Getting lost on purpose isn't as easy as you'd think it would be. I drove a good ten miles up Santa Monica Blvd and made a right onto Avenue of the Stars, hoping to come across some Hollywood-ish sites. Somehow, a few short minutes later, I ended up on Santa Monica Blvd again.

After a good twenty minutes of zig-zagging my way across countless residential and business streets, I finally had no idea where I was or how to get back. Perfect.

A few short turns later, I accidentally found the world famous Hollywood sign, sitting on that hillside only a mile or so directly ahead of me. It's a strange feeling seeing it in person. It looked fake. The sign and the hill itself actually seemed to have been painted onto something, as if it wasn't the Hollywood sign, but maybe one of those movie sets where all they build is the what the camera sees, and it's held up from behind with metal poles and rope. Yet there it was. Awesome.

I eventually found my way to Rodeo Drive, where a person like me probably couldn't afford one button off an Armani suit. I was rather surprised to see a shop owned by Porsche, on Via Rodeo, a quaint little cobblestone street. Recently starting their own line of bicycles, a thick, sturdy yellow bike stood at a 45 degree angle in the front window. Retail value: $6,000.

I walk inside the store and point out the bike. "How many seconds does it take to go from 0 to 60?", I ask a salesperson. She replies, "Well, how fast can you peddle?".

Keep in mind that if you plan on visiting Rodeo Drive, every public parking lot has valet parking. "No, no, no. You can't park it yourself. That's what we're here for, sir." First time on my whole trip someone else has driven my car. Man.... he broke my driving record. Now I'll have to start in DC all over again. (grumble)

I also managed to find my way to Beverly Hills, land of million-dollar homes and residence to countless celebrities. Dozens of palm trees line the sidewalks, just as I'd always imagined. I slowed down a few times to look at houses and simply admire the scenery. The world-famous Beverly Hills Hotel passed by near a stop light, and I suddenly had a flashback of Eddie Murphy sticking a banana in someone's tailpipe. I stopped for one last photo of Beverly Hills before heading back to the hostel.

Yes, tonight's another night of wandering through the Third Street Prominade. Partly because it's easily within walking distance, and partly because I really don't feel like driving anywhere tonight.

I'd like to point out the talents of a 28 year old musician named Rich Smith. Rich is one of the many street performers at the Prominade, but he has a subtle difference. He's remarkable. He sits at a blue sky/rainbow theme-painted upright piano in a black tux, and plays so hard and so fast, you'd swear the keys are going to catch fire. Yet, it's just another night here on Third, playing for the crowds with every fiber in his soul, hoping to make a few bucks from donations or the sale of his debut CD, "The Giant Forest", inspired by the Giant Forest in Sequoia National Park, California. He started piano lessons at the young age of five, and later on enrolled at Boston's Berklee College of Music for 2 1/2 years. Performing his own music, which he often composes impromtu, he seems to have mastered his craft to the point of awe. Someone visit this guy's website (http://www.richsmith.com) and sign him up for a solo performance at Carnegie Hall. Standing ovation guaranteed.

I'm leaving Los Angeles tomorrow, thus adding one extra day between here and San Francisco. I hate being in a rush, and I think it'd be a nice drive along the coastline. Until then...

See you on the road...

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