The “Out of Towners”

We are the very definition of Einstein's insanity, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.  We are also the quintessential California experience, because this is where all those mind-altering cults like "est" began, where it's all about long hours and food depravation and denying bathroom breaks.

We were excited to meet Jim's friend Tom tonight, the Supervising Editor of the new documentary called "Making Waves."

But we decided it was more fun to watch a bunch of foreigners snap photos of McDonald's on Hop On/Hop Off  then it was to allow ourselves ample time to have a meal ourselves, so we figured we'd grab a quick bite when the film ended just shy of 9:00 PM..and as a back up, we learned that our hotel's restaurant stays open until 10 for dining, til 11:00 for late-night snacks.

So after fighting LA traffic that had us convinced we'd miss both dinner and the event, we finally arrive at the exciting USC campus, cluttered with enthusiastic students who attend the number one film school in the country.

If Evan had an interest in film, I would have paid someone to fudge his SATs(although they were pretty impressive on their own right) or photoshop him as captain of his high school's fencing team if he wanted to come here.  I think he's more of a computer guy who has an interest in pop culture that centers around BoJack Horseman and Quentin Tarantino. This would not have been an issue for either of us,

So we sit in our reserved seats in this lovely theater and Tom introduces us to his colleagues who are also professors at USC's film school, and he tells us there will be a Q&A with people associated with the doc after it's shown.

What we weren't told was the Q&A session would last longer than the film itself did, and we couldn't grab Tom's attention to tell him we were leaving, because he was a panelist on the stage.

The movie is called "Making Waves" and it's all about making sounds in the movies, which is exactly what I started doing about a third of the way through.

My stomach was growling like Chewbacca(just around the time we learned how he got his unique sound) and there was no food in sight.  On top of that, the sciatica was so severe that I just wanted to scream out and scare the crap out of the audience of eager film students.

Instead, I rumble around in my 80 pound handbag for the only thing in there that felt like it could give me any relief at all..

Without a drop of water, I swallowed an Oxycodin like a typical LA starlet who needed to get high at a film premiere.

Jim whispers:  "What did you just take??  I heard you rumbling in the bag" and I whisper in an even lower voice, "you don't want to know."

All the students who deserved to be there more than we did--the students who had dinner and had control over their bodily noises were totally losing their shit over the vIP speaker, a guy who Roger Ebert called the best sound editor in the business, a guy named Walter Murch who won Oscars for "Apocalypse Now" and "The English Patient."

They acted like I'd act if Lauren Graham made a sudden appearance, and they certainly had the right to pepper him with questions, even 'though Jim heard his every answer as "hamburger."

We finally get out of there after ninety minutes, apologizing to Tom for not eating and running, lose and then find our Uber, and then, like Jack Lemmon in "The Out-of-Towners"  Jim calls our hotel only to discover all options for food were closed.

He looks at me and says that he's not going to bed without dinner, he's not getting a wake-up call to take us to the airport on an empty stomach.

He reads the same blog as you guys read, he does, and he suggests:

"Our only option is In and Out Burger"

I told him our only option is starvation.

He says there's always Denny's or a Pizza Hut delivery: I respond with "there's always starvation."

So after nearly thirty years of marriage, my better half wises up and finds the perfect diner in North Hollywood that was open for 24 hours.

We update the Uber and arrive at our very friendly destination, a place called "No Ho."

It worked out fine..homemade soup and hearty sandwiches and a wonderful waitress who didn't charge for our shared slice of lemon meringue pie because it was "three days old."

There was great 70's music on the jukebox, happy patrons, a sated Jim, and then there was  me..still on my Oxytocin high.

See you in Hawaii!