Photo Essay: Fueled By Jet Fumes and Fear of Missing Out at Ontario Airport

Many years ago, back when I was living in NYC, I got up at the crack of dawn one morning to go spectate as Edith ran a race on the runways of JFK Airport.

    

decommissioned Boeing 727

I wasn't a runner back then—and I'm still not—but I thought to myself, if I were to ever do a race, I think I'd like to do one on an airport runway. 

 

Well, my time came this past weekend, as I arrived to the National Guard Hangar at Ontario International Airport (ONT) in Southern California's Inland Empire for its "5K the Runway" event. 

Photo Essay: The Future Becomes Retro at Howard Johnson Anaheim

I've often thought about spending the night in Anaheim, California so I can take advantage of one of those three-day ticket deals at Disneyland. Since my annual pass expired in 2016, I think I've only gotten to go twice.

So far, I've taken a tour of the Grand Californian, and I've skulked around the Disneyland Hotel. I've gawked at the Alpine Inn and the Camelot Inn as I've driven past them.

 

But I had no idea Anaheim had such a mid-century masterpiece as the William L. Pereira-designed Howard Johnson's, just steps away from Disneyland.

And now there's something even more spectacular about it: They created a suite that's somewhat of a recreation (more of a transcreation) of the short-lived Monsanto House of the Future walk-through attraction from Disneyland's Tomorrowland, circa 1957 to 1967. 

Photo Essay: Take the Red Elevator Through Space and Time at the Bonaventure Hotel

There are some buildings in LA I feel compelled to respect for their sheer audacity. 

The Bonaventure Hotel in Downtown Los Angeles is one of those.

Photo Essay: Getting Baptized In Colored Light at St. Francis Episcopal Church, Palos Verdes Estates

Architect Walter Davis, of the venerated La Venta Inn in Southern California's Palos Verdes Estates, also designed the 1952 chapel at St. Francis Episcopal Church in PVE. That's the chapel that was advertised as part of Doors Open Peninsula a couple weekends ago. 

But when I got to the grounds, I was far more fascinated by a much more modern-looking, almost Googie-style chapel next door. 

Photo Essay: The Automobiliana and Petroliana of the Segerstrom Shelby Event Center and Museum

I usually don't give up a chance to visit a car museum—whether I'm in Nashville, Tennessee or Las Vegas, Nevada. But sometimes it might take me a little while to get there. 

The Segerstrom Shelby Event Center and Museum opened in October 2021...

Video: Avoiding Regret on TV Talking About Surfridge Ghost Town, Next to LAX

I always really enjoy the opportunity to share my discoveries with a wider audience—and sometimes beyond the written word, like at speaking engagements or via television appearances.

It feels like an opportunity to connect on a more personal level. 

And it gives me an excuse sometimes to return to a favorite spot—like Surfridge. 

Screenshot: Fox 11 Los Angeles

Photo Essay: The Grub, Grottos, and Gunfire of the Los Angeles Police Academy, Elysian Park

[Last updated 2/25/23 11:21 PM PT—Video embed added to bottom of post]

The Los Angeles Police Academy is one of the most recognizable landmarks of LA's Elysian Park...

 

...starting with its "Academy Arches," which have appeared in many TV and movie productions, including American Beauty and episodes of Dragnet and T.J. Hooker.

Photo Essay: World's Most Expensive Stadium Lands in Inglewood, City of Champions

During pandemic closures, it felt as though much of the world had stopped.

 

But it turned out to be a great time for construction projects—considered essential business, exempt from lockdowns—like the new SoFi Stadium in Inglewood, California.  

Requiem for Fry's, The Quirkiest Electronics Stores There Ever Were [Updated for 2025]

[Last updated 4/13/25 9:21 PM PT—The Los Angeles Times reported that the former Fry's building in Burbank was demolished last week.]

[Updated 3/13/21 3:14 PM PT—architect info added]

I can't remember the first time I drove past Fry's Electronics in Burbank, California—whether it was on an early business trip to LA or after I'd officially moved here in 2011—but it felt like it had always been there. 

