They’re not Tricks Michael … They’re Illusions

The Magic Castle is the private clubhouse for the Academy of Magical Arts. The castle, built in 1909, sits atop a hill in Hollywood and it is strictly members only. You can attend if you are a member of The Academy of Magical Arts, or if you are an invited guest of a member. I’ve been there several times before, and last night was again an invited guest. 

The Magic Castle is an exquisite old Victorian building with lush fixtures. Upon entering, you walk through a library of lined bookshelves and a velvet interior towards the magic owl. You must know the password to enter. (I will not give up all the secrets of the Magic Castle, but any 3rd grader can guess what it is). The library wall then slides open bringing you into a small hallway that opens into a lounge area complete with an exquisite staircase and large stone fireplace. After saddling up to the bar, you can then pick and choose various performances to attend, or enjoy Irma the ghost piano player who will play anything from old standards to Eminem while you wait to be seated for dinner, or you can stop by any number of small tables throughout the hallways to enjoy tricks by random magicians. Either way, your evening is full of illusions and wonderment. Dinner is pricey, but delicious with simple dishes, like pasta with an elegant flair, all the way up to seafood specials and filet mignon.

Being a die hard fan of Arrested Development, I can only assume Gob was mocking the wonders of the Magic Castle in his “magic” act.  In fact, “The Final Countdown” played in my head like a soundtrack as I walked thru the winding hallways.  Although, the act from Portugal last night was able to not only produce several live doves outta thin air, they all, thankfully, remained alive.

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