It's early morning in LA. A very early morning in LA, and I don't think I should be awake yet. In fact, I know I shouldn't be.
We got here late last night, and it was past 2am before we arrived at the hotel. 2am GMT; the lobby clock was just after 8pm, though the girl who checked us in took enough pity on our tired faces that it is the one thing I clearly remember about the hotel that first night. I suppose we had some food. I suppose it was – as tradition dictates – room service. I suppose I had learned my lesson from New York so vow not to drink any alcohol at all so that I wouldn't add another day's worth of jetlag with each glass of wine. I'm pretty sure that I decided that it was a good idea to stay up as late as we possibly could – till 11pm even – before falling asleep to the sound of the TV at 10.30 sharp. I'm pretty sure that I would have mentioned – at least once – how comfortable the beds are at Thompson Hotels.
None of the above stopped me from waking up way too early. It's just past 5am when I wake up the first time, and it's still dark outside. After spending the next hour pretending to be asleep (a trick I learned from my mother, who claims that it's almost as good as actually being asleep), I spot some rays of sunshine falling through the uncovered window in the living area or the room. We are on the 13th floor, and the view from that window is one of the prettiest I have seen: pale pastels, a dewy fog lifting from the low-storey houses towards Downtown's silvery skyline on the horizon.
It's too early and I shouldn't be awake, but this sunrise is one I don't mind getting up for.