Chapter 4: The Art of Killing Time
Pop quiz, hotshot: you have approximately eight or nine hours to kill in Southern California before you have to pick up your wife and son at LAX. You have three teenagers with you and one of them is only going to be with you for two more days before she has to fly back home. What do you do?
Well, first you eat lunch. It was here that I thought long and hard about making a stop at In-n-Out for burgers, but I had timed reservation tickets for the afternoon and the only In-n-Out was in the opposite direction. So we ended up breaking out the PB&J supplies while we drove.
Given my family’s reputation for high art and culture, you’ve probably already guessed where we were heading for the afternoon—
The Getty Center, located in Brentwood Heights (west of downtown Los Angeles).
Ok, so I don’t normally spend a lot of time in art museums. The reason I chose this one is because Sarah is a graphic design major, has been taking a lot of art classes, and has been spending a good amount of time exploring the Philadelphia Art Museum over the last couple of years. The Getty is a pretty famous art museum as well so I thought this would be something she could enjoy during her brief time with us. The rest of us could either appreciate or make fun of the art as we saw fit.
We drove up the dreaded 405 freeway (Alison told us they call it that because it takes “four o’ five hours to get wherever you’re going”) but somehow managed to avoid anything except the briefest of delays. Soon we were parking in an underground garage and heading to the surface to catch a Not-A-Monorail that would carry us up the hill to the museum.
The museum is housed in a series of very modern cubist buildings on the southern slopes of the Santa Monica Mountains, overlooking Century City to the south. I’ve never been a huge fan of modern architecture, but the grounds are really quite striking and beautiful.
If you’ve read my earlier trip reports, you may recall that I have a certain inviolable rule about art, and as yet I have found no exceptions to the rule. It stems from the basic fact that I have no artistic talent whatsoever. Therefore, the Captain_Oblivious Law of Art is as follows: if it looks like something I could do, it’s not art.
The idea here is that I don’t necessarily have to like something for it to qualify as art. I’m not a big fan of Picasso, for example. But I also don’t think I could reproduce his work. So the bottom line is that the work should at least look like it was made by someone with a modicum of talent.
Now with that setup out of the way, I need to immediately disappoint you if you were expecting lots of photos of crappy paintings with me cracking wise on them. I looked through my photo album and realized I don’t have any egregious examples of terrible art to poke fun at. I’ll try and do better next time.
Part of the reason for this may be that the Getty collection is just very nice. And part of the reason may be that I was just enjoying walking through and listening to Sarah. She talked about the different styles as we went through the rooms, how this period was characterized by dramatic use of light and so on. I don’t know how much I absorbed as we walked, but I really appreciated her enthusiasm, as well as the fact that she was clearly paying attention in the classes we’re paying outrageous sums of money for. I guess it’s a good lesson that anything can be interesting when you’re with someone who has knowledge and enthusiasm about the subject. I’m sure that’s exactly how you all feel whenever I start talking about golf courses.
I enjoyed this painting on the ceiling of one of the entryways we walked through:
I really enjoyed the beautiful California weather and the setting. There were ample opportunities to walk outside, feel the sea breeze, and enjoy the view of Century City (not LA) from the balcony.
There’s a small garden area for guests to enjoy as well.
One ledge held up a unique cactus garden.
We took our time wandering the gardens and exhibits. I think we spent a total of 2-3 hours there, so it was a decent chunk of the afternoon. It’s one of the better deals in California in that the only charge was for roughly $20 for parking. Otherwise, the grounds and museum are free. Would I go every time? Probably not. Am I glad we visited? Yes.
We weren’t quite ready to eat yet, so we decided on the spur of the moment to make the short drive over to the campus of the
University of California-Los Angeles (UCLA). We thought we’d wander there much as we’d done the previous day at USC. We had to drive around for a bit to find a parking lot. When we started walking the campus appeared to be much more urban in nature.
It took us a while to realize that we’d parked way over on the western/back half of the campus where most of the residential buildings were. We had to hike for a while to get to the main campus, which looked much more like a traditional college campus. I believe everyone preferred USC’s campus to this one, however.
We stopped in the bookstore just for something to do. Remember my buddy Steve, who had me get the USC football for him? Well, my kids found a little plush UCLA football and told me I should bring that one back as well and give it to Steve first. Would I blow five bucks just for a stupid little gag?
Absolutely I would.
By now we were getting hungry for dinner, so we drove into the town of Santa Monica and pulled into a parking garage at 9th St. and Broadway for a meal at
Pono Burger. There was a sign in the garage saying that parking was only for residents of the apartment complex there or for patrons of Pono Burger, and that the restaurant would validate our parking. Good to know.
