4th of July Boob Tour 2010
Hermosa Beach is a small community in Los Angeles about five miles from LAX. It's a quiet town with a drinking problem. When I was on the city commission to revitalize the community, I suggested Jewelry stores, a diamond exchange. Instead -- and with my full approval -- they went for bars. People come here to drink. Some stay. Some stay and quit drinking (Hi!).*
It turns out that in Los Angeles (city pop. 4,094,764, county pop. 9,848,011), that there are A LOT of people who like to come to the beach and drink on the 4th of July. It's a zoo.
There's a Strand alongside the beach for people and bicycles that's runs the length of town (and about 20 mi outside of town). It's 20 feet wide. It gets so packed you can't ride a bike on it. You can sit on the bike and push yourself around, but there are places where you can't even do that.
In the morning, until about 1pm there is some incredible talent out there, let me tell you. Great weather, beach, bikinis, young beauties. It's a perfect storm. They've been drinking, giddy, haven't got the surly beginning of the hangover or vaguely upset stomach that starts after 4 hours of drinking.
Then between 1 and 2pm there's a shift change. The liquor kicks in. The good looking women know to leave or cover up -- or they'll get groped. Many don't mind. There's just too many people around to enforce infractions. They po-po got bigger fish to fry than these drunken boobs (big electric sign in the bar district says, "Alcohol fines are tripled on the 4th of July"). From then on, it's a festival of Ignorance.
Police from 10-20 jurisdictions come here for the overtime. They ride cars, motorcycles, SUVs, horses, Blart-mobiles, bicycles, foot patrol, helicopters, you name it. The lifeguards estimate 5,000 - 10,000 people come to Hermosa Beach every day on a typical summer weekend. On the 4th of July it's 50,000 to 75,000. The bars switch to plastic cups. People fill their Snapple bottles directly from the keg at private parties. Every block has a band, some of them fairly famous (Pennywise started around here if that means anything to anyone over 30).
My goddaughter showed up with a friend about noon. We found parking (unbelievable). Went to Hennessey's for a burger, right at the corner of Pier and Strand. Had a hard time talking from all the screaming in the bar. Walked out and the shift change had taken place. Whole new crowed, 2x people. An electric rock band on a large pull wagon was being manually towed down the strand by 10 guys. A couple of the women had bikini tops that were just painted on. Jenny was standing 20 feet from me and I couldn't see her from all the confusion.
People have told me that on their way home from work on the holiday, that the freeways are wide open and free flowing. Traffic on the surface streets is moderate. Make the turn into Hermosa Beach west of Pacific Coast Highway (a strip about 10 blocks wide) and there's congestion. Walk across Hermosa Avenue, the last major street before the beach and it becomes one huge party.
Most people eat from 3 to 7pm, so there's a lull. Then they reload, re-arm and fuel up. Fireworks are illegal in Los Angeles County. About 8pm, they come out. I talked to one guy who for years would come back from Mexico with 50,000 firecrackers in strings. He'd tape them to two 4'x8' sheets of plywood. They would haul them on the beach, light them off, then run back and sit down. The police would show up -- and watch. What else are they going to do? "Save" the plywood?
Naw, they pick up the passed out bodies, stop fights, talk to the pretty girls, confiscate liquor, break up parties, talk to the pretty girls. arrest the drunk drivers, respond to traffic collisions. Their patience is sorely tested. Over and over and over. I'll give them the chat with the pretty girls as a perk.
In the middle of all this, as my goddaughter and here friend and I are walking down to the Redondo Pier (about 2mi) we see a Crackberry lying in the Strand. She picks up up, she dials the last call - busy. I dial the one before that - Jackpot! "Omigod you are soooo nice! it's my friend's. I'm in Redondo - I CAN'T come pick it up" I give her my number. The next morning the owner calls. Where are you? I asked. "I'm in Palos Verdes (5mi away). I'm coming to Redondo to pick up my car. I can pick up my phone after I get back from the Emergency Room. I think I broke my arm." Now, THAT'S a party, I said. She got it about 2pm, but she hadn't been to the ER yet. Priorities, you know.
Feel free to come by next year. Parking's a bitch, but you gotta see the show at least once.
