Eat Your Way Through LA

You haven't experienced LA until you ride through it on the top of a double decker bus, in the heat, rolling down the freeway, holding down the banner thats whipping you in the face, dodging tree branches and hit and runs...



Shouting "ILLEGAL" at everyone, calling out to the Paris Hilton look alikes. There is always an adventure and a good story at the end of an afternoon with John and the Double Decker Bus.



John is the host of this tour. He filled our bellies and minds with garbage. Good garbage. Did you know Cher went to Hollywood High?


I wish our first stop was Sushi 101. It's my favorite.


Ok, First stop: The Smoke House, right across from Warner Bros Studios.


You can't start the day without garlic breath. We give it two thumbs up. Way up.



And if you were to rent a double decker bus, where would you go?

Griffith Park, naturally! Did you know that Ben and Jen's baby shower was there days earlier?




The LA River is beautiful this time of year.


Next eats: Almond Cookies in Chinatown.




It's the year of the Rooster.


Robin, Marie, and David. Robin is (A) Lauging at John's antics (B) Trying to keep cool on an August afternoon, or (C) preparing for a day's work at the rice paddy.




Enter: Olvera Street
Oldest road in Los Angeles


How much could you do in 10 minutes?


It's the premiere selection of Mexican wrestling masks.


They tempted David, but he resisted.








Cielito Lindo. Our stop for hot off the press taquitos and avocado sauce.


No. We didn't stop at the jail.


I told Gill to avoid Boyle Heights at all cost.


But I would return, just to see the Mariachi square again.


And after crusing through Little Tokyo, we got Fortune Cookies. This is Gill with hers, posing with the KooKooRoo.


Downtown, in all of her radiant glory.






This is where Wilshire begins. Or does it end here?






Now, anxiously awaiting a Tommy burger.


I once landed a role as a Hungry Hungry Hippo.




And our driver takes a break.


Nurse Sarno was devastated when she arrived at her restaurant, which was no more.


Swingers, anyone?


My bookstore of choice. Sorry Jay.


Cruisin through my hood.


My diner of choice. We at here on Thanksgiving.


John claims that no one walks in LA. And he has written a book to support that statement.




Pizza was da bomb.
















A messy, yet tasty, peanut butter and honey shake.




By this time, we were hot, we were tired, we were full. We didn't want Dodger dogs, we didn't want to walk around City Walk, we didn't want slurpees.




Time to go home and get some ZZZzzzzzz.