So last week as we were roaming around Southern California, we stopped by Beverly Hills for the night. My wife had an appointment with her dermatologist, Zein Obagi, and she wanted to do some shopping at some of her favorite spots along Rodeo Drive.

We ended up staying at this cute little boutique hotel that we used to frequent back in the day when I was running MySpace San Francisco and would have to make weekly trips down to Maple Drive to visit the MySpace headquarters. The Crescent Hotel is an icon in Beverly Hills, having been there since 1927.

With traffic, it took us *forever* to finally get there, and eventually I had to get off of the 405 and just take Sepulveda into Santa Monica We did get there though, and we checked in and got ourselves all settled.

I then took my wife to her doctor appointment, and while she was having her face replastered, I wandered off looking for a watering hole to quench my thirst. After drifting several city blocks, I eventually stumbled upon a nice Mexican cantina called Frida (yes, like the tragic artist). It was definitely Margarita time!

I slugged down two, maybe three, margaritas, talked chit chat with the bartender, and made my way back to pick up the wife. She of course walked out of the Obagi office with a year’s worth of skin supplies.

At that point, we drove over to Chanel, Louis Vuitton, blah blah blah. You know, all of those stores. I of course just loitered outside, as I really do not like shopping, especially shopping in stores that sell way overpriced goods. She bought a few things here and there, and then we headed back to our hotel room, where we cleaned up so that we could go get some dinner. Of course I told her that I knew just the place, a place called Frida…

The fajitas were awesome, the street corn was awesome, and the margaritas were awesome. For $150, it had to be awesome, otherwise why in the hell would you pay $150 for Mexican food? We hung out for quite some time, and then decided to call it a night and went back to our room.

Of course, while in our room, I had to go out occasionally to have a cigarette, and no cigarette is complete without a drink in hand, so each time I went out to have a smoke, I always magically seemed to cross paths with the lobby bar.

The trip was in many ways therapeutic for me. It brought back many good memories, some not so good, and reminded me of a day when I was full of confidence, aspirations, and dreams. Going forward, I think that we are going to have to stop in to Beverly Hills a bit more often, just to rekindle those glory days of the past in the hopes that those memories will reignite some glory days in the future.