Built over the desert’s objections, Los Angeles is a city that glorifies water. I was struck by the patent absurdity of this the other day, when I was having dinner with a friend who was visiting from Central Australia (another desert). We ate our delicious Mexican dinner in the Farmers Market, then strolled over to The Grove, where we watched the dancing fountain.
And really, what says “Fuck you, Nature!” better than a fifty-thousand gallon koi pond punctuated by forty jets shooting water sixty feet into the air and periodically breaking into carefree choreography to the tune of “America the Beautiful?”
Maybe Las Vegas.