Weekends of LA

Kanye West once said: “No more parties in LA, please baby no more parties in LA.” Well I beg to differ. California knows how to party. This is the story of my first ten weekends living there.

Week One: Arrival

I reached the coast on the final day of July. Palm trees lined the streets as I pulled into my home for the next month: an airbnb in Santa Monica.

Once full of food & drink I walked to the beach, which looked close but was actually forty-five minutes away. We’re not in New York anymore! A bluff and a highway barred me from reaching the sand.

The next morning I broke fast at the Literati Cafe, its walls full of Hemingways and Kerouacs, before getting a long-overdue car wash and walking the course over at campus. After an early sleep and an early wake, I joined the sea of students entering the UCLA School of Business for the first time.

Week Two: Encore

My time on the west coast had barely begun when it had to stop, as I flew across the country for my friends’ wedding. I touched down in Boston amidst the twilight mist and met my friends at the harborside casino: Encore.

Not up to snuff with Mystique’s dress code, we crossed the hall to drink & dine at a pub. There we caught up before engaging in some light table games, eventually hailing a ride to our hotel in Amesbury.

The sun shone bright on the morning of Justin & Shannon’s wedding. I drank coffee and read Proust in bed before we suited up and headed to lunch in downtown Newburyport. I got a martini, James got a bloody, Liz got sangria, Holz got a beer. We all got oysters & sushi.

In the church we chatted with friends before a hush descended and the ceremony began. The bride & groom’s contagious happiness soon stole over the room.

The ceremony over, we returned to our lunch spot for postgame spritzes before hopping on the bus to the reception at Connemara House Farm. At long last, my class of football teammates reunited. Surrounded by lights & flowers & vines, wine played & music flowed.

The bride and her family led the crowd in song and dance. I danced quite a bit myself, both at the reception and at its afterparty at Brick & Ash back in Newburyport. After it closed for the night, we’d nearly lost hope an uber could be found before one passed us that was half full.

“Could you take a couple more?”
“……..”
“We’ll pay in cash.”
“Load it up.”

The next morning, James Liz and I crossed into New Hampshire to play some cards at what used to be a greyhound racing track. At Logan I popped a quick IPA or two before sailing high above the clouds towards home.

Week Three: All Together

As the sun set on Friday I walked to the Nickel Mine in Sawtelle. As I entered I didn’t see the group of classmates I was meeting, (many of whom I’d never met), but Kush found me as I ordered an old fashioned at the bar. “Dude we were saying your name but you just walked right past!”

I switched to beer as a bunch more classmates arrived, meeting many new faces. Soon we left for the Brig in Venice and found friends near the front of line, cutting nearly everybody. I suppose all’s fair in love, war, and getting into bars.

Our class monopolized nearly the whole patio area, over a hundred flocking based on word of mouth. We chatted a lot, we danced a bit, we made it home in late night lyfts.

The next day I sported my Jack of Hearts tee to meet my section at Santa Monica Brew Works. (for context, my class of three-fifty is divided into five sections of seventy, with whom you take all your core classes). Spent most of the afternoon seated, the lone North American at a table with four South Americans. As twilight approached, Abby invited the remaining group to Father’s Office and thus I found myself in Culver City.

I pioneered the martini movement, and thankfully someone remembered to pioneer the food movement. Afterwards we had a quick pregame for a concert in DTLA, at which the doorman wouldn’t let me in on account of my sandals, so I moped my way to a bus back down Wilshire.

The next day I met some classmates for games in the park but felt like these fine fellows and left and, for the first time since I’d arrived in LA, made it to the beach to be soothed by the waves.

Week Four: Hurricane

I missed Boston so much I had to see it again. Or rather, I had another friend getting married.

Woke up on Friday, took an accounting midterm, worked on a group project, then sent it right to the airport. Hordes of boats loitered outside the Port of Los Angeles as we rose high into the clouds. I ponied up for wifi to complete an apartment application. Touching down after midnight, I fell asleep the moment I hit the airport hotel’s sheets.

