A Trip to Coffee Bean off Pico

These events occurred in Los Angeles as well as Huntington Beach. Again riding the rails seemed to be the only way to car it to Los Angles without screaming obscenities. I took the 29 bus out of Huntington beach in the early morn and made it to the Metro-Link station in Buena Park.
The seven o'clock Metro Link train made two stops before its last at the Union Station. The Asians made up most of the passenger list as they are too smart to head into grid lock on our outdated freeways. In the early morning hours, the 5 freeway became a parking lot for five hours to allow the ambulances, tow trucks and investigators to do their jog. By the 405 freeway, a Torrance oil refinery blew its stack causing drivers to click on their window wipers.
    But smarty pants, me, took my $3.&50 cent train ticket and tapped it on a turnstile for a ride underground on the Purple Line train out of Union Station. I sat down with my knap sack and finished off two hard boiled before train whistled to our first stop, Civic Center....
     "Our next stop is Seventh Street.  Don't forget to bump your tap card again if transferring on the Blue or Expo line. Our next stop is Vermont. Those who wish to transfer to the Red Line can get off here on the way to the valley and Universal City.
      Western, the end of the line, was my stop. From there I counted out fifty cents in change and deposited the coins into drop box. The ride on the Blue Rapid felt great. I could get all the way to Pico's Coffee Bean on Pico by riding one bus. The bus drives south on Crenshaw and picks up workers at each stop. With each stop more and more Santa Monica College students enter with a few homeless.
       Elm streets looms up. I pull the cord and exit to the Glatt Market where I bought a large plum for one dollar and twenty a pound and three navel oranges ripe to eat at 69 cents. I knew the oranges would be sweet if there skin felt like a baby's.  .
       Up the street I found my large yellow sun hat. It belonged to my brother Mel's surrogate Mother, Connie Glickman. She smiled and stood up to greet me. We hugged and chatted for awhile. The sun felt a bit hot, but not as hot as yesterday's ninety degrees.
 "How's Mel doin George."
  "He is doin remarkably well when you consider he looked dead a couple of weeks ago. He is now eating and beginning to walk. I make sure the health center provides a lot of salad and meats for him -- unlike the poor quality of food at his assistant living center."
   "What happened. I know he had returned from a two month stay in an Santa Ana hospital and now this!"
     "It is a catch 22. He had suffered from bed bug bites earlier and all of the sheets had been removed. It seems that his psychotic roommate had returned from a hospital twice which may have contributed to his bladder infection, ear problem, and total blindness."
      "By the way, Connie, are you still on one aspirin a day -- and that's all."
       "My eye is my only problem. I can see around me but not right at me."
       "Is the Bag Lady of Pico still living with you?"
        "Got a call from a detective. He needs more evidence to remove her from the back bedroom. But no longer does she throw salt on my bed or steal my food. Apparently a detective talked to her social worker."
        "Excuse me a minute. I need to buy a Mocha. Can I get you anything?"
         She replied in the negative and I got into line for my drink. I noticed that the bag lady was working her lab top to my right. She didn't notice me but was entrenched looking down at phone numbers of future victims of her scam. Her nose was flanked by her long black hair that swept the top of her long black pants. Hence, I have called her the Black Widow.
          Afterwards we took the seven bus up the street to Westwood to see a movie about a women o a train who saw a killing. I backtracked on the bus all the way to Union Station where I took a delayed Metro back to my bus at the station.