrote for her fiance (she asked him, which is, like the coolest thing *ever*) that was her usual trademark amazing.
Ah, what a night.
Really, I can't stress enough.
What a night.
I couldn't script a better night than that (except for one detail).