We pulled into Los Angeles in the late afternoon, although we didn't see the city before nightfall. It took me a while to find an Amtrak luggage agent who had the power and desire to hear my pleas to keep our bikes overnight at the station. We were going to be spending the night at a cheap motel near the train station, and the last thing I wanted to do was drag a couple of bike boxes through the alleys of L.A.
We eventually got the luggage issue squared away, although it was kind of a don't ask don't tell situation. We weren't supposed to leave luggage at the station, but the agent kindly hinted that forgotten luggage was a different story.
So we made our way out onto the street of Los Angeles, and didn't have much trouble finding our motel. It was an amazing little place. The Korean-appearning employee at the desk barely spoke English, the signs were all in unrecognizable characters, and the rooms were furnished with striking cherrywood cabinets. We were in Chinatown!
As soon as we figured where we were, we ran back down to the front desk to get some directions to dinner. What started out as us asking for the employee's opinion on where we could find some Southeast Asian delicacies quickly devolved into me just asking him to point to food. I need to learn Korean.
But the place that we found was actually one of the most amazing Chinese restaurants that either one of us had ever been to. The first thing that we noticed was its size. Despite having a humble entrance that we easily could have missed, the restaurant was easily 10,000 square feet, divided up into 10 or so rooms the sizeof the average high school class room. And not only was it big, but it was packed! Even at 10pm on a Tuesday, every seat in the house was full. There were small children celebrating birthdays, elderly groups gathering for a quiet dinner, business deals going on all around us, and two white people who looked like they were on a train for the last 10 hours. The place was more of a community center than a restaurant.
But once the food came out, we knew that we were somewhere special. The egg rolls (which cost somewhere south of $5) came out by the dozen. The entree plates were easily the size of basketballs, and the food was spectacular. We had enough left overs to last us for the next three meals (literally), and couldn't remember the last time we had tasted anything so amazing. And the check ended up being in the ballpark of $20, which would have been incredible in any city, let alone Los Angeles.
I wish I could remember where that place was (or even its name), but I have the strong feeling that it was a Studio 54-like Nirvana of a Chinese food haven for weary travelers. If we somehow managed to find our way back the next day, we would have found in its place a creepy butcher shop with three years of filth on the floor.
