A Visit to the U.S.C Campus

Like I told you in earlier blogs, I saw the Internal Revenue about two weeks ago in San Diego. My three hours wait felt worth it. I lost a lot of baggage I had been carrying around for years...of course  I had some good reasons not to pay, and don't we all. (Their offices are on Front and E Streets off of Broadway.) 
  In order to begin saving my small retirement check, I knew I had no choice but to live out of my car a night or two. Thursday evening was one of those nights. I left the rest stop at about three in the morning. 
    Dennis' welcomed this tired traveler at about three Friday morning. I felt powerful to have slept a few winks earlier at the rest stop -- and avoided the weekend fee of $72 a night at the Motel Six. As a matter of fact, the fresh ocean breeze at the rest stop unclogs my nasal passages.
    The first stop going south is the entrance to Oceanside. Two gas stations and the reliable Dennis welcomed me. And I did not feel tired, but did feel hungry. I ordered the Dennis Senior Grand Slam which is a hyperbole for Slim Pickings: a little sausage, half a bacon, and one egg....I used their restroom to wash and shave. The hostess filled a paper going-away-cup for me and out the door an onto the beginning of Oceanside drive.
    The early Metro-Link train would leave at 4:40 and I arrived with my car about three thirty. I purchased a one-way ticket from the machine for seven fifty and returned to my car. I placed  my General Douglas MacArthur  inside my nap-sack and a few toiletries that included my thyroid pills.
    I climbed aboard at about four thirty and enjoyed the feeling of the night. I cat-napped when I heard the lurching of the train. A lone lady passenger sat in front of me. The World War Two General kept me company as I tried to learn the names of Islands in the South Pacific. I became General MacArthur during the train ride. A bevy of passengers got on between Irvine and  Bellflower stations n fact, each compartment on the six car train was packed with sleepy commuter travelers.
   We arrived at Union Station just before six thirty. I knew the library opened at ten so I had three hours to waist. Instead, I thought about visiting the U.S.C. campus early in the morning. The B Dash deposited me at the Flower and Fifth Station. About six commuter trains stopped there in the early morning but who wishes to live in Saugus or West Covina?

For a quarter, the F Dash dropped me off at the Figueroa U.S.C. Campus. I walked towards the book store and stopped to enjoy the water fountain in front of a white Trojan Horse. A Security guard took a few pictures and I ambled further to the Heritage Museum. That is where the Athletic Offices are located.
To my amazement, I saw a T.V. truck and lights to the side of the Museum. About four tried to work the lenses to get the correct picture. At about eight o'clock a good looking blond sat down and spoke like a sportscaster. She reminded me of my first wife, always chatting about something...The camera men still tried to get the correct color combination for the interview 
   If the Athletic Office  was twelve o'clock, the interview was a nine o'clock with the sun peeking through at six o'clock. Each time the sun moved, their dials and dots needed to be adjusted -- just like life. I passed out my card and knew they would trash it. 
   Was that him?...Was I seeing things? A bright yellow headed man came out of twelve o'clock with a thin one. The thin one had spoken to the interviewee earlier. I knew it had to be the Trojan coach. The thin man told me he would ask him for an interview later. I didn't get one. On their return, I gave the thin man two chapters of my Schindler Story and walked towards the Doheny Library 
   In front of Tommy Trojan a tour guide expounded the pluses of  signing up for good-old U.S.C. to a bunch of high school students and their parents...I met with Claude Zachery inside his cubicle. He works in Archivist Special collections. He told me to return to the book store as a publisher is on the third floor. She was not in but i did get the number for Tiffany Quon. 
   U.S.C. is a city within a city. I felt rich with excitement until I saw workers digging up Wilshire Blvd just outside downtown library.  I asked  an inspector what the digging was all about. 
   "We are doing the electrical work first before the Gold Line comes to downtown...The main streets had workers digging all the way to La Brea. It appeared the Purple Line would impinge on Beverly Hills where I am writing this piece of prose today. 
   The good news is that I saved seventy dollars by not staying at a motel.