Writers of Babylon

After all the Writers of the Future festivities were over, Mark, Arthur and I (well, OK, mostly Mark) dragged Aliette around LA on tourist adventures.

The tram ride downtown was pleasant, and then we tried to get on a bus. It more-or-less slammed in our faces and we were forced to walk a distance before another non-express bus picked us up. Eventually, we wound up at La Brea Tar Pits. The diorama of the mother mammoth sinking into the pits in front of a horrified baby and father mammoth was a bit much.

We went on the Miracle Mile in an attempt to help Aliette find a gift for her father. Instead we found (well, OK, it was Mark who said, "Honey, I found it") a $4000 California king bed with a purple velvet frame and golden Babalonian cows flanking its sides.

The bed was right up there with the ATHLETE lunar robot. (Pause to imagine being carried around town in the Bed of the Golden Calves by an ATHLETE...) But it was too expensive to buy and ship.

Ah well, we would have been hanging laundry on the horns once the novelty of sleeping between golden calves wore off. And we would have had to re-decorate our entire house.