And as much of an oddity it was, with a flying saucer having crash-landed into its front entrance, it never occurred to me that it wouldn't always be there. 

Pandemic Amusements: In the Swimming Pool

Since the beginning of the coronavirus pandemic and subsequent shut-down, I've been craving certain things.

Some of those craving I've been able to satisfy—like for donuts and onion rings.

Others have proven more elusive—like how my skin craves for human touch.

But since March—or, at least since it stopped raining and started to really heat up—I've been dying to go swimming.

With public swimming pools shut down for months, and unnecessary travel deemed too risky, I've been beached in my apartment with no laps to swim.

And to make matters worse, when the public pools did reopen, I found out that my local West Hollywood Park facility was being demolished—and its replacement wouldn't open until September 2021.

I didn't feel comfortable enough to swim indoors at the Beverly Hills High "swim gym." My other top choice would've been the Annenberg Community Beach House—but that, too, is closed for the year.

I could travel farther afield to try a new lap adventure (stay tuned for dispatches from the "Hey Rookie" pool, formerly part of Ft. Macarthur in San Pedro), but everything is just so uncertain.

I needed a nice, wet dose of familiarity. Especially during a time when even the most mundane activities seem dangerous.

         

So that brought me back to the Culver City Municipal Pool, a.k.a. "The Plunge," in Veterans Memorial Park.

Originally dedicated in 1949, it surpasses my other "regular" swimming spots in its Olympic size and quality of its locker room, though we swimmers don't currently have access to the later.

But nevermind, I told myself. I'd arrive with my bathing suit already on, wearing a top layer that could easily be stripped off and tossed aside. I'd line my car seat with towels for when I'd have to drive home soaking wet.

It's a little nerve-wracking returning to any routine these days—but for the last several months, I kept arguing that outdoor pools would be safe, given the open air and all that chlorine.

Parasites, bacteria, and fungi thrive in wet environments. Viruses prefer dry air. And so far, this novel coronavirus doesn't seem to survive chlorinated water.



So, last Wednesday I set my alarm for 7 a.m. and logged into the website to reserve my spot. As a non-resident, I wouldn't have first choice over my time slot—but I didn't have a problem getting one on the first day that the Culver City Plunge would reopen.

I was actually particularly excited about swimming under the current health restrictions—because that meant that I'd get a lap lane all to myself.

I hate sharing a lane, especially if we have to "circle swim." Every time someone comes up behind me—because invariably they're a faster, stronger swimmer than I am—it feels like I'm being chased by a shark.

It really stresses me out. Especially when they're swimming like they're training for the Olympics—and I'm just trying to survive 20 minutes of a modified doggie paddle alternated with a backstroke.

But today, under the new rules, I had a full 45 minutes of a whole lane all to myself. And it was glorious.

It seemed that every time I flipped over to stroke backwards, I'd get to watch a plane either taking off from or landing at LAX.

I peered at those commercial jets as they sliced through my blue-sky view, interspersed with the iridescence of chlorinated water droplets on the inside of my black aviator sunglasses (which have altogether replaced goggles in my swimming gear).

I could feel the ripples of water scraping against the gooseflesh of my legs as they kicked back and forth. It was as though I could feel each drop individually.

I could feel the waves seeping into my scalp, too—through my swim cap and the hair that I'd piled atop in a tight bun.

I wasn't sure I'd use the entire 45-minute slot—I rarely swim more than, say, a half hour—but I relished in the unshaded sunshine, the 80+-degree weather, and the quietude of my fellow lap swimmers who were making the most of their time in their own lanes, sparing not a moment for frivolous chit-chat.

And of course there was no section of the pool reserved for "recreation swim"—a.k.a. kids and families.

We can't really recreate right now. We've got to get down to business—in and out, no lingering, no funny business, keep it moving.

I was so happy with my pandemic swim today that as soon as I got home, I logged on to reserve another slot as soon as I could.

Of course, it's completely booked for the next two weeks.

But if I set my alarm early again this week, I might be able to snag a spot in a water aerobics class next week.

I'm sure the craving will be back by then.

And maybe at some point soon, I'll be brave enough to try another outdoor pool somewhere new.

