The Alaskan Express rushed in to Orange County, without a drop of rain. No longer could I remain in my mold infested apartment. My head had filled up with mucus but still I could not remove the anguish felt for the Son of my Dad Harry.
Mad as Hell, sleep no longer beckoned. I felt startled that Mel too had not been seen by his primary physician at the Sea Cliff Health Care Center from the very time he entered the House of Drugs, by the name of Joseph Nassir. His eye lid still covered his eye and the shuttle for his ear appointment had not shown up. He has suffered with a cancerous ear for over two years.
I trip to Los Angles would be just the ticket while I waited for the #33 to arrive outside my apartment on Monday early morning. The bus arrived late but it felt good that I would leave Surf City and transfer to the City of Angles by taking four buses and two trains.
I caught the #560 bus in the nick of time and sat back to relax. A lady across from me took up more than her share of seats and looked my way. What sounded like a Baptist preacher came on board.The black lady recited words from the bible and must have known the lady across from me as they dueled using profanity. The black bus driver did nothing except to laugh and scream, "Keep ii Down".
"Uz noting but a fat ass an don't even have a place to stay...I stay with my Mom and Pop and God loves me every day." The heavy set white lady rebounded and ran the distance of the floor.
""You have been kicked out of three shelters fighting everybody."
After five minutes of volleying fowl language back and forth, I waved my hands to the white lady and told her to not react. She listened to my directions. I didn't know we would be seat mates on the ensuing downtown Long Beach 91 and again on the Blue Line train headed for Los Angeles Stacy sat on the two seats on front of me.while the opened doors allowed the heavy cold winds to make it a threesome
"No to worry...A yardman will be here soon to solve the problem."
"How long have you known the preacher lady?"
"Been to three shelters with her and each one kicked her. Was living in a Santa Ana shelter till recently."
"Where is your stop?"
"Compton. My daughter rents a room in her boyfriend's mother's house. He has a problem and I am going to persuade them to move in with me...I moved into a six bedroom Santa Ana house three months ago."
"How much is the rent?"
"Bought it for $987,000 at a probate sell. A friend of mine knew that the owner and his wife tangled in a mess divorce. My bid was the lowest and since I put down over $200,000 the court awarded it to me. I have rented out two of the bedrooms and have my own bath. My payments are a bit over $900 a month."
My head hurt but not from the head cold. How in the hell did Stacy save up to put the heavy down?
"Awarded $1,800 several years ago as a government worker. Have had three seizures. Saved a lot in T.J living in a two bedroom $150 apartment. Kicked out since I didn't legal papers so living in shelters ever since."
Stacy showed me a tattoo on her upper arm. See that? Says Vato loca. No gang messes with me now. But Stacy, how did you get the $200,00 down payment."
"Had a great Dad, and he warned me to always save for a rainy day or when I retired. Idon't spend the government check and my stay in the shelters includes free food All of my medical bills are paid.
The train's breaks are fixed and the Blue Line Train lurches forward. The three asleep riders remain in bliss as I am happy to be on my way to Los Angeles. The tracks to down Pacific to Eight and then Long Beach Blvd.
Outside the pure clean air has turned what began in a draconian beginning into a quite lovely day with Stacy awarding me with lots of tidbits. At Willow a family climbs aboard and I overheard the grandmother announce they are headed for Santa Monica Beach. They are well dressed and the two kids are well behaved
Stacy gets off at Compton Station while I enjoy the circus on the Blue Line train At Seventh, I get off and slide down a peg to the Purple Line Train. My stop is Western and a Slam Bang All American breakfast at Dennis. Outside now, the clean blue sky tells me another day of bliss is in store for me. Today, even with a heavy head, I feel as good as any of our dear presidents with a piece of L.A. as my own home.
But on this cool and windy day, first things first. I am famished and allow the crossing guard to tell me to cross Wilshire. I make it to the other side and fast walk towards Dennis. I forget it is President's Day but what the hell, a few minutes of wait never hurt George Washington when he crossed the Delaware.
Everyone speaks Spanish, but what the hell, I mine-as-well learn it just the same. The waitress comes to my table and I give her my order. She returns with my coffee and orange drink. I empty two sugar packets into my coffee cup and stir. My body jumps at the first sip, and with an orange juice chaser, I regain my sanity.
Across from me a large muscular traffic cop sits navigating a hamburger sandwich He studies his smart phone with his free hand. All Awhile I feel great to witness the changing of the guard. The Mexicans have arrived and will not give up California again. Of course they will not give up their native tongue.
The food was a little late, but who cares since I am learning more Spanish. The pancakes along with its usual of beacon, ham, hash browns and scrambled eggs. I hold the syrup bottle upside down and play target practice on the pancakes.
I chew on the cakes and his relatives at the same time. In no time I finish, pay the tip and then run out the door. My Super Seven is turning the corner so I wait for the next. No hurry since they come every few minutes
Fifty Cents I place into the coin machine and take a seat. The Purple Line train will be completed up until La Cienega Blvd in a few days, and then all the way to Rodeo Drive. I think that it ease the stress of the three sisters, Olympic, Wilshire and Pico.
No comments:
Post a Comment