La Jolla Village

Never did  I dream of taking in a movie in La Jolla. My mind had felt numb for a few days. No doubt the blistering San Ana heat had a lot to do with it. The air quality was deadly. Ozone had a chance to multiply and constrict my air ways. 
   The day before, I drove to the La Jolla Village of shops and eateries. Sam the Taxi-Man had driven me to Ralph's there for a King Salmon kosher meal a month earlier.  A rabbi had blessed the food and we unraveled the fish and sauces it to death before devouring it. I had noticed a movie theater then. 
   Now with nine fires gusting overhead, I knew pure air would be my salvation. I drove south to the La Jolla Village off-ramp and took a right. Ahead of me were cars making another left. I followed them into the shopping center. I saw the Landmark theater to my left, and parked in a disable spot in front of the Chase Bank. It was in the late nineties and I strode the the Landmark theater. A gal told me to see the movie about about the artist. Pure oxygen and an avant-garde movie removed the vestiges of dirty air from my air filter. 
   Thursday late afternoon, I felt embalmed inside my YMCA cell. The temperature must have been in the low nineties. The brick walls, like hot coals, impacted my breathing. I took action and took the number 35 OB to smell and listen to the beach sounds. I had a great fish and chips dinner at Shades restaurant.(Ocean Beach)
   I slept an hour or two at a time. I prayed the Santa Clause would provide the westerly fog the San Diego Harbor is known for. I also felt pissed the new Egyptian owners had not installed A/C's inside our death chambers. Hell, a staff member told me they were supposed to upgrade the hotel and not downgrade their long term guests with a mistaken termination notice. 

   Friday was my day. I would survive the worst air catastrophe in the history of San Diego. It would only be in the late eighties. I had used my puffer five times already. My mind felt like a stroke would be next. I saw too many wheel chairs and walkers in the theater. I did not wish to turn into a walker. Again I drank a liter of Sparklet's and asked the theater ticket gal for her recommendations, at the same La Jolla theater.
   "I wish a movie without violence and sex."
   "I have got the one just for you sir. This movie has been hear for two months and instead of dying more an more people wish to see it." 
    "What is the name of it?"
    "The lunch pail. It is about two people who fall in love over food. You have another thirty minutes before it begins at theater four."
   I plucked the eight thirty down and thanked her. My stomach no longer felt nauseous. I had grabbed a rice chicken bowl next to the theater. It did not include the drink or chop sticks. A father and his three small Chinese kids sat next to me. He had removed the remainders of their bowls into his. He ate like it was his last Chinese meal. Ahead, another Asian spoke about buying an A/C for his San Diego College dorm. 
   I entered the theater and removed my shoes. My feet needed air. The theater doors were closed. My lungs sang for the first time in one week. It was an Indian movie with subtitles. Time stopped. I have never- in my life-ever seen a film concerned with every detail. I could only guess the Indians take their food seriously. 
   The two main protagonists held my attention throughout. I won't spoil it for you but the movie changed my life. Now I would never let the love of my life leave me. I would run, run and run until I caught up with Gloria-I said it.   
     
    Saturday morning my prayers were answered. The fog, at last, came back from a one week's vacation. I felt relaxed to have had my first night of almost sleep. I had forgotten what sleep was like at the El Loco Hotel downtown. 
    I took the trolley to my car parked at the Old Town commuter parking lot. I drove to the Harbor Sheraton to buy a coffee and read a complimentary U.T. There was a nice westerly wind that caressed my lungs. I bought a paper since there were none on Saturday. My mind came to life. I picked up a forgotten Wall Street and worked it for ten minutes: The Indians have elected a new minister ousting a Gandhi family; Mel Patton, the fastest runner in the forties died; and Kaiser prescription workers mere thinking of calling it quits on Monday.   
   It is great to be a feel alive! 
 (Check April's 24th of last year for the La Jolla Cove.)