Don’t get it twisted: go to the rooftop bar. Go to the smoky afterhours drug den whose only rule is NO PICTURES. L.A. is teeming with bizarre, awe-inspiring establishments, some of which don’t even charge a cover. But it also has some of the most jaded, affected clientele, who can impose an air of casual disinterest on even the most viscerally exhilarating of venues. So pinch yourself every now and then. Sure, everyone looks bored (why are they here?), but deep inside, their 12-year-old selves are screaming, “I can see everything from here! I really feel like I’ve ‘made it.’ Is that a fire pit in a pool?! Ohmygoshsocoolwooo!” No need to go overboard with it or anything, but being a giddy, gawky dummy every now and then helps keep you honest.
Never get comfortable at a rooftop bar.