“Someone’s big house, a mansion, and the talk on the street was mucho drugs. Janie and I figured we’d check it out. To us a trip to Bel Air was like blasting off to a different planet. Janie was going on and on about partying with rich kids, maybe finding a rich boyfriend who’d give her all the dope she wanted. As I said, she loved to fantasize. The truth is we were both such losers, no wheels, no money. So we did what we always did: hitched. We didn’t even have the address, guessed once we got to Bel Air, we’d figure it out. I picked Janie up at her place Friday afternoon, and we hung out on Hollywood Boulevard most of the day—playing arcade games, shoplifting cosmetics, panhandling for spare change but we didn’t get much. After dark, we walked back down to Sunset where the best hitching was but the first corner we tried was near some hookers and they threatened to cut our asses, so we moved west—between La Brea and Fairfax, where all the guitar stores are. I remember that, because while we waited for a ride, we were looking at guitars in windows and saying how cool it would be if we started a girl band and got rich. No matter that neither of us had a lick of talent. Anyway, finally—we must’ve have been waiting there over an hour—we got picked up.”

“What time?” said Milo.

“Must’ve been nine, ten.”

“Who picked you up?”