Jackie Danicki

My friend Rob got to LA last week just after I’d left, and I’m pleased to see he was as impressed with the denizens of that fine city as I always am:

The one thing I wanted to mention about Los Angeles is this: people there will give you a ride at the drop of a hat. My first night there, at the media thing (which I have been told is Not To Be Blogged, so just imagine my fabulous fun), a nice girl with a very cool VW Bug that runs on biodiesel (the blend of the evening? walnut oil!) offered and gave me a ride to my hotel after talking to me for no joke, like ten seconds. Then on Monday, I asked a waiter about getting on the right bus to get to my photo shoot, and he ended up giving me a lift on his way home. And THEN, after the shoot, a remarkable woman who is one of the directors of an amazing organization called Stop Prison Rape gave me a ride. Not once did I ask or even do that shifty “Oh, if ONLY I had a ride home!” thing, either. It was so nice that it was almost creepy, although that probably just means I’m a selfish ass. At least I’m self-aware.

Emmanuelle gave me a ride to the airport at 5.30 in the damn morning, even though I planned to get a cab, and even though she was sick, because she worried that the cab wouldn’t come. Her husband, Matt, insisted on driving me to Cathy’s house even though he was more ill than he’d been in ten years AND despite the fact that he had to drive in his bathrobe and slippers (which, I admit, cracked me up). Cathy’s father, who is 80 years old, also offered to give me a ride to the airport, about sixteen times. And the one time I did get a cab - to meet a friend/client for dinner - I left with two crisp $100 notes he’d insisted on giving me to cover my transport (even though it was only $80 roundtrip to meet him).

Filed under: Life