A Writer's 21st Century Memoir.

The Hollywood Intern: Part 7- Banned from the Bar

Click here to start from the beginning.

I was getting pretty restless with the whole get up, merge into heavy Los Angeles traffic, go to one of two of my internships, and then come back home at the end of the day routine. It felt humdrum and repetitive and I really didn’t feel like this was my last summer vacation. At least that’s how I felt until my day out with a friend.

I accepted an invitation to maybe go to a museum for the afternoon since we were meeting up in the middle of the week. I gladly accepted and worked my way over a few city blocks after my second internship to where my friend planned on us meeting up.

We spent an hour or two getting lost in an art museum while pondering possible meanings behind the works and tried our best to sneak in a few pictures with our camera phones before leaving. We ended up leaving our cars parked illegally in the museum’s parking lot and walked down to a pretty cool vegan restaurant and ate the most delicious meals period. We savored juicy vegan meatballs, and drank their naturally sweet tasting passion fruit tea and tasty a grilled chicken to die for. We also saw a heftier Robert Pattinson look alike.

We ended back on the streets of the more “posh” sections of Los Angeles and looked around in shops that were charging an arm and a leg for half a sock to cover your boobs. We caught up on life and talked about meeting up for the rest of the summer when we stumbled on this really cool bar.

We walked inside and ordered drinks from this annoying human version of a Ken doll and chatted some more over a couple of beers while Ken fondled a shorter human version of Barbie. After about an hour of lounging around in the bar’s comfy chairs I looked down at my watch thought we should call it a night.

“Hey, are you ready?” I said after gulping my final sip of Stella.

“Yeah, let’s go find a bathroom first,” she said as she started to slip out of her seat.

I pointed to the two empty glasses sitting in front of us at the bar. “Are we going to pay for these?”

“Shhhh,” she got up and headed for the restroom.

I knew better than to get up without paying, but I also didn’t want to stay behind and guestimate the amount for both of our beers. I just got up and left shuffling close behind her till we reached the restroom.

“He never opened up a tab for us and then he got so distracted with that girl at the bar.”

“I kinda feel bad about doing that though.” We both washed our hands after using the restroom and then exited the door. I walked extremely close behind my friend as we swiftly made our way outside of the fancy bar, and then we laughed once we made it out and continued walking down the busy streets.

I’m not going to lie though; I was paranoid once I left the bar and kept imagining Barbie and Ken sprinting after us from the bar down the street. It probably took me a few blocks to calm down.

“I guess I can’t go back to that bar now.”

We walked all the way back to our illegally parked cars and drove out of the parking garage until we made it over to the pay station. I guess my friend said something to the guy at the pay station because when I gave him my ticket and a ten dollar bill for the five hours I left my car in the museum’s available parking, I received eight dollars back and a look that told me he knew where I really went that day.

I smiled and said thank you feeling good about the minimal amount of money I ended up paying for a day that should have probably been at least two to three times more expensive. And as I got on the freeway and drove back to my uncle’s house I knew that my last summer would be pretty cool.

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