On our drive the next morning to Western Mass, Erica & Mike told me that as I’d been flying east, strong winds had been flying north. Hurricane Henri was expected to hit on Sunday morning, but I put off my anxiety and felt only the comfort of being back in the New England woods. Not long after crossing the French King Bridge, we reached our hotel near the fairgrounds.

Justin & Shannon, fresh off their honeymoon, were first to the ceremony. “You guys! Get over here quick, there’s a horse-drawn carriage!” Turns out the carriage was for another event and not our wedding party, but even it could not have made the wedding feel more pure. Subie played host as we arrived, before switching to play groom, then husband, then bacchant. He’d already been playing father for months and friend for years.

The ceremony was simple & cute; the couple made our hearts feel full of <3. Photos taken, the groom changed out of his suit as we all relaxed and played lawn games, eating from food trucks. As night gathered we danced beneath the tent.

Now about that hurricane. Justin & Holz drove straight home from the wedding—the latter all the way to New York—to avoid being caught out in it. As for me, there was little I could do besides wait and cross my fingers, though my flight surprisingly hadn’t been cancelled yet.

Mike & Erica & I drove back early the next morning. I half expected it to already be raining, but in fact it was very clear to start, dawn breaking like any other day. Yet as we got close to Boston, the air grew heavy and it soon rained and gusted. I went right to the airport to get on standby for an earlier flight, but sadly didn’t make it on. Then I noticed that flights weren’t really getting cancelled; indeed it turned out the worst of the storm had missed us. I made it out right on time.

Week Five: All Alone

On Thursday I felt a vague sense of fomo, having been away two of three weekends and having missed an outing the prior night. Walking alone on the beach after class, I messaged my learning team, (with whom you do all your group projects to start), about what’s up for the night and quickly got a response from Alex: “Q’s!!!!!!!”

Thus I found myself on the border of Brentwood & Santa Monica at Q’s Billiard Club, a UCLA staple know to have been frequented by such poker stars as Brad Owen. Upon arrival I recognized Will from my section seated outside with his dog and invited myself to join.

Others trickled in in a steady stream until it felt as if the whole class was there and I bounced around between faces familiar & new. Nearly all my learning team made it and we did end up playing a bit of pool. When Q’s closed we went downstreet to Thunderbird, swapping billiards for dancing.

“Lyle we’re going to leave”
“I’ll stop when they close the place.”

That’s what I did, and I woke up halfway through accounting class the next morning. Luckily it was on zoom. The instant it ended I grabbed a breakfast burrito and went to the beach.

I had little social energy left that night and dined alone at Earth, Wind, and Flour. Of the playing cards decorating the ceiling, I spied one or two Jack of Hearts.

The next day I spent at a ropes course event on campus and, exhausted by the end, spent a second straight night in decompression. This time I did so at Busby’s West, where my server and I bonded over astrology and being from the same neighborhood in Chicago, amongst other things.

The sun set and I went home.

Week Six: Vegas on Acid

On Friday morning I awoke in a pallet, having finally moved into a full-time apartment but still awaiting a mattress to be delivered. About five hours after driving out I’d arrived in Vegas, passing the welcome sign on my way to the MGM Grand. I was the first of six college friends to arrive, but Will & Dante joined me before the sun set, we three dining in the Mirage at Heritage Steak. The seafood tower, the fat steaks, and most of all the martinis put us in a good mood.

One volcanic eruption later, we crossed the street to Venice. Alcoholic slushies in hand, we kicked off the gambling with roulette, which Dante crushed by hitting 21. Jacob arrived as we sat down to play poker, though we left after a quick session to meet the final two boys back at the MGM. They were finishing a heater at craps, after which we set off, united at last, for the Cosmopolitan to be suspended amongst the glittering lights of its Chandelier Bar.

