I work and live in Hollywood. The other day Eddie Izzard jogged past me down Hollywood Boulevard. Glamorous types hike with their even more glamorous dogs at a site near my house where Errol Flynn used to live. Silent movie stars built my apartment building. I work on a major studio lot where George Clooney and Brad Pitt can be seen regularly. Famous writers, former studio heads, and pushy producers come into my offices every day for meetings. It's so omnipresent that it's old hat. I forget that some folks might think these things are interesting until I mention it casually to someone not in the industry and see their eyes light up.
So what charmed me this weekend? Hanging with my friend's twin boys at Sea World.
Yes folks, it's the anti-glamour of captive marine mammals, hot sun, and five year old boys who each must have their own ice cream bar shaped like Shamu.
I have mixed feelings about places like Sea World. The seal/sea lion exhibit was awfully small for the eight animals they had cooped up in there. I was relieved to hear during the dolphin show that the dolphins had been born there, but the enormous pilot whales could barely turn around in the pool they kept them in, pre-show. I silently prayed that when they are not performing, they have a much larger world to swim in.
But those twin boys were shivering with delight as they watched the whales splash the audience with their enormous tails. At one point, one of the boys, exhausted from all the excitement, came over and draped himself over me, the way my elderly cat does when he wants to cuddle, and nearly fell asleep.
I'm sure I don't really need to expand on the sweet charm of such a moment. It blows seeing Eddie Izzard in a bright blue jogging suit out of the water. No offense, Eddie.
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