I’d asked the Front Desk for a wake-up call on Day #3, but for some reason it didn’t come. I hadn’t set the alarm clock, either. But fortunately I heard the tap-tap-tap of Room Service bringing our breakfast.
The breakfast menu included a fruit plate with cottage cheese. That sounded pretty good to both #1 Son and I, so I ordered 2. I also requested some plain yogurt and a pot of coffee. I was expecting 1/2 cup of cottage cheese and maybe a melon slice or two and a small muffin. What I got was a cup of cottage cheese and several slices of different types of melons plus strawberries and grapes and two big slices of banana bread. The kitchen didn’t have any plain yogurt, so they sent up 3 different flavors, just in case one would tickle my fancy. One fruit plate would have been enough for both of us. Two was an embarrassment of riches. That meal was definitely the best value we had anywhere.
Mom’s take on room-service breakfast: 
for tons of fresh fruit, yummy banana bread, and the kitchen’s willingness to please.
After breakfast we caught the tour bus to the tour terminal, where we transfered to our tour bus. The bus was about 3/4 full, and our fellow tourists were a mix of Brits and Aussies, with one family from California and one family from Japan. The Japanese couple brought an infant and a toddler with them, much to the displeasure of the rest of us. The kids cried and fussed through the whole tour. (Note to other potential tourists: Leave the kids at home until they’re old enough to be interested in the tour.)
Our driver was a Hispanic American who had been driving tour buses for 30 years and had it down pat. I thought he was really funny, but apparently his humor was lost on our friends from across the pond. He was also fond of telling us about tragedies (that’s where they found John Belushi’s body, that’s where River Phoenix collapsed, a woman jumped off the Hollywood sign, etc.).
As we drove to LA, the driver pointed out the sights along the way. He stopped so that we could get a picture of the Hollywood sign, but the smog was so bad I declined. It occurred to me later that a shot of the sign through the smog, with chain-link fence and freeway in the foreground, would probably have been worth taking. Ah well. That’s why I’m not a photographer.
The Water District building was interesting. It has a reflecting pool all the way around it, like a moat. There’s a bridge from the sidewalk to the door. Under the pool is underground parking. I thought it showed a rather ostentation disregard for water conservation, but apparently it’s a private company rather than a governmental body.
After driving around downtown LA, our first stop was the El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora La Reina de Los Angeles historical district, which includes the Mission and Olvera Street. We didn’t have a chance to go inside the Mission, but there was a little Mexican market going on in Olvera Street that was fun and there were food carts for snacks and drinks.
Mom’s take on Mission/Olvera: Hey… this is where it all started! Gotta love it.
The next stop was Hollywood. The bus dropped us off next to Grauman’s Chinese Theater, where we could look at the hand prints and the stars on the walk of fame. There was a small crowd gathered just down the street a block or so. The driver said that it looked like someone was getting a star. I wanted to go down and see who it was, but #1 Son just wanted to go in the souvenir shop. I tried to no avail to talk him into delaying shopping just a few minutes, but he was adamant. I didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone in Hollywood (it’s a terrible area of the city), so I followed him into the store. When the bus picked us up, the driver asked who it was that was getting the star and one of the Aussies said it was, “some Star Wars guy or something. Nobody interesting.”
The next day I read in the paper that the new star was for James Doohan. He was there in what will most likely be his last public appearance (he is very ill). Walter Koenig, George Takei and Nichelle Nichols were there also. I’ve been kicking myself for not bodily dragging #1 Son down the street (by the ear if need be). I would have loved to have a picture! I’m not an autograph collector, but I would have made an exception for Nichelle Nichols. Lt. Uhuru — my hero!
And where were Bill Shatner and Leonard Nemoy, one wonders? 
Mom’s take on Hollywood: for the general neighborhood. more for the walk of fame. more for Grauman’s Chinese. Zero for shopping at junk stores.
We drove around Beverly Hills for awhile, looking at the houses and tootling down Rodeo Drive, and then stopped at the Hard Rock Cafe for lunch.
Mom’s take on Hard Rock: Typical pub-type fare. I had a veggie burger that was OK but nothing to write home about. Three stars only because of the guitars and other memorabilia, and because the waiter was exceedingly stoned and therefore amusing in a sick sort of way.
There was a mall next to Hard Rock. It was very up-scale, and didn’t really have any stores that either #1 Son or I wanted to shop in. Why shop in California when most of those store have internet shopping available, and I won’t have to pay sales tax?
Mom’s take on the mall: for #1 Son and I. If you’re a snob or just want to brag that you shopped at Bloomies.
After lunch/shopping, the driver took us over to Santa Monica Pier, where he dropped us off for a couple of hours. He offered to take any of us down to Venice Beach if we wanted to go there. On hindsight, that would have been a better choice for #1 Son and I — more up #1 Son’s alley. But we declined.
We wandered down the length of the pier, looking at general “stuff” as we went. At the end of the pier there was a street musician playing the blues, and we listened to him for awhile. Then we wandered back up. I took the shot of #1 Son on the Pier that I blogged before.
There was a guy fishing right next to where we were standing. He said to #1 Son , “You look like you’re in a band. Anybody I would know or my daughter would know?” There followed a long monologue in which he dropped every Hollywood name he could think of and bragged about all of the people he and his wife had met. He ended by saying that I should send #1 Son over to London where he could see some “real punks that would blow him away.” When we finally managed to extricate ourselves, #1 Son said to me as we walked away, “It’s illegal to fish with that many poles.” I had to laugh.
#1 Son wanted to do more shopping and looking around, but I was feeling shopped out. There was a little coffee place with outdoor tables in the middle of the Pier by the carnival rides. I sat and people-watched while #1 Son wandered around. Then it was time to head back to the park where we were to meet the bus.
Mom’s take on Santa Monica Pier: I’d give it more. But there were a lot of homeless people hanging around in both the park and the Pier, and a lot of guys that looked like gangsters. That sort of killed the tourist appeal for me. I give the rest rooms a big fat zero. They were some of the dirtiest I’ve ever seen.
That was pretty much the end of the tour. We first drove through Santa Monica along the harbor. That was a pretty drive. Then it was back to the hotel.
Mom’s take on the LA Tour: If nothing else, it makes me appreciate living in Oregon. But the driver was funny and knew a lot of stuff and gave us our money’s worth. So it was fun.
Back at the hotel, I really wanted to try Ralph Brennan’s Jazz Kitchen for dinner, but #1 Son wanted only vegetarian. After looking at the menu, there really wasn’t much that #1 Son could eat. (I should have told him, “eat a dinner salad,” but I was nice.) We ended up at Tortialla Joe’s, figuring that #1 Son could at least get a chili relleno or something like that.
Mom’s take on Tortilla Joe’s: Just like any Chevy’s in the world. Unexciting Tex-Mex. We were told the deserts were huge, so we ordered one to split. It was small.
Mom’s take on missing dinner at Ralph Brennan’s Jazz Kitchen: 
After dragging all over LA we were tired. So that was pretty much the end of Day # 3.
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