Never have you witnessed a transformation like the annual miracle at Hollywood and Highland, for as spectacular and grand as the Oscars seem on TV, a first-time trip to Hollywood remains one of America's enduring let-downs.
Was that Jennifer Lopez? Matt Damon or Ben Affleck?
No, just someone scrounging for change.
I remember my first Hollywood visit for the abundance of strip malls and homeless people, for the sun-faded signs above fading Chinese takeaway joints.
It happened to coincide with Michael Jackson's death and people lay flowers on the Walk of Fame, not realising the Michael Jackson star was for a different guy who just happened to share the same name.
To this day, Hollywood itself remains a wasteland of the sad, deluded and confused.
Speaking of, I'll shortly be shoehorned in with the megalomaniacs comprising the world's entertainment press. We'll snarl and shove and sweat and bitch for a golden 15 seconds with Leo or Meryl or Ange.
But am I fortunate to be visiting? Staggeringly so.
I'll be close enough to the iconic red carpet to determine if the academy shells out for drycleaning or just hires a Rug Doctor instead.
And I'll be there on perhaps the only day each year Hollywood lives up to Hollywood.
Bring on the glitz and glam.
Jack Tame is on Newstalk ZB, Saturdays 9am-noon.
