I’d been staying at the Chateau Marmont on Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles where an old friend had recently been hired as the new general manager. It was nearly check-out time out when my friend came to my bungalow and, seeing how I hadn’t even started packing, said I could stay an extra day on him as long as I promised to be out by by 6 p.m. the following day.
Shortly after, another friend pulled up in front of my bungalow with his new luxury sports car and asked if I wanted to go for a ride.
We drove around, often at speeds exceeding 130 kilometers per hour, and I was both shocked and awestruck by the power of this car, so much so I was scared that we’d either crash or be caught speeding by the police.
At one point I almost asked if I could drive, realizing my friend would never know I didn’t have a driver’s license.
Afterwards, my friend dropped me off at the bungalow and I decided to pack and load my things in the back of my car.
Once I finished, I walked back into the valley where I ran into my uncle Art who was incensed at the sight of me, angry because he found out that I had been in L.A. for weeks recording my new album and hadn’t gotten in touch with anyone in the family.
Unfazed by my uncle’s berating, I walked away and headed for the department store where my mother and aunt worked as I needed to buy a dress shirt, having forgotten I had dinner plans with Lily and didn’t have time to return to the bungalow for a change of clothes.
I walked into the department store and right past my mother who was standing at the service desk talking to two colleagues. However, my aunt saw me and observed how I had deliberately avoided my mother and started to approach me.
Seeing her coming towards me out of the corner of my eye, I started walking faster and eventually lost her as I darted through the crowd of shoppers.
Eventually, my aunt caught up with me and told me how disappointed she was that I hadn’t called anyone but understood that I was busy with my new album and that I was trying to make a bit of honeymoon out of the trip with Lily.
She said uncle Art felt bad that he had confronted me the way he did, but he was hurt and reacted in the passion of the moment.
To make amends, she told me he and my cousin Neil had driven over to the bungalow to pick up my suitcases as sort of an olive branch for his behavior earlier.
Not having remembered that I had already packed and checked out, I decided to take a taxi back to the bungalow to head them off.
When I arrived at the bungalow, the door was open and a maid was busy cleaning inside. Just then I remembered I had already packed up my car so I walked to the parking lot only to find my car empty. It was apparent that my uncle and cousin had already been there and had taken my things over to their house.
I stood in the street looking into the back of my empty Volvo station wagon and as the taxi drove away I remembered I had packed the keys into my shoulder bag.
Then I woke up.
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