Maybe if there are a few other folks who witnessed their own Caligula-style epoch, at least then I wouldn't feel all alone and come off as if I'm spewing for the sake of spewing.
There may be a few other peeps here who have had a peek into how the other half lives when no one is looking.
The funny thing is, some of this started even before I got into the film/TV thing full time.
When I first moved to L.A. I needed any kind of job I could get and my first one, which lasted a few months, was cleaning restaurant kitchens and dining rooms so that the cook staff and other help didn't have to. We were sort of like a contractor that took the load off the kitchen staff and we had several very upscale restaurants. We showed up to work after hours, just after they closed for the night.
One of them was The Chronicle, now known as The Victorian, located at 2640 Main Street in Santa Monica.
Lately it was the film location for "Mr. Mom" but back in the early 80's it was an extremely expensive 5-star hangout for the likes of Fleetwood Mac, who would rent an entire room for their own private soirees late into the night. We would sometimes see them leaving just as we arrived.
And when we went into those curtained off private rooms with our dustpans and vacuum cleaners, sometimes the tables would be littered with rolled up twenties and fifties, and here and there some half emptied little brown glass screw top vials of coke would be on the table or on the floor, and half finished bottles of wine that cost between five hundred and a thousand bucks a bottle.
I guarantee you we had our own little after hours parties while we cleaned. :lamo
That was my first hint that maybe there's a whole other world in L.A. that I never even imagined.