Related Posts:
Swimming in Circles Under a Wide Open Sky
The Swimming Pool That Transports You From Beverly Hills to Bedford Falls

Photo Essay: Annenberg Community Beach House, Hearst's Lost Gold Coast

Photo Essay: A Close Encounter of the 'Jet Age' Kind at LAX

No matter which gate or terminal your airline directs your arriving flight to at LAX, there's something you're sure to see—the Theme Building.

circa 2019

It's at the center of it all at LAX—hovering like a space ship while all the rental car and hotel shuttles and taxis and rideshares encircle it on World Way, bobbing and weaving around the parking structures and the ill-marked exits that simply have you return to the airport instead of heading to your destination.

circa 2019

Situated on an island of sorts between West Way and East Way, the Theme Building is the kind of beacon—day or night—that makes you say "What the heck is that?" and then become obsessed with it. I don't think that's just me. I think it's pretty much everybody.

circa 2019

Completed in 1961 as a joint venture between architects Charles Luckman, William Pereira, Welton Becket, and Paul Revere Williams (though some say Williams has been given more credit than he deserves on this particular project), the "new terminal facilities" were dedicated by none other than Lyndon B. Johnson, the sitting Vice President of the United States at the time (and future POTUS 1963-9).

circa 2019

And the Theme Building was an essential part of the plan to bring LA's international airport into the "Jet Age" with state-of-the-art facilities and a futuristic, Googie vibe.

circa 2019

LAX had come a long way from its first iteration as Mines Field—a mere landing strip built in the late 1920s out of a clearing in the bean and barley fields of the former Mexican land grant, Rancho Aguaje de la Centinela.

circa 2019

And in keeping up with the new jet set, there was no telling what new heights this flight facility could reach.

circa 2019

Also known as the "Theme-and-Arch Building," the LAX spaceship (whose initial design is credited to draftsman James Langenheim of the Pereira-Luckman firm) ultimately became nothing more than a symbolic center of the airport—and not a functional one.

circa 2019

In fact, it's kind of hard to get to on foot, especially with luggage in tow. And there's not much reason to go there if you're not flying in or out of LAX.

circa 2019

There used to be, however, an exception—the circular Encounter Restaurant and Bar.

circa 2019

Encounter closed permanently in December 2013, but its signage persists on the tiled wall outside the (now locked) glass entry doors...

circa 2019

...and outside the elevator that would take you to the top while playing some Star Trek theme-inspired soundtrack (or a copycat version thereof, listen at the bottom of this post).

circa 2015

Standing under those stuccoed arches, encircling the flying saucer like the rings of Saturn, visiting is truly an "out of this world" experience.

circa 2010

I had the foresight to go out of my way to get up in there back in October 2010. Although Encounter had originally opened in 1997, the building itself later needed renovations in 1999 and seismic retrofitting and other structural reinforcements in 2007. It didn't reopen until July 2010.

circa 2010

I was living in NYC at the time but had ramped up my West Coast visits in anticipation of moving here. And after flying back and forth so many times over the course of that year, I just had to visit that UFO-shaped restaurant suspended in the air.

circa 2010

The Jetsons-like interior was accented by the spaceship's exterior lighting design—contributed by Michael Valentino of Disney Imagineering, circa 2000. The lava lamps on the crater-shaped bar were a bit much, as were the laser-beam bar guns and alien beer taps. And the themed menus—except the one for "junior space cadets"—offered cocktails like "The Black Hole" and the "Bossa Supernova."

circa 2010

And at the time, I didn't appreciate that much of the spacey-chic I was witnessing was the work of other Disney imagineers, too—like Eddie Sotto (who designed the textured walls to look like the moon's surface) and Ellen Guevara (who worked with Sotto on the flowing carpet patterns).



But oh, what I wouldn't give to ride that elevator again—and listen to that kooky sci-fi music—and get a good look at all the crazy design elements inside—and watch all the planes taking off and landing on the runways outside.

