LA in a Day

3:58 AM Friday morning. The alarm on my dresser goes off. If I don't take a shower and rinse the sleep off my body, I very well may go back to my winter night's slumber. I have a meeting to attend in LA today, just one meeting, so I wanted to fly in, go to the meeting, and fly home, all in the same day. The cheapest flight? Our old friends at jetBlue. The Tortilla Soup of airlines. My flight leaves at 6:05 going into Long Beach. My meeting is in Downtown LA. I didn't want to rent a car, simply due to the fact that I would be there such a short time, and so I mapped out my route on the Los Angeles Public Transportation website. I figure if I can get around NY, I can get around just about anywhere.

5:09 AM I arrived at the airport. After parking in economy lot and taking the shuttle into the terminal, I check in at the kiosk and make my way to the security checkpoint to be dis-robed. I am confident at sometime in the future all air travel will be done in a bath robe and flip flops. There is nothing more frustrating than getting dressed, driving to the airport to get undressed. Where is my velcro jumpsuit when I need it...

5:27 AM I settled into my seat in the boarding area and look up at the person in front of me, and lo and behold, it's my mother-in-law's cousin, Tim Hansen. Now, that sounds like a pretty distant relative, but I know him pretty well. He's traveling with his daughter Kasey and his youngest son, Travis. They are on their way to the BYU football game in San Diego, but just happen to be traveling on the same flight as I am. You see, Fran, Tim's wife, works for jetBlue. I think it is my dream at some point in my life to work for an airline, or maybe someone in my family work for an airline. The kind of spur of the moment, last second jet-setting across the globe reserved only for the multi-million rich, can be yours for just these several thousand reservation-inquiring calls a day.



6:10 AM Seat 21A. The window. Nothing can be better than the window. The problem of having to walk over others to go to the bathroom, even if they are asleep, has never been a fear of mine. I am somewhat of an aviation nut. Anything and everything about flying consumes me. I would be a pilot if I could. Put Jodi and the kids in my pocket, and live out of the flight deck bathroom. So, naturally, I need to see the decisions the pilot is making out the window. Sitting next to "Buddy" and "Jim", the loud talker and the rugby fan, respectively, I ease back into my leather chair and proceed to dine on 1 hr and 45 min of in flight television on the back of the seat in front of me. DirectTV right before my eyes. I found a new love, and combining it and flying just about sent me into a tizzy. It's called: VH1 Classic. What that means for you younger generations is that it's what MTV used to be. Actual music videos. So there I sat, orange juice on ice, watching Tommy Tutone, Cindy Lauper, Roxette, Eddie Money, The Scorpions, and Terence Trent D'Arby entertain me at 35,000 feet. I would recommend you take a look at the VH1 Classic website here

9:15 AM I am sitting in a Polly's Pies Restaurant with Tim and his kids. He asked if I was going anywhere for breakfast, I indicated I had nothing going until 3:00 that afternoon so, as long as it wouldn't take 6 hours I was in. Polly's is SoCal's version of a Marie Calendar's or Village Inn, but with more syrup. I guess they're famous for their pies, but they are also famous now for their Pumpkin Spice Oatmeal Pancakes. At Tim's recommendation, he'd been there a few times, I dialed this little number in, and now I will be thinking about them for quite some time. Funny to me how someone from out of town, not in the "know" goes to a restaurant and thinks they've found this great little place. Only to find out, it's a chain, and not that good. I don't see anyone else raising their hand right now. Okay, maybe it's just me. The first time I was in NYC a business associate and I were walking around the financial district looking for a place for dinner. Neither of us had been there, so we wanted a true NY experience. Well, we found this little place called "Houlihan's". It was great! We thought we had stumbled onto a little gem of a place in New York that we could tell our friends all about. A few days later we were talking with someone from another part of the country, and he let us in on a little secret...it's a chain. No matter, I am less naive now. Somewhat. But I know good food when I eat it. Tim insisted on buying, despite my arguments to the contrary. So thank you Tim. I must travel near relatives more often.

