A Stolen Life in Lax Hotels

There are a few states in the US that just have an aura about them. A mythical magic that makes children dream about visiting them someday. Be a Cowboy in Texas, go over Niagara Falls in a barrel in New York, and live like a movie star in California.

Procrastinating work and surfing the web, I’d stumbled across lax hotels and started plotting my escape. You see, I’ve been having a secret love affair with Los Angeles for some 25 years now.

Growing up on the East Coast, I’d always yearned to see Southern California and the Pacific Ocean. But I’d also grown up listening to all the prejudices concerning LA. I wasn’t deterred and my first visit was a smash for just the very reason I was told not to go. It is so completely different from the Northeast. Like visiting a foreign land almost.

Ah, to live and die in LA! To dive and lie in those lax hotels with their signature FeatherBorne beds, L’Occitane bath and body products and in-room spa treatments that will surely make you feel A-List in La-La Land.

Sure, I’ve visited LA dozens of times over the years — not to live, but to visit. To steal away. To live a fantasy. I started booking into boutique hotels and stopped short of assuming an alias. I’d pretend to be Bette Davis in “A Stolen Life”.

Sure, I may not kill my sister to get there, but fantasizing about my stay at lax hotels gets me through the drudgery. To sleep in and then order breakfast in bed. To stroll along the beach. To drive along the coast in a convertible. I’ll be Bette again soon,  just with better lingerie.

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