Encounter website circa 2007 (Screenshot via Internet Archive)

I did actually dine at Encounter one more time—that same year, in fact, when I'd returned to LA to interview for the job that ultimately moved me here. I was staying at a hotel near LAX and my future boss met me at the airport for dinner.

Considering the business nature of our meeting, I didn't get the chance to take any nighttime photos of the Theme Building or its restaurant. But to be honest, I was so obsessed with collecting new experiences from 2010 to 2014 that I didn't really feel the need to go back. I thought I'd been there and done that.

In fact, it didn't occur to me to go back to Encounter ever again—until it was too late.

Nothing has replaced the Encounter Restaurant in the Theme Building, although there's been talk of how it might be reimagined—especially with the success of the newly reopened (and preserved) TWA terminal at JFK. The observation deck is even closed. The only signs of life are the Bob Hope USO operations on the ground level.

So what could be next?

If I had endless amounts of money, I'd try to open a tiki bar there. I'd probably even keep the space theme. Outer space and underwater are strikingly similar sometimes.

Aesthetically, there's not a huge difference between the the bottom of the sea and the surface of the moon.

Related Posts:
Photo Essay: Retro Digestion in LA's Most Futuristic Restaurant Designs (Updated for 2019)
Photo Essay: The Triforium, A Disco Spaceship Gone Dark

Top Posts of 2019

If you're new to my site this year, welcome and thank you for taking the time to discover something new through my travels and adventures.

If you're a returning visitor, thanks as always for your loyalty and attention. I read all comments on this blog and on social, as well as all emails that come in (though I may not reply right away).

This site has always been a passion project for me. I have a few Google Ads enabled and just installed a digital "tip jar" to help fund the research that goes into these posts—but my blog was never meant to become a business on its own.

I am, however, grateful that it's become a powerful online portfolio of my work, which has led to a longstanding gig as "SoCal Wanderer" for KCET in addition to occasional contributions to the public media company's "Lost LA" and "Artbound" columns.

Some challenges this year—at least, on the technical side—included the permanent shutdown of Google+ in April (which really negatively impacted my traffic from both social and organic search) and the Photobucket power outage at the end of December that rendered nearly all of my images temporarily broken.

Regardless, I think 2019 was a good year for both writing and photography, so I'm proud to share the Top 10 posts of the year (for now, without photos):

1. The Worst of the Superbloom, At Walker CanyonMy heart sank. "People are the worst," I thought, as I climbed higher and away from the crowds.
2. The Tam O'Shanter: The Storybook Inn That Fed Walt Disney (And His Imagination)Disney animators used to eat there so often, they nicknamed it "the studio commissary."
3. Photo Essay: Inside the Fence at Surfridge Ghost Town, LAX AdjacentIt's nice to see something good come out of something bad for once.
4. Photo Essay: The Forgotten Highway Between LA and BakersfieldIt's actually not that easy to follow the entirety of the Old Ridge Route because, like Route 66, its alignment did change—and portions of it were even buried with the construction of the California Aqueduct.
5. Lost Spirits: The Disneyland of Distilleries (After the Fire)Some things are never really lost, if you can clone them later on.
6. Photo Essay: The Warehouse Restaurant, A Marina Eatery for 50 Years and CountingOnce a celebrity hangout, The Warehouse appears to be in the capable hands of its current owners, who bought the business in 1996.
7. Banned from Boeing? Post-Woolsey Fire Edition (Updated)Boeing couldn't possibly be blacklisting me because they didn't want journalists showing up, could they?
8. Photo Essay: The Town That Built The Hoover DamIf you were going to build something big—really big—in the middle of nowhere, you couldn't expect your workforce to commute.
9. Reenacting Western Migration, On the Brutal Stagecoach Route Between LA and San DiegoBy all reports, the journey was, quite simply, treacherous—replete with annoyances, discomfort, and plenty of hardship. 
10. Photo Essay: Riding the Tijuana-Tecate Tourist Train, Upon the 100th Anniversary of "The Impossible Railroad"
    The Tren Turístico is for tourists like me—and it no longer freely crosses back and forth across the U.S.-Mexico border.

I used to set a goal for myself of writing a new post every other day—or, on average, 15 a month, or about 180 a year.