10:39 AM
After an incredible breakfast, Tim schlepped me on over to the nearest Metro Rail station which happened to be on the Pacific Coast Highway. I knew California was in here somewhere. The Metro is the Trax of LA. Just a local commuter with smelly cars, lots of stops and cheap fare. $1.25 to ride anywhere in the Greater LA area. I ran over to the Chevron station for some cash and gum. No bars on the windows, but the bullet proof plexi-glass was about 5 inches thick. "Thank you, and have a nice day" I told him. He only nodded, either because he didn't speak English, or he didn't trust my suited attire. As I walked onto the platform a feeling came over me that I haven't had in a long time. About 16 years to be exact. I had the distinct realization that I was the only one in a suit, and the only Caucasian around. Except this time I wasn't in Japan. I was sticking out between two individuals; one woman who looked like she was on her way to work, and one man, we'll call him "Huggy Bear", looked like he was on his way home from work. I shuffled onto the Metro, found a seat, and put my earphones in. My playlist? It should have been Bruce Springsteen, or Sheena Easton's Morning Train, but it was raining hard, and Simon & Garfunkel seemed appropriate. Riding north we passed through Compton, Watts, Florence, and then on into Downtown LA. All places I am sure many of you have been while visiting the LA area. By the view out the area, I realize this is the LA I am not familiar with. I never knew ornamental rod iron could be so extensive. My Metro buddies, as I have now titled them, got on and off with expressionless precision. About halfway through the ride a young woman got on with her baby girl in a stroller. It is amazing to me how the presence of a child can lighten the mood. Doesn't matter where you are, if there is a child there, someone will be making googly faces or baby talk. Children help us to remember it's okay to sometimes be a child. After a little while, the child began to cry. A heavy-set fellow, with earrings, noserings, tattoos, and a black trench coat reached into his pocket. I slumped a little in my seat, fearing the worst. Instead, he pulled out a dollar bill. Waving it in front of the child to console her, we all collectively breathed a sigh of relief as we looked at one another and smiled. Silly us for being afraid of him. He was trying to pay her off to stop crying. It didn't help. Her mom pulled out her sippy cup, and that did the trick. He still waved the greenback in front of her. Now refreshed, she grabbed after it. This brought a laugh from all around. I clicked my iPod off, keeping the earphones in, just to listen. The mom prompted the child to show gratitude to the man. She did. Shortly, a man from behind me got out two dollars and passed them to the child. Again, gratitude was expressed. Then, a woman directly across from me encouraged the mother to have the child save the money she had received. "We need to teach our children to save. Save, so she can get ahead in the world." This was received with nods from those assembled. Then it hit like a loud thunderous clap. "We need to save so we don't let the white man keep on treating us like a slave."

This is a joke, right? I assume she thought I was listening to my earphones that were still in but not on. I continued to smile at the child and pretend not to hear as she continued, "...you can get ahead, show some bling-bling like this boy here." I assumed she meant me, since I was the only one in a suit. This was met with subtle nods and breaths of agreement. By now I was wondering where those often promised California earthquakes were to divert attention. As I managed one more smile to the child and slowly turned my head and looked at the rain-soaked scenery passing by me I felt as far from Kaysville, Utah as possibly I could be. Then I turned my iPod back on. If there was more dialogue, I didn't want to hear it. Luckily the Metro began to slow and the call for the last stop came overhead. I was comfortable being the last one off.

11:10 AM By now it was really raining. Raining so much it's obvious I am the only one in the city without an umbrella. I slipped, literally, into a nearby Rite-Aid as I emerged from the underground station. It was filled with morning shoppers rushing to get the latest deals on nylons or cold medicine. I sloshed my way down a few aisles, then finding a employee asked if they had any umbrellas. She took me back to the display in the front of the store, which was empty. She said she would be right back, she would check to see if they had any in the back room. It might be fun someday to have a store with no back room. That way, if there was something in the store you needed, it would be right there. Another gentleman came up a similar problem. Without words, the two of us knew what the other was looking for. This was given away by the fact that we were the only two in the store with that 'just out of the shower' look. After an awkwardly long time she came back and indicated they were out. Well, I still had plenty of time to dry out.

1:05 PM After filling as much time reading books in a Borders Express, I felt sufficiently drowsy and decided to head out for lunch. "What is a Borders Express?" you may be asking. Well, take a regular Borders Bookstore and shove it into a mall closet. I've never seen so many people mad at a wet guy in a suit for sitting in the only chair in the whole place, drifting in and out of sleep while reading The History of The Grammy Awards. On my way out of the Macy's Sheraton Center, LA's biggest mall no one goes to, I found a little kiosk that just happened to have a $5 pocket umbrella. I say pocket because it can fit in my pocket. And it wasn't too bad at keeping the rain off either. On my way down the street to find an eatery, I passed a man urinating on a building. Right on the sidewalk, people passing him, some pointing and giggling, he was either unaware, aware and didn't care, or convinced that the fact that it was raining meant that public urination was acceptable. I guess we are not too far from Kaysville anymore.

3:21 PM The meeting is going full steam by now. No one in the room sitting around the table has any idea what my journey has been to this point today. I like that. For a brief moment during the meeting I thought to myself, "If I could just take a moment here and on this white board map out for you the interesting experiences of my day? Then we can continue with this meeting." Maybe an interruption would be inappropriate. The meeting was well worth my time. Meeting with a client, no matter where or when, is always worth my time. I like it when a little more when tropical scenery and beaches are involved. But no matter. Rain, snow, cab ride, train ride, hotels, rental cars, racial-tension filled metro trains, public urination; it's a good thing.