The three east coast boys tired after a little blackjack, so the three of us west coasters hit the Bellagio poker room, the center of the poker universe. A shitfaced guy at my table was throwing chips around, my patience rewarded when I got him to go all-in with middle pair against my three-of-a-kind.

James and I rode back to the MGM as the sun came up, passing Paris as pink stole over blue.

The next morning I slept in before meeting the others at Caesar’s sportsbook. Placed some bets on UCLA and Georgia before sitting down at the adjacent poker room, where James & Jacob were deeply engaged at tables of their own. In my biggest hand of the afternoon I flopped two pair of Aces & Kings, my opponent and I getting all our chips in the middle. He missed his flush draw and lo & behold, I had my first-ever pyramid!

I cashed out to watch some football, hi-fiving Bulldog fans as Georgia scored, jumping up and down as UCLA’s TE broke an incredible game-tying touchdown. Then we went to freshen up for dinner at Craftsteak, though not before being fanned in palatial fashion. At dinner they gave us the royal treatment, wheeling out a massive spread as we toasted to our continued friendship.

Afterwards we’d planned to all hit Old Vegas but there was one complicating factor: a Mr. Harry Styles, whose MGM concert ended just as we were trying to leave. The west coast boys, having left as a first wave, made it out only after crossing the street to hail a cab from the Tropicana. The east coast boys were not so lucky, and thus only me James and Cody made it to Fremont Street.

Man that place was wild — full LED sky, zipliners whizzing by, bars on the streetside. At the Golden Nugget we sampled craps before sitting down at its famous uncapped 1/2 poker game. This session didn’t go so well financially, James’s full house losing to a higher full house, but we had a fun table at which one guy played nearly every hand while hamming it up. We ended the night by exploring Circa before a nightcap & peoplewatch at the MGM’s tableside bar.

The next day we didn’t even leave the MGM, starting the day with Wet Republic after Dante flaunted a speedo by the lazy river, a consequence of his last-place finish in last year’s fantasy football season. At the pool party we sipped massive piña coladas, Martin Garrix coming on as we danced beside the pool, inside the pool, and stageside. Afterwards, Jacob walked back to the room sporting little more than a bathing suit and a KN95.

That night we drafted this year’s fantasy teams to burgers & beer, afterwards listening to music, with this lyric especially getting stuck in our heads:

“Close your eyes and imagine, feel the magic. Vegas on acid, seen through Yves Saint Laurent glasses.”

After playing roulette with a certified crazy person who put huge stacks on single numbers, (mind you, he actually did hit once), we arrived to our table at Hakkasan, at which we made a couple friends and saw a couple rappers.

The next day we all went our separate ways: to SLC, to NYC, to Maine and LA. Thanks to the sportsbook, I left cash-wise with the same amount of money I’d arrived with, and so the weekend felt like a win.

Week Seven: MGM Residency

The Chainsmokers have a residency at the Wynn, Bruno Mars has a residency at the Park MGM, and I have a residency at the MGM Grand. At least that’s what it felt like, staying there for five nights in ten days.

This time I went with my UCLA class, waking up Saturday in my brand new mattress and arriving to Vegas by 1pm. One of my three roommates, none of whom I’d met yet, came down to get me a key. Then I walked past the same fountain to the same elevator bank to the same floor to the same hallway to the same roo—

No, it wasn’t the same room as last week. But it was directly across the hall. I’d gone from room 115 to 116.

Dropping my things, I took a quick four-hour poker sesh downstairs. I saw some classmates pass by, but others saw me: “Lyle you looked soo focused, and with the serious gamblers!”

The festivities began with a group dinner at Hencho En Vegas, followed by a taste of roulette and a pregame in someone’s room. We arrived at Omnia to a crowd of classmates surrounding the entrance. Soon we’d proceeded to our corner skybox, which hung right over Illenium’s stage, and from which Kelly spotted me from the floor. The lights display made my jaw drop over and again, and when I wanted a break all I had to do was walk outside to the terrace where more friends had more tables and rap music accompanied a beautiful view of the strip. I danced inside & outside, below & above, closing out the night in the skybox.