I achieved that goal every year from 2011-15, and came up just a little bit short in 2009-10 and 2016-18.

This year, I had to revise my goal to 2 or 3 posts per week, or somewhere around 100-150 posts for the year. I'm going to come somewhere within that range, though it still feels like I'm falling way short.

If you're hungry for more content than that, I've got a lot of past posts that I continue to update as needed. You can start with my Top Posts of All Time and then move on to the prior years' Top Posts, below.

Related Posts:

Photo Essay: Top Posts of 2018
Photo Essay: Top Posts of 2017
Photo Essay: Top Posts of 2016
Photo Essay: Top Posts of 2015
Photo Essay: Top Posts of 2014
Photo Essay: Top Posts of 2013
Photo Essay: Top Posts of 2012

Photo Essay: Inside the Fence at Surfridge Ghost Town, LAX Adjacent

In many ways, it was a dream come true for me...



...at the site of the worst nightmare for others.



Ever since I first heard about Surfridge—the former bedroom community across from Dockweiler State Beach in Playa del Rey that had been evicted in the 1960s and razed in the 1970s—I've wanted to get inside the fence.



The only hitch was that I wanted to do it legally, rather than invoke the wrath of the LAX airport police, who patrol the area owned by Los Angeles World Airports. And after seven years, I found a way in.



I knew that The Bay Foundation had been doing restoration work on the dunes owned by LAX—but I wasn't convinced that I'd actually get in, so I didn't go until my friend Erin invited me to join her.



I hadn't been to the perimeter in three years; and I hadn't taken a good, hard look through the fence since 2012. I didn't realize that in 2013, even more of Surfridge had been razed—including removing some of the city streets and filling them in with dirt.



Walking up one of the remaining streets—inside the fence, beyond the locked gate—I had a hard time orienting myself without the outlines of old foundations in pink and green tile that I'd practically memorized from seven years ago.



I could tell that Nature had continued to take over—obscuring the sidewalks, bursting through the pavement, erasing the human traces (with just a few exceptions).



Unfortunately, Nature had taken over in some of the wrong ways—with invasive plants choking out the natives that our delicate dune ecosystem so desperately relies on.



On Saturday, we were there to gather the dead remains of black mustard (Brassica nigra), which had clumped together in giant tumbleweeds and lie in dormancy, waiting to spread its seed into the next season.



The invasives are shockingly easy to pull up and out—and not just because of the sandy dunes they grow in. Native plants just have a better stronghold on the earth beneath them because they're supposed to grow there.



Unfortunately, another non-native species invading the dunes is the snail, some of whom stuck like glue to the black mustard branches and got bagged right along with the weeds.



It's amazing how much a dedicated group of volunteers can do in such a short period of time. And it felt good to get to snoop around a place while actually doing something good.



But Erin and I were so easily distracted by the biodiversity of the dunes...



...trying to identify every plant...



...like the late-blooming evening primrose...



...and the Seacliff buckwheat (Eriogonum parvifolium) that the El Segundo blue butterfly exclusively relies on.



We were too late in the season to catch the endemic species of butterfly mating, but we did observe an army of ants normally feasted on by the horned lizard.



I was too distracted by shards of those familiar tiles to even look for a horned lizard...



...or any of the burrowing owls that now call Surfridge home (and are thriving there).



Surfridge really has become a wildlife preserve—and its ownership by LAX (and the airport's inactivity surrounding its development into runways) has really helped Surfridge come to life in new ways after being abandoned so many decades ago.

Some former residents have even come to help restore the habitat.

It's nice to see something good come out of something bad for once.

Will they ever let people back in on a regular basis? I hope not.

Let's just give it back to Mother Nature and see what she does with it, while commercial jets fly over every two minutes.

To sign up for one of the future monthly restoration events, visit The Bay Foundation online.

Related Posts:
Photo Essay: Surfridge, LAX's Beachside Ghost Town - Part One

Photo Essay: Surfridge, LAX's Beachside Ghost Town - Part Two

Photo Essay: Surfridge, LAX's Beachside Ghost Town, Part 3