The burger joint is a fun little spot that I happened to stumble upon while searching Trip Advisor for places to eat in Santa Monica. I was sold on it when I learned that a) they serve giant homemade burgers and milkshakes, and b) the restaurant is located in an old military-style Quonset hut.
That’s pretty much all you need to draw me in—greasy comfort food and a quirky atmosphere.
I ordered the “Paniolo burger”, which consisted of a beef patty, cheddar, beer-battered onion rings and a “Kona coffee bourbon BBQ” sauce. Nothing to complain about here—it was really tasty! The hardest part was figuring out how to take a bite out of it.
I don’t recall what everyone else ordered, but I believe they had a special hot chicken sandwich that appealed to at least a couple of them. We also had to get some milkshakes and fries for the table. One of these was a vanilla shake with hot fudge and “cacao nibs” (whatever that means) and the other was a classic Oreo shake. Both did not last long at all. I had to fight just to get a couple of sips.
I know what you’re asking—was Pono Burger worthy of a Drooling Homer Award for Excellence in Unpretentious Dining?
Judging from everyone’s reaction to the meal: yes, yes it was.
After the meal was done, we asked our server where the best place was to park if we wanted to walk on the famous Santa Monica Pier. He told us just to leave our car where it was in the restaurant/apartment garage.
“I know they have that sign there, but it’s just to scare people,” he said. “Nobody enforces it.”
Sweet! Free parking in Santa Monica.
We walked several blocks down to the pier. That was probably better than driving since we needed to work off those milkshake calories.
Even on an overcast evening, the pier was a popular and crowded place. I’d obviously seen it on TV before but didn’t quite know what I was expecting. Basically, if you’ve ever visited a beach with a boardwalk area consisting of greasy concession stands, cheap souvenir shops, and amusement rides, then you’ve seen the same thing you’d find here.
There were a few photo spots where you could commemorate reaching the end of the famous Route 66. If, you know, you’d actually driven the whole thing.
We reached the end of the pier and were able to look back towards the shore. I would not recommend waiting in a long line for that roller coaster. In person, it looked less thrilling than the Barnstormer.
Not being in a rush, we wandered back down and walked along the sand for a while. We felt a few drops of rain but it never really let loose, for which we were very thankful.
Have you seen those rental bikes that have been popping up in cities around the country? The idea is that you have central bike racks where you can swipe your card or use an app to rent a bike to get around town and then return it to the closest rack when you’re done with it. They seemed very prevalent in Santa Monica, especially for use on a bike path that meandered along the coast. As we walked along the path, we crossed a drainage basin that had at least 3 of those rental bikes thrown into the water.
There has to be a story there. There was a high fence covered in netting surrounding the basin that seemed specifically designed to keep people and debris out. So in order to get not one, not two, but three rental bikes in there you would really need to be determined. I hope the end goal was worth the effort. Like, a gang that had been using rental bicycles to menace the citizens of Santa Monica was finally defeated here.
Or somebody was really stoned. Either way, I don’t think they’re getting their deposit back.
We walked back through town to collect our car. The kids were begging for a coffee stop, so we found a Fivebucks along the way. It was about ten minutes before they closed, so I’m sure the workers were thrilled to see us come in and place a bunch of drink orders.
Coffee urges sated, we got back to the van and drove to LAX to pick up Julie and Drew. It was getting close to 10 p.m. local time, and they were on east coast time, so I knew they’d be tired. But with a flight getting in that late at night, I figured we’d just zip in, grab them and be on our way.
What I learned was that LAX never sleeps. There are five lanes in the road that horseshoes around the arrival gate, and they were all packed with wall-to-wall cars, all jockeying for position depending on whether they were trying to get close to or away from the gates. It was a zoo. I don’t know how we ever found Julie and Drew, but somehow they eventually ended up in our van.
Now that we had the band back together, we had to drive another hour and change through the night to Oxnard. We drove over the mountains, and I’m sure it was very scenic but we couldn’t see a thing. The important thing is that we made it. That way Julie and Drew could settle in and get plenty of sleep before our…
…um…
…6:00 a.m. wake-up time.
Who planned this, anyway?
Coming Up Next: There are two stages of seasickness. In the first stage, you are afraid you’re going to die. In the second stage, you are afraid that you won’t.
) so I think it’s pretty cool you got to see this stadium. 
Are you sensing a pattern here that I get all my sports information from the local news?
). I knew it was special because he kept mentioning it. Now I understand better why it was so special!