Heading to bed I discovered one tiny problem: both queen beds were full. After all, we were jamming four people in each room. It wouldn’t have been such a problem had I discussed sleeping arrangements, or at least met all my roommates, but here we were. So I opted for the floor. Unfortunately though, the closet didn’t have any spare covers, so I went downstairs to ask the front desk for more.

“Yep we’ll get that for you.”
“Any idea when they’ll be ready by?”
“No. That’s hospitality — totally different division from mine.”
“Well it’s 5am and I have to sleep.”
“I donno man, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

I went upstairs to wait, sitting outside so as to prevent a knock on the door from waking up my roommates. Thirty minutes later a security guard came across me lying on the floor.

“Are.. you ok?”
“Yes…” I told her of my situation.
“Well I can put you on the line with hospitality.”

So she did, and I talked to them, but soon tired of waiting and went to bed on the floor inside. They never came.

My room stirred at around 8am.

“Lyle why are you sleeping on the floor?”
”Well…” I explained the above events.
”You should have just gotten into bed with us!”

So I hopped in and it was glorious, those few hours of comfy sleep a godsend before our day at Encore Beach Club. Our class had booked daybeds galore and a few lilypads along with. We ended up taking over the far side of the pool, I spending so much time in the water that stepping out I stumbled readjusting to gravity.

Alesso’s show over, Eli & I went inside to Encore for some roulette. He promptly doubled up as I promptly busted, so as a team we broke even. Then Abhinand found us and we walked across the street to sample the Resorts World food court. Eating my rice & pork I thought Eli’s fried chicken sandwich just looked too damn good, and so I got a second meal as we watched Justin Fields score his first NFL touchdown.

Back at the MGM I was ready to call it a night and indeed hung out with a small group watching The Proposal in their room. Ready for sleep and returning to mine, Aseem and Abhinand were there chatting, fresh off their naps, and the energy started to build. “Wanna go downstairs and just walk around?” “Sure, why not”

Within five minutes we came across a group we knew and accompanied them to the tables. This time playing roulette we stayed alive for quite a while, alternating between bets on black and playing the field. After a whiskey break, we closed out the night with one final run that ended around 4am.

The next morning I cruise controlled through clear roads out of the desert.

Week Eight: ⛵️

For Joe’s birthday we headed out to sea. His girlfriend Hannah had planned a sunset boat cruise, for which we ubered from Brentwood to Marina Del Rey, pizzas in hand.

Setting off from the dock, was passed a bougie cocktail party hailing from Newport Beach (its ship named Legend), as well as some undergrad UCLA rowers.

Our ship began by wandering back and forth within the marina, we hanging abovedeck to admire two paddleboarders, three seals, a treehouse boat, a yacht club, and the Ritz-Carlton. As the sun sank we turned for open sea.

There we saw freighters, stained rocks, and helicopters, whilst waving at passing sailboats and seagulls alike. The horizon exuded colors of the rainbow as the burning orb sank lower in the sky, quickly sinking beneath the sea sans a green flash.

Moments after disembarking, two dudes in the parking lot asked:
“Did you feel it?”
“Feel what?”
“The earthquake!”

Apparently a tiny one had hit moments before we’d reached shore.

We kept the party going in Venice, first at the Waterfront and then at the Brig, standing in line while friends whizzed by on Birds. We capped the night with a taco truck and Nikhil’s apt exclamation that “sometimes I feel like I get drunk just for the satisfaction of late night burritos”

The next night I arrived to the early stages of a birthday party, standing with Eli as he told me of that day’s excursion to LA Beer Fest and ate Chipotle with a golden fork. As the place filled up I bounced around: photobombing here, posing there. Nearly the whole party stood around the TV as UCLA football took the late lead only to blow it versus Fresno State.

