Sunny SoCal
Picking up where we left off -- I landed at LAX on September 20, 2009. No one was waiting for me so I took matters into my own hands and got an Uber, destination Los Angeles' Little Tokyo. I snoozed most of the way and only woke when the driver announced, "We're here." I looked around, as good a place as any, and got out.
It took me about an hour of wheeling my carry-on baggage behind me before I finally asked and learned I was in Little Saigon -- Westminster, not LA. The idiot Uber driver.
My phone beeped: Are you there? N.
I texted back: I'm here. Where should I be?
I set up an office for you. You can sleep there until you get settled. N.
Me: Thanks, where?
It's in the rear of the beauty shop on Westminster. They are expecting you. N.
I was already too tired to appreciate how weird all this was but by sheer luck the Uber guy had let me out on Westminster Ave. It was just a matter of finding the one beauty salon in all of Little Saigon that was expecting me. Up and down, in and out of this shop and that, stopping for more than one cup of Vietnamese coffee which I was told is better than you can get in the former Saigon now known as Ho Chi Minh City.
Finally, two hours later, after making my way up one side of Westminster Ave., then down the other, back to almost where I started, I walked into yet another of those mini strip malls that enrich the landscape of every city in America and in through the doors of a seedy beauty and nails salon.
Finally, two hours later, after making my way up one side of Westminster Ave., then down the other, back to almost where I started, I walked into yet another of those mini strip malls that enrich the landscape of every city in America and in through the doors of a seedy beauty and nails salon.
A grim looking little old lady with perfectly coiffed black beehive hair and long sharp shiny red nails was at the cashier's counter. I walked up. The old lady handed me a key and jerked her head toward the back of the shop.
By this time I was so jagged from jet lag and three hours walking and multiple cups of Vietnamese coffee that I just took the key and trudged back past stations that promised to transform everyday women into alluring vixens.
I opened the door, which wasn't even locked, and looked in. "What a dump," I said out loud.
A ratty couch, a folding chair, and a desk piled high with boxes of beauty products. I closed the door and collapsed on the couch. "Shit!" I said to myself. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"
I zoned out, thinking about beautiful Vienna and beautiful Ingrid.
Dixi.
No comments:
Post a Comment