On Santa Monica Beach in Los Angeles, beneath a beach umbrella, Schiller picked up a coconut, took a sip of the juice, then shook his head and said, "This coconut isn't even as good as the ones on the island..."
"These are fast-growing commercial coconut trees. They aren't even native to Los Angeles, so of course they don't taste good." Hal was lying on a lounge chair with a coconut in his arms as well.
Lying on the beach, feeling the sea breeze, and watching the waves was indeed relaxing. But before long, Schiller got to his feet and said, "An old friend invited me to dinner. Do you want to come?"
"No, I'm waiting for the beach party tonight. Los Angeles beach parties are famous. Don't you want to stay?"
"I have no interest in that noisy pop music." With that, Schiller stood up and left. After finishing his coconut, he tossed it into a trash can, then drove to a family-style seafood restaurant in Santa Monica.
After entering the restaurant, he gave his reservation number. The waiter warmly led him to his table, and after he had waited there for a while, another figure walked in.
Clark took off his backpack, sat down across from him, and said, "Professor, sorry. I'm a little late."
"It's nothing. Let's order." Schiller waved to the waiter. After getting the menu, the two ordered quite a few Los Angeles-style seafood dishes.
"I'm sorry, Professor. I shouldn't have disturbed your vacation, but I really am a little troubled... Well, if you don't want to hear it, that's fine too. Just think of it as me taking a trip." Clark looked around the restaurant. Its decor had a distinct West Coast flavor unlike anything he had ever seen.
When the dishes arrived, their rich