Inside the travel brochure was written "Come to America for excitement, adventure and fun."

That's exactly what I needed in my life. I strode confidently up to the travel agent to enquire about the details. Now I regard myself as a carefree type of person, I don't care as long as it's free, but when the agent told me the airfare prices, I almost had a pink out. (A pink out is exactly the same as a black out only prettier.) I have always been very careful with my money and had almost reached the point where I wouldn't even spend the time of day, but it seemed that to have 'excitement, adventure and fun,' it would cost me money. Who ever sang 'America Land of the Free' in the National Anthem, was full of shit.

The travel agent seeing my hesitation over the prices, tried to sell me one of those ultra cheap, bargain packages to Los Angeles comprising of seven days and two nights, but I wanted to see everything that I had dreamed about as a kid. Hollywood, Disneyland, Alcatraz and indians running around with feathers in their hair. I wanted to meet Big Chief Sitting Bull's daughter called 'Ninety Nine Cents.' I heard that the Chief so named her because she was always just under a buck.

So with great anticipation of a wonderful adventure, I set off for the airport in May 1995. United Airways had their jumbo parked on the runway. It was a huge mother of an aircraft, and as I strode through Customs and then walked rather hesitantly towards the aircraft, a buxom, peroxide blonde, airline hostess must have noticed my apprehension. Part of her training would be to ease the concerns of passengers and she certainly eased mine. She whispered to me, "Don't worry sweetie, they only crash once."

Seated cramped up in the economy section of the aircraft, I was determined to get some value for my air fare. I had the aisle seat where I could easily stop the hostess and order a few beers.

Once the aircraft was airborne, the same tizzy blonde hostess that I had spoken with earlier, pushed the drink trolly past my seat. "What would you like to drink?" she purred.
"I'll have a VB please."
She looked surprised, bent down and whispered, "You want VD?"
"Not VD silly, VB, Victorian Bitter, Aussie beer."
"Sorry, hun, we only have this." she said, and handed me a can of an instantly forgettable brand of American beer. It was at least cold, but was so flat that it could have been served on a plate. I scoffed it down in one gulp and asked for another, telling her at the same time to keep them coming. You may at this point think that I drink to excess, but just for the record, I drink to anything and the only person who is worried about it is my doctor. He believes that I have too little blood in my alcohol stream. This does not however, worry the Red Cross when I donate blood to them. They use my blood to sterilise their instruments.

The flight was uneventful. They showed two movies and it was during the second movie that the blonde air hostess came to my seat and asked me in a whisper if I would like to join the 'mile high club' with her. She said it was the best way to fly united. I politely declined, as I was already the member of three sporting clubs and a social club in Sydney and didn't need any more club membership cards cluttering up my wallet.

Finally I arrived in Los Angeles, and after being cleared by Customs, was picked up by the courtesy bus and driven to Hertz Car Rentals. It was here that I recognised my first problem in America. All of the cars in the lot had the steering wheel placed on the wrong side of the car. If something like that was allowed to occur in Australia, the shop steward in charge of the vehicle assembly line would be fired.

The other big difference between Aussie and American cars, is that Aussie cars have innovative windshield wipers designed so that they won't hold parking tickets.

I asked for one of those high powered Japanese cars with four forward speeds - 1st, 2nd, 3rd and Banzai, but was given a Buick instead.This is a photo of the car I hired when it was clean. It was difficult to see what colour it was when it was returned to the rental car yard.

I recognised my second big American problem when I drove out of the rental car yard. I realised to my horror that Americans drive on the wrong side of the road. I was forced to drive up onto the sidewalk to avoid two huge semi-trailers that were driving straight at me. Talk about road hogs, and to add insult to injury, the drivers of those rigs had the nerve to yell abuse at me. Where the hell are all the traffic cops when you need them? I came to the conclusion that it would be a lot safer for me to do the same as those other traffic violators, and drive on the wrong side of the road also.

With maps spread out across the dashboard, I followed the highway system to Anaheim, and pulled into a motel which was right opposite Disneyland. The motel was one of those run down places where it is difficult to know whether the bathroom has roller towels or loose wallpaper.

The next day I turned one of my childhood dreams into reality, when I visited Disneyland. I was like a small kid in a candy store, filling my face with junk food and joining long queue's of people to get onto a ride that would shake the living crap out of me. I hate heights at the best of times and normally I get giddy standing on thick carpet, but here I was screaming down various roller coaster rides and getting soaked on Splash Mountain. I had a great time. To top it all off, I met my cousins Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck.

The next day I took myself to see my other childhood dream place, Hollywood. I always wanted to visit Hollywood, the place where great movies were made, where stars walked the streets, where unknown starlets became movie legends just by lying upon a casting couch. A place full of glamour and excitement. The bubble burst however, under closer inspection. Most of the movie houses in the area were only playing X-rated movies, with prostitutes plying their trade outside. If it was great once, it is certainly very sleazy now.

I did manage to meet Marilyn Munro. If you want to see our meeting captured on film, click here.

I visited Graumans Chinese Theatre and was disgusted at the vandalism that has been allowed to occur. It seems that a lot of irresponsible hoodlums have made a mess of the pavement surrounding the theatre, by stomping their feet and leaving their handprints in the wet cement. They could have only done this immediately following the pouring of cement by the tradesmen who had come to make repairs. Those poor tradesmen must have been hopping mad the next morning when they saw the mess that those vandals made. I still can't understand why these hooligans were never arrested, they were stupid enough to write their names alongside their handprints. With names and fingerprints preserved in the cement, why haven't the cops arrested the offenders? I found one hand print that belongs to a guy who grew up in Australia. I should turn him in to the authorities. If you want to see the damage that this lout caused, click here.

