So my client wouldn't pay for the Chateau Marmont on Sunset in L.A. and I wound up across the street at the Standard, which used to be an old folks home until it was turned into a nightclub with rooms by Andre Balacz, who also owns the Chateau. Trusting in Andre, I checked in.

The Standard proved to be a sort of a collision of Area, the famed nightclub, and Motel 6, the famed motel. When I arrived from New York in the evening, tired and hungry, the lobby was in full swing, wild youth in hot pursuit of one another and ripe for Hilton-spotting. I was a little taken aback that there was a sleeping girl in a vitrine behind the desk. I hoped she was sleeping. I kept looking for breathing as I signed the register, and hoped for the best as I retired to my too-cool room.

Anyway, there were lots of good things about the hotel. Like the Warholy drapes and, uh... the friendly staff. Problem was I couldn't turn down the AC. Here I am with my second blanket. To be fair, they eventually fixed my thermostat. I hung out across the street with Mark Gonzales, who doesn't worry about the clients, and learned my lesson.