Start of day one filming in USA; day after the subway adventure

We have cameras finally, and once they have been rigged inside the RV we can hit the road and crack on with the Mission. Film hire in Burbank, where all the big studios are, is the friendliest you could imagine, I guess the film hire people here must be some of the richest, fattest and happiest in the world. The video equipment hire people weren't so friendly, I guess you can go figure on that one, to coin a local phrase.

Anyway, I wasn't there for the film hire. Through a sequence of confused logistics and sheer bloody mindedness and a steady refusal for British banks to play ball with our access to our money causing a general lack of what budget we have flowing into our needy paws, Tom and I took the LA County transit system, at $1.25 a ride, from Universal City to Hawthorne, where we hoped to meet the film crew at the RV hire place.

I doubt many of you are familiar with the LA County transit system, but its mighty impressive in its distance and reach. People always speak ill of public transport in LA, but actually, as a way of getting round one of the most sprawling cities in the world, it's pretty good. Only problem, you need a taxi at each end to get you on to where you have to go; and taxis are like hens teeth in LA. You have to call them, like a dentist, and make an appointment.

Anyway, we thought we'd give it a pop. At one point Tom needed a pee, and a few stops off of Compton, a very familiar location to all those who enjoy their original gangsta rap, we got out and went to find a convenient convenience. This was a very Mexican neighbourhood, and we didn't hear a word of English spoken as we scuttled, bladder full stylee, about the darkening streets looking for a loo.

We found one in car wash eventually. And headed back to the subway station; where we could walk straight back on the train with our old tickets. The LA subway system is, fundamentally, free. The cab ride woulda cost $100; and had we taken a cab I never would've had a photo of Tom on the platform of Rosa Parks station, official name Imperial/Wilmington, named after the black rights activist. I thought it apt that Tom be there, living his new crazy adventurers life. And then I remembered how close we were to Compton, and thought, actually, there is no symbolism here, you're just a really irresponsible sister.

The screeching tyres on this journey are not yet over, but those were just some of the tracks we left yesterday.

Every day I learn something new, mostly about my depths of assholness, the extent of Tom's ability, and yesterday specifically, the efficiency of the LA transit system.

Off to get the monster trucks now. I'll leave you with our journey's mission statement, as spoken by the Lars man himself, and dug out by my lovely cousin, Dickon and delivered by the postal service of f'book. We may well bump into his sister, Maya, tonight, in Vegas. You can't get away from this bloody family...

"What's the message in Metallica? There is no message, but if there was a message, it really should be look within yourself, don't listen to me, don't listen to James, don't listen to anybody, look within yourself for the answers. "
Lars Ulrich
 
Rock on. Etc x