24 hours isn't enough time to see a city. We squeezed in a trip to McDonalds, a walk around the block, and when our hotel room was ready, a 2 hour nap. Feeling emboldened, tried to call a cab and ended up in a car the size of an aircraft carrier. ("This is a Lincoln Towncar!" I whispered excitedly. "I've read about them in novels!")
Everything was bigger, especially the freeway. We went to Santa Monica Boulevard.
The coffee was terrible.
We rode the ferris wheel.
We took a walk along Muscle Beach, and watched the sun go down.
A stop over is nothing, an amuse bouche, a snack before the main meal. It serves a purpose - in our case, reducing jet lag and adding padding in case our expensive, non-refundable flights were delayed - and nothing else. They’re meant to be practical, not magical.
I guess we were lucky.
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