The Year of the Sheep

Desperately I needed to get away from Carlsbad. My sinuses were raising a fuss and my teeth couldn't take it any more. I decided to visit my daughter who lived in Los Angeles. I had not seen her in over three months.
   It took me only a few minutes to drive from the Motel Six to the Oceanside Transit Center. A line had already formed at the Metro-Link ticket machine. The weekends provide all-day ticket for ten dollars-and all the way to Los Angeles. You could get off at any one of the many train stops and jump back on with the same ticket. Most of those in line were Chinese. I asked a Latina girl where she was headed.
   "We are headed for China Town. They are celebrating the Year of the Sheep." Hey you can probably walk there from Union Station. "You are correct, and so we will walk." I bought my ticket and noticed about forty people waiting in back of me. Many would not have time to buy the ticket since the train would depart at eight fifteen.
    The Chinese gummed up the sticky line. Many were jamming the machine with their master cards rather than just slipping them in. The machine would not work, and besides there limited use of English did not help this transaction.
 
   I got on board happy to get away. Nobody got on at the San Clemente. When we arrived at our third stop, San Juan Capistrano, a herd of Chinese climbed aboard and found seats. Even more jumped on at Santa Ana and Orange. The conductor's voice came on board.
     "For those who can't find a seat, another train is right behind us. You can leave and wait only about twenty minutes but will get a seat." Time and time again, the announcement was made without nary anybody leaving.
      After Santa Ana, I did see acres and acres of dead, almost dead, or those hanging on for dear life. The orange trees dropped a whitish gray everywhere. Now and then, I saw an orange tree clinging to life with a few dull oranges on it.  As a matter of fact, One almost dead tree screamed at me.
      "We  n e e d w a t e r?  Can't you help?" I responded.  "Mr. Weather man says a storm is brewing. I will pray for you." A few stops later, my eyes dropped down on streams and the Santa Ana River that were bone dry.

      By this time the chu-chu out of Oceanside was full. Almost all spoke Chinese. Finally. after our stop out of Norwalk, the train lumbered into Grand Central Station. I have never seen the platform steps so crowded until I went to the washroom.
     Would you believe about fifty ladies lined up for their turn in the wash room. There were only about ten ahead of me in the old one hundred year old bathroom. Six urinals did not seem enough. I the made my way to the underground and paid one dollar and seventy cents to go on the Red Line for the Wilshire and Western blvd stop.
      I got off and the 720 Express bus and later the number 14 got me to my destination. It took only about three hours for me to arrive at my destination. And by the way, my sinus became clear and I got the present of my life, to see my daughter.