Palm Springs
December 2, 2004
Well, honestly, I haven’t seen much of it yet. I loved the plane ride from Phoenix to Palm Springs. Once we were terrestrial, it was kind of like driving around in southwest Florida—a whole lot of asphalt with chain stores and some palm trees here and there. Plus, there is the whole Bob Hope thing. I really am expecting him or Bing Crosby to emerge from stage left, highballs in hand, crooning… something. I am staying at the resort where, supposedly, Irving Berlin wrote “White Christmas.” I have a meeting tomorrow in the Frank Capra room, for crying out loud.
Posted by Bill Trippe at December 2, 2004 1:03 AM
