Storm watch

Years ago there was a funny commercial for a now defunct airline that satirized local news and their panicky Storm Watch weather segments by showing a storm cloud that looked like this one.

Now, making fun of consistently warm and sunny weather in the City of Angels isn't exactly a new idea. But it's always a sure bet. And an easy laugh.

The minute there's a mist (a real mist, not like Stephen King's The Mist - that would be another kind of "watch" altogether) or drizzle in L.A., news programs immediately shift gears and start competing frantically for ratings.

They don't waste any time breaking out their state-of-the-art, scientific, grotesquely expensive Doppler Radar. Mega Doppler Radar. Doppler Radar 2018. And Doppler Radar So Accurate It'll Make Your Head Explode.

As I write this, it's raining outside. Not a hard rain—light and steady. Just like my high school girlfriend. And in a curious case of life imitating wanna-be art, the news weather people—excuse me, meteorologists—are all on Storm Watch for real right now.

It's as if the city was populated entirely by relatives of the Wicked Witch of the West, and newscasters feel they have to get the word out before water hits any of them.

One of the best commentaries on L.A. weather and the way residents react to it was in Steve Martin's L.A. Story. Martin played a whacky weatherman (aren't they all?) who always tried to find entertaining ways to report weather in a city where the weather never changes.

Until one day, it took a terrible turn for the worse.

Random comment: even though it has nothing to do with rain or Storm Watch, the Prius key joke in La La Land is one of my favorite L.A. jokes. Ok, back on point.

Anyway, rain. L.A. You see where I'm going here. I was thinking I'd wrap up this post by writing my way into an end line like a hard rain's gonna fall. Or who'll stop the rain. Maybe rainy days and Mondays. Something like that.

Instead I've decided to abandon the whole Storm Watch/L.A. thing, and leave you with one of my favorite rain-related songs ever.

Dry humor? You're all wet? Nice day if it doesn't rain? How about a ripped from the headlines one like Stormy Daniels. No, I didn't think so. Oh well, I tried. Not hard, but I did try.

Please to enjoy Flight of the Conchords I'm Not Crying.

The stupidest thing I've ever done

Sadly, there was about a fifty-way tie for the answer to the title of this post. What can I tell ya? Some lessons you have to keep learning.

But I'm pretty sure I've narrowed it down to the right one.

For almost twenty years, I had the very good fortune to live in a 17th-floor corner apartment in the South Tower of Santa Monica Shores (now called The Shores).

This being Santa Monica, the apartment was rent controlled. When I moved in, it was $450 a month for the top floor, 1000 sq. ft., two-bedroom, corner apartment that was about a hundred yards from the beach. When I moved out almost two decades later, it was $900 a month.

The reason I moved was because my son was two years old, and very mobile. See those windows just to the left of the patio? Those were almost floor-to-ceiling, and they were sliding windows. Once my son was mobile, we had to have window locks on them that only let us keep them open an inch or two. Plus we were getting crowded out with all his baby gear. I desperately wanted to stay in Santa Monica, but it was at the height of the market and tear-downs were selling for $850K. So that wasn't happening.

Anyway, in what was clearly a design flaw, all the patios slanted towards the patio door. Which meant when it rained, or storms would come in off the ocean, the water just seeped right under the patio door and flooded the living room. And while the wife and I both enjoyed splashing in puddles, not so much when they were in our living room. The building had a maintenance staff and a fleet of wet-vacs to clean up the water after, but I thought there had to be a better solution.

Well, a solution anyway.

So I had the bright idea of putting giant sheets of clear, thick plastic on the front and side of the patio. I measured the space, then went to Fastsigns and had them made, grommets and all.

Here comes the stupid part.

To hang them, I had to straddle the railing on the patio, screw hooks into the patio ceiling, all while my wife was hanging on to me by the belt of my jeans. I was stretching and leaning to reach the hooks, while below me was a 17-story drop. The only thing between me as tenant and me as roadkill was my belt.

And the wife. Fortunately she kind of liked me.

When we think back on it now, both our stomachs churn thinking about how unbelievably stupid it was. We'd complained to the building for years, as did all the tenants who had the same problem (the water, not my stupidity), and they finally did something about it. After we'd moved out.

The complex has since been sold, and a lot of money was spent modernizing and updating the units. It feels more like a luxury, seaside hotel now and even stood in for one on a recent episode of Mad Men.

I still know a few people there who are enjoying the restaurants on Main Street, the short walk to the Third Street Promenade, the beach bike path and their rent controlled view of the ocean. A view I desperately miss.

Still, looking back, and down, I'm glad I'm around to miss it.