If you are looking for quiet, mind your own, low crime neighborhoods, Hollywood and Vine is the wrong place to be.
Why I am here is a long story, and why I am waiting for a bus is a short story.
Once upon a time, I made a stupid decision, the end.
I had decided to see if the bus/rail setup in LA would help me get out here in a timely fashion.
This would save a bit of cash as I have to be out here a few times a week for the next few months.
I lived in Portland, OR for a few years, and say what you like about the soft headed hippies of the Pacific Northwest, they know some public transit.
Not so LA.
However, I am stuck up here without a car and am looking at an hour and a half jaunt to get home.
So I have begun amusing myself with examining my fellow travellers.
Nobody really stood out except the guy with the severe facial tick until the pretty girl walked by.
Early 20’s, pretty, long hair, kind of a slutty playboy bunny aura to her.
And the sound of sloppy kissing noises fills the air.
There is a guy leaning up against the building, waiting like we all are.
Mid 50’s, bad skin, black shoes/jeans/tshirt/hair, hair slicked back and greasy looking.
And he has his hand to his mouth making really rude noises.
And the girl walks by, no more than a foot from his, staring straight ahead, totally ignoring him.
Was there a shot in hell that this was going to work?
I mean, you tell me ladies, is that method of pick up the serious “Paintie dropper”?
And then she turns the corner and is gone, and we are left with the guy.
Lets call him Nicky (Mainly because Douchebag is a description, not a name. Lets just say its implied.)
Nicky is a sad substitute for the pretty girl.
At least he has the entertainment potential to somewhat make up for it.
And almost like he could hear my thoughts, like a diva taking to the stage, like Elvis entering the building, Nicky steps up.
He gets on his phone.
What follows is his phone conversation with someone named “Monique”.
I usually use lists and try to keep it to 3, but I am going to break that rule today and simply post his crap with my comments until I have conveyed the wonder that is Nicky:
- I will kill that guy, I need the practice. (Evidently, this is concerning a co-worker who got promoted over him. The death threats went on for 15 minutes. Shooting, stabbing, blowing him up, strangling, and at one point, a threat to kill his cat and then beat him with the carcass.)
- I love you. (Went on for 10 minutes, seriously, nothing else was said, just I love you, over and over again.
- Ronnie isn’t gay, Jamal isn’t gay, and I’m not gay, thats all bullshit. She is lying. (I would love to find out the back story on this one.)
- I am gonna take you to breakfast tomorrow and they have a jukebox that has a lot of Wham on it, I am gonna sing you “Last Christmas”. (I don’t know about Ronnie or Jamal, but Nicky just outed himself in a big way. This was followed by several attempts to sing the song, but he kept forgetting the words.)
- I am drunk. No really, I am drunk. I have been drinking all night. (He tries in vain for 5 minutes to convince Monique that he is drunk. Monique evidently listens to all of this shit and thinks he’s sober?)
- No, I am not on the bus, I am driving my brother’s Mercedes. (LIES!!!)
- No, I didn’t hang up on you, my battery keeps dying. (Then the phone wouldn’t work, dipshit.)
I will admit that Nicky made the whole crappy ride go a little faster.
Especially since he was sitting with the guy who had the severe facial tics.
Putting the two together is an epic thing.
Like a mutant Zigfried and Roy.