Gunnerrific

Downtown LA is not a nice place.  I can’t really say this with any authority, as I was only there for about 2 hours, however I did drive through the heart of it.  And driving through the heart of Downtown LA is like driving to hell and back.  I think I must have seen more than a thousand homeless people.  They were out in droves.  It was kind of surreal, how they shifted about the sidewalks lit by only streetlights, like some sort of zombie movie.  Minus the open sores and whole undead thing.  We also drove by parks that were full of hundreds of people, at 9pm at night, which was also pretty weird.  The party itself was pretty low-key but I had a good time.  Morale of the story: don’t go Downtown unless there is a specific entry plan, an exact well-mapped destination, and a swift exit strategy. 

After the party, it was decided we would go to another work related party, this one in The Valley.  The girl who drove had a fair amount to drink, so I took the reins of the BMW and began driving through parts of LA at night that I did not know even existed.  It was good that I drove because the girl from work, lets call her ‘Jane’, was a barrel of fun.  Jane is probably in her late thirties, has a thick boston accent, and is a tan, big, beautiful woman.  She is not at all the kind of person that I would be interested in with the age and personality difference, but I regularly rely on her for things at work, so we are good buds.  Back to the drive: the 101 at 11pm was practically bumper-to-bumper, which absolutely blew my mind.  Taking directions from the other girl in the backseat, we finally made it to our destination, a ghetto Latin dance club.  WTF.

Me and my other buddy from work are the only white guys in this place, which is mixed with Israeli’s and Latinos.  So now that I’m at the UN dance club summit, I take my place at the table of Whitey Nation and began to examine the scene.  And then wham, the waitress shows up and says "That girl over there wants to buy you a drink, what’ll you have?".  She points to a crowd of about 20 girls, so I’m like "Which one?"  "The one in the skirt."  Oh great.  So the waittress isn’t helping, but now I’ve got a free drink coming.  "I’ll take a Sapphire and Tonic." 

Minutes pass and the group I’m with and I are attempting to dissect the situation.  Being completely new to the singles scene, I have absolutley no idea what is going on.  However, I know its good.  The waitress returns with the drink, and re-examination of the witness begins. "So who did you point at that bought me the drink?"  "That girl behind those three, in the black and white shirt, with the skirt."  Great, now that I’ve got this hammered out, I reply "Thanks very much."  Alright then, let the games begin.

So its just me and Mary White-And-Black-Shirt, or so I was hoping.  My friends and I began to discuss the situation.  I am in the best position to see who this girl is so I keep an eye out for the crowd to break.  As eager as eager can be, I patiently await for a view of who it is.  Finally these other girls get out of the way, and I catch a glimpse.  Who is this mystery girl, waiting there waiving with a grin on her face?  JANE!  So much for that.  With my hopes dashed, I continue the evening with Jane and my friends, while a fog machine belches out fumes and lasers and lights spin about us.

In other news, its a whopping 87 degrees here, which officially constitutes as ‘hot’.