Regret I have been too ill to write, but I live in the dirtiest city in California-Huntington Beach. Too inflict more pain, my apartment, the Beach Nut, provides no security and management does not treat the pervasive mold inside each apartment. Now even the library is locked up as the Mom and Pop owners don't even wish to pay for security. The bad air has made me run to Los Angles just to breath clean air. It lies off of Main across from Trader Joe's. Ya see, Surf City does not have the Santa Monica westerlies that remove the dust and dander from the city. The grime make it grim for those with asthma or other lung problems. Firetrucks and ambulances make Florida Street their home. I have scene four come to the Beach Nuts in a matter of five hours.
Besides having the worst air quality, Surf City has a problem with identity theft and decent transportation. It takes over two hours to drive to L.A. and over an hour to get to the Metro Station. Some tell me that the city is run by the tire companies like Firestone or Goodyear.
Granted its beaches are beautiful and the surf is not quite as good as OB or Ocean Beach in San Diego but not bad at that. And it is great to listen to music or watch the volleyball games, but at what price. Every other is an alcoholic or addicted to food.
Every-so-often, I need to visit my brother's surrogate Mom, who is 95 years young and does not even take aspirin. She lives in a view-of-L.A. home overlooking the city in the Beverly Wood area of West L.A. Why about two years ago, she performed at the Comedy Club in West Hollywood and left them in stitches, laughing so hard that they screamed for an encore.
All-day it took just to get a prescription refill. My doctor left without filling it and they told me to return the next day. The Kaiser In-N-Out Clinic is across the street from its cousin the In-n-Out Burger off of Beach Blvd. and Wal Mart's. It is a waist of time to call the pharmacy and the doctors seem to be on a vacation when you need yours. But I finally received my antibiotics at four o'clock and somehow made it home.
Connie wanted me to drive her to Santa Monica to pay a traffic ticket and also give me another chapter of a book I am writing about her life. Her Dad died when this Canadian immigrant's Dad tried to sell furs coats in Los Angeles. She was only twelve. Since her principal thought she possessed kissing lips he sent her toe Kresses Drug Store to work selling penny candies at a quarter an hour. It helped her Mom who took in a second job cleaning homes in the upscale area of Central avenue.
Five thirty on Monday Morn and I am waiting for the 29 A Metro Huntington Beach bus. Since the bus drivers change like the weather each day, I have learned to ask if they are going to the Metro since I don't wish to be stranded in Anaheim. I always make sure to ask the current bus driver if they go to the train station.
The bus arrives, I drop my two quarters down a slot and slide my dollar in a slip. The driver hands me the all-day Octa pass and I walk to the back of the bus to sleep or read. It is pitch black at five thirty. I fall asleep when I feel something touch my leg. A young homeless gal with her pants half off is sharing her leg with me.
Well now no longer was I in a deep sleep. This young urchin did not stop touching me with her leg, but by and by it didn't feel that bad. And she had a cute face even though the booze turned me off a bit, but not all the way.
"Mam, if you don't mind, keep your hands to yourself. I am old enough to be your Dad."
"I like handsome old man dressed in black. Take me to a motel and I'll show you a good time."
"Miss, don't touch me there, it hasn't been used in a long long time. Besides, I have two grand kids to think about...ouch, not so hard!"
Just then the screeching sound of the bus signaled a wheel chair would soon be boarding. The bus driver turned a key and a small platform fell outside the bus. A legless man wheeled himself aboard and the busy bus driver locked him in and returned to the front of the bus. Five more miserable people came on board, mainly women with hairs that went where the wind blew.
One must have put in about twenty coins while another mashed her dollar bill so it could not penetrate the slot. The bus driver unwrinkled the bill and slid it inside. But I had a gal that would not let my legs alone to rid myself of. I made a mistake of using too much Musk cologne, and pressed slacks.
"My stop is next. Can you give me a few dollars."
"Detach your hands from me and I will."
The now pant-less lady drank the rest of her coke bottle and dragged herself off the bus. I dare say that all of the men smiled as now her pants fell to the floor revealing a tattooed exterior. Her must have been pimp stood outside and pulled her pants up.
The 29 A bus arrived at the Metro Station about seven thirty. Again, most of those waiting for the train to L.A. appeared Asian. Cars drove up to allow for their hubbies to wait for the train. A few Vietnamese lifted their legs or did other exercises. The know how to eat and exercise, not wasting any moment to boredom.
My wallet screamed at me. Why didn't you look. You need another dollar to ride the Metro. I walked to the benches and begged for another dollar.
"Need another dollar to ride."The Vietnamese gave me a funny look. I would take a chance and enter without a ticket. A young gal approached me and to my good fortune she spoke in English.
"Here sir is two dollars...It is my pleasure."
It was fortunate since Henry, my favorite conductor, checked our tickets with is gadget. After the train pulled into Norwalk, I looked through the window and looked at the San Gabriel mountains. Hunt and Fedco trucks lined in large yards while a train carrying cars of coal passed by. Soon walls of graffiti graced the scenery as the train curved around.
There was the projects of Pico Garden Apartments where I had dinner in 1964 with a member of the Pancho Villas army.. A kid invited me to the projects. Rabbits ran free everywhere. I remembered another time when I took five kids to a Dodger baseball game. A mob of busy travelers disembarked.
"You are the cutest gal I have seen in quite awhile."
Across from me sat a cute little young lady dressed in a short yellow spring dress. She sat with her legs cross on the seat revealing an appetizing figure ,of course much to young for me. She had concentrated on her Apple computer all the way. Her big eyes darted this way and that. Excitement ruled her eyes.
Inside the Metro station now, I did my toilet at the old antiquated broken down restroom and turned to play the piano in the waiting area, but not today. Rodgers had beaten me to the punch. He was dressed to a tea and playing jazz the way it was meant to be played. The multicolored piano player was dressed in wild colors with a sash over his shoulder. His fingers danced over the keys like they came with the piano.
"How long did you take lessons?"
"Took for a few months private. Join me at the Good Shepard Church this weekend."
I then taped my Metro ticket and took the the stairs the subway stairs to the waiting the Purple Line train. It would take me to Western and Wilshire where the Rapid Blue would take me down Pico. But my stomach felt hungry. Across the street stood Denny's.
"I'll take the Slam Bang...Thank you. For those still reading, come back another time since my pancakes,eggs, and bacon might get cold.
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