Los Angeles and New York in Style

I've just come back from a visit to the US. I'd wanted to explore two of the biggest cities in America for a while, and the opportunity came up to visit Los Angeles and New York.

I booked business class flights to New York online with British Airways. Club class is always a real treat - at least as good as many other (particularly American) airlines first class cabins. You get a fold flat bed, and the cabin staff seem to be far more friendly - it's the least you'd expect when you are effectively paying £1000 for 7 hours!

I stayed in the Waldorf Astoria Hotel for 3 nights. Apparently it is the flagship property of the Hilton Group, and La Paris Hilton lives there in the penthouse. Didn't see any sign of her - although I don't think I'd recognise her (fully dressed) if she bumped into me.

Hotel was predictably excellent, although I do find the American staff's constant coughing and expectation of a tip for doing their job a little tiresome. I appreciate that they're low paid, but expecting something for smiling and lifting my lightweight suitcase is a little much.

Everything that can be said about New York already has been, and so I'll gloss over the details of the stay. Saw the sights, bought some duty free perfume, etc. After 3 days of handing out $1 bills to every scruffy urchin in the city, I was ready for some sun, so we headed to JFK and boarded our business class flights to Los Angeles.

For some reason, the light seems totally different on the west coast, more yellow. Itt makes you feel good about yourself and everyone else. I even found myself saying "dude" on one occasion! Madness!

Stayed at the Loews in Santa Monica. Great. We had a night out as guests of some local business man. I must confess that the seedy side of the city is never far away - particularly on Sunset Boulevard - although I guess that that is a symptom of the city being the repository for so many broken dreams. Not everyone can be a movie star I suppose, but You do wonder why they don't head for home instead of turning to the streets. Maybe the shame of failure in the eyes of those you seek to impress is worse than the shame of a life in the shadows.