While my trip to LA a few weeks back was exceedingly productive, there were a handful of meetings (and a talk to give at USC’s film school) that I couldn’t quite fit in. So, the first half of this week, I was back in Los Angeles for a very short trip – in Monday morning, out Wednesday afternoon.

And while the trip was certainly worthwhile from a business perspective, it was the non-business stuff that made it truly memorable. Mainly because, the second evening, I got to share dinner with Ole Eichhorn, a long-standing online friend whose kind words and wisdom I’ve much appreciated over the years.

But also because, the first evening, I ended up having drinks at the bar of the Thompson Beverly Hills with a middle-aged black guy who was in from Atlanta ostensibly to visit his friend (who lived in LA, and was at the bar) but really to celebrate his eighth anniversary with his Canadian mistress (who was also at the bar, and seemed more than happy with her ‘other woman’ status), all of whom were chased off by Ridley Scott’s wife, a late-50’s eurotrash cougar who kept buying me drinks until I had to excuse myself to the bathroom and sneak out of the bar before she realized I was gone.