If you weren't culturally conscious 20 years ago, you might not realize there were a few brief glorious years when John Travolta was not at all important in any way. Then, In fall of 1994, a young filmmaker named Quentin Tarantino unleashed Pulp Fiction on a nation still reeling from the death of Kurt Cobain, and now we live in a world where Travolta owns his own airport and was allowed to make that awful Scientology movie. That and two decades of "Royale with cheese" quotings aside, Pulp Fiction is a pretty virtuosic piece of filmmaking that also happens to put some mystery back in Los Angeles; it's set in a real version of the city that doesn't include Beverly Hills or backlots, just anonymous apartment blocks in North Hollywood, anonymous suburban bungalows deep in the Valley, and anonymous diners in the South Bay, all packed with evil motherfuckers doing some really evil shit. Right under our noses. So for its twentieth anniversary, here they are, the real spots of Pulp Fiction's real seedy LA.