I enjoyed looking at all the star's names embedded in Hollywood Boulevard. I found a star called 'Little Richard.' As 'Dick' is a name short for 'Richard,' I can relate to this star.

I also visited the Wax Museum, Hollywood Studio Museum, Ripleys Believe it or Not, Universal Studios, drove through Beverly Hills, visited U.C.L.A. and had my stomach upset at Knottsberry Farm.

It was then off to Venice Beach. I have always regarded myself as a 'son of a beach' so I felt right at home at Muscle Beach as it is popularly known. This was the home of Jim Morrison of the Doors, and if I had to choose a place to live in California, I think I could live here very happily. Although the beach itself is not quite up to the standard of Australian beaches, the local people and the atmosphere of the place made it most interesting. When hungry, one could eat the sandwiches there for free. (sand which is there.) Speaking of sand, click here to see some fantastic sand sculpture at Venice Beach. Roller blading, playing hand ball, racket ball or just ripping off the tourists were other popular activities.

From there I drove up the coast road, stopping at Santa Barbara to see how the rich people live. Prices in this town are so much higher than anywhere else. This years hotels are charging next years prices, with some hotels being so exclusive, that you are not allowed to use their steam room unless you are wearing a tie and jacket.

Some of the stretch limousines that the locals use to drive down to the corner shop just to buy a packet of gum, are huge. I saw one rich old bugger being chauffeur driven around town, with the entire London Philharmonic Orchestra set up with all their instruments in the back seat, playing Beethoven's ninth as they drove past.

The scenery along the coast road is breathtaking. I stopped for lunch at Malibu and did a tour of Hearst Castle in the Santa Lucia Mountains before continuing on to San Francisco. Here, I visited all the locations that I have seen in movies and TV shows. Chinatown, Lombard Street. I drove across the Golden Gate Bridge so many times that they had to resurface the road. I rode the cable cars and did the full tour of Fisherman's Wharf. For lunch on the wharf, I ate a seafood chowder which was served in a scooped out loaf of crusty bread. I was amazed at the size of the strawberries on sale, they are more like apples. I am sure that the growers inject the strawberries with steroids before picking them.

It was then off to Alcatraz Island, otherwise known as 'The Rock,' the former home for such identities as Al Capone, "Machine Gun Kelly" and Doc Barker. I can understand why numerous prisoners tried to escape. It must have been infuriating for them to walk around the exercise yard and have all those seagulls flying over and crapping on their heads.

My next target was the Grand Canyon. My visit was delayed for a day by a snow storm which made the roads impassible. Yosemite Park was closed, so what does a man do when he has to sit around and wait? He drinks tasteless American beer. Finally, when they pulled down the roadblocks, I drove in and was surprised that this ditch could be called "the worlds most wonderful spectacle." It is supposed to be 277 miles long, 18 miles wide and more than a mile deep. It is said that the canyon was carved out bit by bit over millenia by the force of the Colorado River. In Australia, our grave diggers can dig a hole just as deep in only a few hours. In fact, if the Grand Canyon was placed on one of Australia's roads, it would be regarded as just another pot hole.

I then turned the car towards Nevada and headed for the gambling capital of the world - Las Vegas. The very moment that I drove down the main strip, I knew that I was going to love this place. When I looked at the millions of light globes flashing all over the casinos, it brought back memories of me as a kid firing rocks at the street lights with my trusty slingshot - I could cause a lot of damage here.

Over the next five days, I visited every casino and drank their free grog trying to get as loaded as the dice. The place was crowded with people at all times of the day and night. At the tables, some of the gamblers were so rich that they don't count their money, they measure it. I must say that I have never met such an attractive, intelligent, poised, alert bunch of phonies in all of my life. Hanging off the arms of these rich old sugar daddies , are women with their tizzy, blonded hair, wearing dresses that were so tight that even I had trouble breathing.

They sure like taking your money in this town. On some nights, after I had retired to my hotel room, I would call for room service. Together with my steaming cup of coffee that I ordered, they would send up three slot machines and a changemaker. Las Vegas is a place that never sleeps. There are thousands of women there willing to help you keep fit by taking your wallet for a walk. The casino female staff in those cute little outfits that they almost wear, keep bringing you free alcohol. I drank so much that I was almost accepted for the Alcohol of Fame. You can be assured that I will return.

I would like to apologize to all those Californian people who may have noticed a peculiar, unusual taste in their drinking water during my visit. You see, when I visited the Hoover Dam, I found it to be the best place that I could find to wash out my dirty socks and underwear.

I then drove down to the Mexican border and across to San Diego. I found this place to be so much like Sydney and fell in love with it instantly. The restaurants served wholesome meals, rather than all that fried junk food that is so prevalent throughout California. The harbour is beautiful, the Travelodge Motel was big, clean and comfortable. The zoo was first rate. It was very nice to see the City where Australia won the Americas Cup in yachting. In San Diego the females believe that humping should be done slowly and carefully. For a look at one of the slowest love making sessions you could ever see, click here.

I then drove down to the Mexican border and walked across into Tijuana. With a 'zonkey' on every corner, it is not the cleanest place I have ever visited, but the leather factories make it worthwhile.

It was then back up the coastal road to Los Angeles Airport. Three weeks and three thousand kilometers later, I had completed my tour and was now heading home.

Although I only saw a small slice of America, I loved every inch of it, and hope to return someday soon. My return will be much sooner, if you Yanks start selling VB beer in your hotels and pour that other diluted piss down the sink.

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