After being yelled at by an angry tour guide (he looked something like this), we headed downtown on the subway (metro rail, whatever), feeling all big-city and whatnot. Then we acted like the terrible touristy people we are. If you haven't figured it out by now, we like taking this kind of picture:
I've gotten pretty good at the extended-arm camera thing. As good as one can be, anyway. Of course, there are more traditional behind-the-camera shots like this one:
There are some kick-butt fries underneath that chili somewhere. This was our meal at Pink's yesterday around six o'clock. The wait was less than an hour, and everyone in line was commenting on how short the wait was. Crazy, but totally worth it. It's just a roadside stand kind of place, but they've got some ridiculous dogs made with decent chili, the fries are above par, and frankly the option of having three hot dogs, chili, cheese, and onions wrapped in a giant tortilla is pretty much a dream come true. Oh, and they've got cream soda that's to die for.
Oh, and I'm pretty sure that hot dog picture was also an extended-arm shot while I was sitting in my seat. How about this:
Yeah, I'm definitely not in that picture. Anna's doing her Jonah impression at the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels in downtown LA. Interesting place. Across the street (practically) was the Disney Music Hall. It's really shiny. On the other side of the cathedral was this building:
Yeah, I don't know. Again, one of those things I could look up, but I'd just as soon assume it's some kind of penitentiary.
We stayed in the downtown area for quite a while. We came across a Mexican bazaar, where I put "figure out how to make cocadas" on my life to-do list. Blah blah blah. I like pictures. Here's one of a shop in Chinatown:
The picture (surprisingly) doesn't do it justice; there are racks and racks of clothes packed together so tightly that you have to grab a handful and tear them away just to tell what you're looking at. Unfortunately it was all women's clothing; that's why Anna's in the picture, not me. But the weirdest part wasn't the ridiculous amount of clothing, the boxes of clothes stacked ceiling-high on the sides, or that everything was two or three dollars. No, the weirdest part was the half-dozen tripod-mounted speakers throughout the building. Not necessarily weird, but the guy who ran the place was wearing a microphone, and everything he said was transmitted at quite a significant volume into the store. Again, a little weird but not bizarre. Throw in the fact that he was simultaneously haggling with customers and talking with Microsoft tech support regarding his POS computer system (and making snide comments about departing customers under his breath), and you've got yourself an entertaining and squirm-inducing shopping experience.
Pictorial highlights from the rest of yesterday include (in order): our room at the Bungalow, succumbing to the desire to see what rich people buy (in Beverly Hills, by the way, the Mercedes and BMWs are the average cars--we saw a Rolls and a Bentley at the same stoplight), a visual explanation of why I call it The Complex, a hands-on tribute to one of Spokane's own, and a nice relaxing beach scene to put you to sleep. Which is where I'm going, because tomorrow we're going to the coolest place I can think of. Cheers.
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