* I drink, but not like I used to. If I ever made a list of the reasons I should be dead, that would be top ten easy, maybe even top five. I'll have to think about what would be ahead of it though. Feel free to send me suggestions.
It turns out that in Los Angeles (city pop. 4,094,764, county pop. 9,848,011), that there are A LOT of people who like to come to the beach and drink on the 4th of July. It's a zoo.
There's a Strand alongside the beach for people and bicycles that's runs the length of town (and about 20 mi outside of town). It's 20 feet wide. It gets so packed you can't ride a bike on it. You can sit on the bike and push yourself around, but there are places where you can't even do that.
In the morning, until about 1pm there is some incredible talent out there, let me tell you. Great weather, beach, bikinis, young beauties. It's a perfect storm. They've been drinking, giddy, haven't got the surly beginning of the hangover or vaguely upset stomach that starts after 4 hours of drinking.
Then between 1 and 2pm there's a shift change. The liquor kicks in. The good looking women know to leave or cover up -- or they'll get groped. Many don't mind. There's just too many people around to enforce infractions. They po-po got bigger fish to fry than these drunken boobs (big electric sign in the bar district says, "Alcohol fines are tripled on the 4th of July"). From then on, it's a festival of Ignorance.
Police from 10-20 jurisdictions come here for the overtime. They ride cars, motorcycles, SUVs, horses, Blart-mobiles, bicycles, foot patrol, helicopters, you name it. The lifeguards estimate 5,000 - 10,000 people come to Hermosa Beach every day on a typical summer weekend. On the 4th of July it's 50,000 to 75,000. The bars switch to plastic cups. People fill their Snapple bottles directly from the keg at private parties. Every block has a band, some of them fairly famous (Pennywise started around here if that means anything to anyone over 30).
My goddaughter showed up with a friend about noon. We found parking (unbelievable). Went to Hennessey's for a burger, right at the corner of Pier and Strand. Had a hard time talking from all the screaming in the bar. Walked out and the shift change had taken place. Whole new crowed, 2x people. An electric rock band on a large pull wagon was being manually towed down the strand by 10 guys. A couple of the women had bikini tops that were just painted on. Jenny was standing 20 feet from me and I couldn't see her from all the confusion.
People have told me that on their way home from work on the holiday, that the freeways are wide open and free flowing. Traffic on the surface streets is moderate. Make the turn into Hermosa Beach west of Pacific Coast Highway (a strip about 10 blocks wide) and there's congestion. Walk across Hermosa Avenue, the last major street before the beach and it becomes one huge party.
Most people eat from 3 to 7pm, so there's a lull. Then they reload, re-arm and fuel up. Fireworks are illegal in Los Angeles County. About 8pm, they come out. I talked to one guy who for years would come back from Mexico with 50,000 firecrackers in strings. He'd tape them to two 4'x8' sheets of plywood. They would haul them on the beach, light them off, then run back and sit down. The police would show up -- and watch. What else are they going to do? "Save" the plywood?
Naw, they pick up the passed out bodies, stop fights, talk to the pretty girls, confiscate liquor, break up parties, talk to the pretty girls. arrest the drunk drivers, respond to traffic collisions. Their patience is sorely tested. Over and over and over. I'll give them the chat with the pretty girls as a perk.
In the middle of all this, as my goddaughter and here friend and I are walking down to the Redondo Pier (about 2mi) we see a Crackberry lying in the Strand. She picks up up, she dials the last call - busy. I dial the one before that - Jackpot! "Omigod you are soooo nice! it's my friend's. I'm in Redondo - I CAN'T come pick it up" I give her my number. The next morning the owner calls. Where are you? I asked. "I'm in Palos Verdes (5mi away). I'm coming to Redondo to pick up my car. I can pick up my phone after I get back from the Emergency Room. I think I broke my arm." Now, THAT'S a party, I said. She got it about 2pm, but she hadn't been to the ER yet. Priorities, you know.
Feel free to come by next year. Parking's a bitch, but you gotta see the show at least once.
* I drink, but not like I used to. If I ever made a list of the reasons I should be dead, that would be top ten easy, maybe even top five. I'll have to think about what would be ahead of it though. Feel free to send me suggestions.
posted by Dewage | 7:23 PM
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