Seaport Village

Today we had an heat advisory. I wished to go to the dance at Balboa Park. Without a working air-conditioner, I left the Motel Six and removed myself to the Senior Center in Encinitas.Too bored or tired to write another blog, I stole from my sketch book from the World of George. I edited the story so you would not be too bored. 

   On my return trip to downtown San Diego, I backtracked to the Grantville  trolley station and took the elevator to the rails above. The trolleys came every fifteen minutes during the day. A few homeless entered. Their unruly hair reached their shoulders. Spots covered their jeans and missing teeth made them appear older. One passenger placed his hood over his nose
   A few dread-locks came aboard carrying their babies They were too young to be fathers but I guessed they had nothing better to do. Each of the two men showed off their geographical underwear, with the battered jeans sweeping the floor. After placing their earphones on, they checked their messages.
   They ignored the sound of their screaming babies. Thus their babies learned to either scream louder or keep their wants inside Several passengers scurried to far-away seat. They spoke in their native guttural tongues using a language only suitable for the drudges of society. One spoke to his older kid.
   "What you eating dude. Give me bite. Did you Mama give you money?...Shut up Billy when I talk." Baby Billie made me stick ear plugs inside my ear. I needed more tissue for my bleeding nose Their stench suffocated me.

   I took another trolley to my cell at the 500 building. I felt good to have a roof over my head and a place to sleep for a change. The trolley ride, walk, and medication provided me with new-found energy for the day. My head felt lighter. Exhausted, I spent the rest of the day lying down before my stomach woke me up. It needed pasta. My stomach remembered a place by the Harbor that served spaghetti.
   Seaport Village is bordered on the East by the Brick Yard Cafe, Hyatt Manchester Regency and the Embassy Hotel.. West is the Harbor and the Fish Cafe and the ship the Midway. The hot day dried my caked nostrils while my body kicked my cold down to my butt. I felt normal. I limped to the Harbor area and turned left.
   I ran into monuments to World War 2, next to the big aircraft carrier Midway. The Japanese had flocked to the iconic statue of a sailor kissing a nurse at the end of World War 2.Yet I smelled the pasta shop inside the village of eateries and shops. My few remaining dollars would not deny my desire for an Italian evening.
   After walking a few steps, I found the spaghetti restaurant. I noticed that the meat balls were a dollar more for each. "Can I order the spaghetti with two meat balls please. After a few minutes, they called my number and I picked up my nine dollar Italian treat.
   Two skateboarders wheeled in noise. I hastily removed my plate to an outside metallic table. It faced the merry-go-round and other high-priced eateries. A cool breeze came off the ocean and my nose picked up the scent of salt water, and the many assortments of food. No longer did I need sick-bay.
 
   A small baby sparrow joined me for dinner, tipping its beak as if to say "Hello". It beckoned for a tidbit of spaghetti. I disregarded a sign that read, "Don't feed the birds."  I placed one string of the dish on the table. All awhile, the grounded pigeons stared up envious of the little birdie. They took straw vote to to  who would kick her off the table.
  The grounded flock of pigeons looked up and admired the little cock-sure-birdie. The Sparrow poked off a string and spliced it into little strands.But the left over string was too much for the Sparrow A few seconds later, a battered one legged pigeon claimed its rightly spot and kicked the little Sparrow off of his perch.
  Now several pigeons perched on the now busy table. Since my Rebbe told me to share my wealth with the less fortunate, I placed more strands on the table. One flew to my plate and placed its beak into the sauce. The pigeons fought over the remains of the day.
   Yet the one who ate first got the last laugh. The little Sparrow no longer had to split the spaghetti. The birds above dropped tidbits for this no-longer hungry foul. Just then a hunched over little lady with more wrinkles than an old dollar bill spoke to me using some gibberish.
   "Senor, no coma, no coma los Birds. The small little Mexican worker admonished me for feeding God's creatures who once came over on Noah's Arc. I told her the birds drove away my loneliness. I still missed my ex-girl friend Gloria.
   Just then a gorgeous blond gal asked if she could sit with me. "Ah, ah" I thought. The rabbi was right. Just maybe he has sent on to replace the talkative one from San Pedro. We spoke for several minutes but who listened. Her plunging neckline made it difficult to hear that her third husband lay upstairs in the Hyatt.  She told me her name and what she had on top was nothing compared to her short skirt that revealed a better bottom.
    "I have to go now. My husband is waiting for me. Give me your number and we can get together later. My third is boring me to death."
     "Why my little Della, a two years ago I wouldn't have hesitated. I would love to make it with you...but today, I am a reborn Jew  and  Adultery is simply out of the question." 
     My cold had flown away with the Harbor breezes. I decided to spend my last two bucks on the very Merry-go-round I had been on in Santa Monica beach as a young kid. but I was not alone. The Sparrow had followed me and now was fluttering overhead. and thanking me. The wooden horse didn't seem to mind seeing that many old spectators laughed at my frolic.
    They had never seen a real old man ride a horse. Yet they joined me detaching the four dollar fare from their pockets.And guess what sat on the horse in front of me...My friend the Sparrow. It was singing a song of a long time ago: Sparrow in the tree-top, Sparrow in the tree top..."
    No longer lonely and with my nose signing off to my surge of bronchitis, I returned to my dingy 500 building with a new found energy. The little bird gave me what I needed and my girl friend could not: a lot of laughter and visions of better days ahead of me. , . .