5:43 PM By now I am a Metro veteran. On completion of my meeting and the short trip back to the station, I confidently navigated the ticket booth, the walk to the appropriate platform, and I nonchalantly boarded the train a much wiser man. I rode the train all the way to the end of the line. Transit Mall Station. Which, if you know Long Beach at all, is right near the Queen Mary. Without the love of distant relatives to shuttle me to the airport, I was going to enjoy on this leg of the journey the Metro BUS. I was catching the 111 route back to the Long Beach Airport. My flight was leaving at 7:55, so plenty of time. As the bus pulled in at about 6:00, I boarded, noting my minority status once again. No matter, this time I was going to enjoy some relaxing music turned way up. As the bus bumped down the rain soaked street, the night lights outside were amplified by the reflection off the water. I was pleased to see an occasional home with a Christmas tree displayed in their window. I realized they were few and far between. Even more rare was a home with lights on the outside. But seeing them made me think that my home was getting closer than ever. The bus stopped and we picked up a young man, maybe in his late twenties, who boarded the bus in a pair of baggy Levi's and a black hoodie. Nothing of any import, except that when he went to pay his fare he pulled out a wad of cash the size of a baseball. As he sifted through looking to find the smallest bill, the driver indicated he could sit down as she needed to continue the route. He did so, and she pulled away. I went back to sifting through my music to find the right soundtrack to today's events. I began to notice a little more this man in the hoodie sitting across from me. He seemed to have a strange look on his face. On a bus you have a couple of seats that face the center of the bus, so being in those seats makes you especially car-sick if you are reading in the dark, reading in the light, carrying on a conversation with someone, or being stared down by a stranger in a hoodie. He looked confused. After a few eager looks outside, I assumed to get his bearings, he approached the driver. The muffled voices were drowned by the engine, but I could make out the driver asking him where he needed to go. He sat back down. She inquired again, which was answered this time by, "I don't know." It went something like this:

Driver: "Do you know where you need to go?"
Hoodie: "I don't know."
Driver: "Are you going to the mall? This bus goes to the mall."
Hoodie: "I don't know."

Then a young man from the back of the bus, who looked like he could hold his own in a knife fight, came up.

Knife Fighter: "Are you going to the mall?"
Hoodie: "I don't know."
Driver: "Are you going to the airport?"

This was when my prayer started.

Hoodie: "I don't know."
Knife Fighter: "Do you have a phone you can call someone on?"

Hoodie then responded with a blank stare. Knife Fighter went back to his seat. Apparently all the inner city emergency response tactics for someone who is disoriented had been exhausted. The driver then told him that she would help him once they had stopped at the airport. Hoodie then seemed to be a little more anxious. After a few stops, he began to look around with a little more fervor. Then the dialogue went something like this:

Hoodie: "Whas goin on?"
Driver: "I will help you in just a few minutes."
(pause)
Hoodie: "Whas goin on?"
This was being said to no one. Just being said as he looked around out the window like a puppy dog being 'taken for a ride' that just found out that he wouldn't be going back to the house.
Hoodie: "Whas goin on?"
Now we passed into a tunnel. I guess for someone who doesn't know where they are or 'whas goin on', a tunnel is like a dentist's drill. He was just plain delirious now. A little more mad, and a little more crazy. Michael Jackson's "Beat It" came on my iPod. Remember the video? Two gangs meet to fight in a warehouse and the old King of Pop shows up to, "Show them how funky?" Show them, "it doesn't matter who's wrong on right?" He shows them that dancing is better than fighting. I wondered if I could intervene in this situation with some of the same moves that MJ used to ward off that melee of minions of the night. Now I really prayed. I thought it ironic that I made it this far today, only to be killed in a bus 2 miles from Long Beach Airport. Tragic. This is when I thought buses should be equipped with metal detectors. Or at least make people take off their shoes and their belts. That way everyone is kind of on equal ground.

Hoodie: (with more feeling) "Whas goin on?! (not enough emphasis added)
The driver then got on her CB radio and, under the sound of the roaring engine, I assumed called in for back up. She then pulled the bus over at the next stop, speaking quietly but fervently. She opened the bus doors. To this Hoodie looked around, stood, and exited. She immediately closed the doors and said, into the radio, "Never mind. He's off the bus now." It was like letting a hornet out of a rolled down window in a car. Everyone seemed relieved. Hoodie just stared into the bus as we pulled away. People cheered, hugs were exchanged, better lives were vowed. Well, maybe that was just me.

11:21 PM Driving on I-15 north to home I decided that this is what life is all about. I felt lucky to have the experiences I did. All things can be for our gain, right? You can have experiences like that then come home to warm bed, a beautiful wife, children whom you love and who love you. I decided that today's trip was ironic. Ironic in that so much could be done, and so much could be learned, all on a trip to the City of Angels.