The next morning I ate a muffin before vegging at the beach.

Week Nine: Marathon

On Thursday night I stepped out of my ride to an event in Santa Monica that was at capacity, so the other rejectees & I audibled to a bar nearby. Later we met back up with the rest of the class at the Bungalow — which feels to me like the Parker House of LA — we passing a ghost house en route. In now-typical fashion, we commandeered a whole room and ended the night at a taco truck.

The next day our section president hosted us in Playa Del Rey. Walking past rows of spanish-style houses and lemon trees on the way to the beach, I felt as if in Mexico. We played volleyball but mercifully didn’t keep score (or count how many times I shanked it into the crowd). I spent the rest of the time in conversation, too engrossed (or tired?) to even dip in the water. The nuclear sunset sundered night from day.

On our way to a rooftop pool party, Hannah somehow kept her eyes on the road despite Baby Yoda dancing in the front seat. We were perhaps the only ones there sporting full pool attire in lieu of eveningwear, but did put it to some use thanks to a hot tub downstairs.

My towel made the rounds on that cool LA night as we got into some tequila and some fireside chats. For the first time since New York, I felt peaceful looking out at the cars in traffic. As midnight approached, I realized I hadn’t eaten since before the beach, and so walked to the closest food I could find: Bossa Nova. Place was lowkey popping and I 10/10 would return in a less-tired state of mind.

The next day I attended a daytime pool party, this time shared with LA locals — a rarity for us academia nerds. Unfortunately the TV showing UCLA versus Stanford got shut off for most of the second half, but who cares cause I got to meet an instagram-famous dog.

We kept things going into the night, ending it in Brentwood. The next day I left my apartment only once: to get a breakfast burrito.

Week Ten: Learning Team Love

As part of onboarding we’d discussed our cultural backgrounds with a randomized group, and my group had decided to keep the conversation going by meeting for dinner. Keeping on-theme, everyone brought a dish reflecting their upbringing. Alex W made spam musubi, Morgan brought pão de queijo, Rashi supplied samosas, Blake made senza al pesto, and I made grits & gin martinis.

The next day I met my learning team at Caldwell’s house for a (hand-baked) pizza party. He served up margherita; mushroom & brie; diavola; caramelized onion & chorizo; and finally Hot Mess, which features caramelized onion, bacon, jalapeno, & gruyere.

As team Vibe Setter, I handled the beats. You may think: now how did Lyle become official team Vibe Setter? Well, at the beginning of the year, a school deliverable asked each learning team to assign roles; we were to distribute between Meeting Facilitator, Time Keeper, Assignment Consolidator, Monitor of Group Dynamics, and Devil’s Advocate. The only problem is, our team operates in a very intuitive and decentralized way, and thus hardly sticks to those roles. Instead, we made some up that more appropriately describe each of our contributions: Caldwell the Energizer Bunny, Kelly the Silent Assassin, Joaquin the Moral Compass, Alex M the Puppeteer, and Lyle the Vibe Setter.

We washed down the cheesy bread with wine and a tiny shot of pisco. Then I took a quick dip at the beach before meeting my brother Johnny at a restaurant by my apartment. We began with cocktails and quickly progressed to champagne. Eats-wise, I seem to remember our having Polipo and Polpettine, followed by Fusilli and Sogliola.

After dessert, he returned to Pasadena as I met some classmates at a birthday party. A festive crowd, both at the main party and the after.

The next day, we’d been slated to tailgate the UCLA versus ASU game, but that got cancelled thanks to a shortage of local bus drivers. Instead, I went to a watch party at Busby’s. It was nothing crazy — we watched a bit, ate and drank a bit, played a bit of darts.

The next day was a beautiful Sunday and I drove back leisurely from a lunch, enjoying the sound of football and the beaming sun.