Before I tell this story of Patriotic Courage, I need to fill you in on a little back story.
I don't know what it is, and I've had these conversations with many friends, most of whom share the opinion that I'm crazy, and that I'm either a)being swindled b)putting my life in danger c)enabling a bad and possibly illegal habit, or all of the above. (side note to "the back story" of the proceeding story that actually happened: I'm listening to iTunes right now and Total Eclipse of the Heart is playing. Bonnie Tyler really nailed this one. But it reminded me of a great YouTube clip titled "Total Eclipse of the Heart-Literal Version" check it out, it's fantastic).
So, again, I'm not really sure why, but if someone, who appears less fortunate asks for a few dollars, something inside me can't say no. And I can't lie and say I don't have any money. Not because I'm against lying, which I am, but I also believe a white lie is sometimes better than the truth, and often employ this rule in my job, when speaking to guests, so it's not that I'm George Washington and the apple tree honest, but it's more of a self preservation kind of thing. Lets say a homeless guy asks for some money, and I say "I'm sorry, I don't have any cash on me" and then this guy pulls a shiv of some sort and robs me.... well, if it turns out I didn't have cash, I'd like to think the guy is just going to take my wallet and leave. But if I did happen to have cash, after I told him i didn't? well, then I imagine he's going to be so upset that I would have the nerve to be dishonest during a mugging that he would probably murder me. So instead of lying, I just try to carry a few small bills and then I can give them a dollar or two and feel like I helped out in some small way, and ended up living thru the night. Then I justify that if, this gentleman is indeed going to use my donation for some illegal, or immoral purpose, I just tell myself that it was only a couple bucks, and he's not going to get a lot of whatever illegal material he was hoping to procure.
Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm made of disposable cash, or that I run purposefully thru neighborhoods with high "Transient" population, making it rain dollar bills. I'm not that generous. It's just that if someone asks me, I have to do it. And I have a really hard time ignoring them if they start to speak to me.... and believe me I try, but I can't do it. I think it goes back to 10th grade when J.R. Savageau asked me if I would buy a Vicodin off of him for $5. I had no need for the pill, I'm not exactly sure it was actually a Vicodin or not, but I couldn't say no, so I gave him five bucks, he gave me a pill (I've since been prescribed Vicodin for different injuries, and the pill he gave me looked nothing like the ones from the Pharmacy) and in turn, I walked to the nearest trash can and threw it away. Weird I know. I guess I could have just given him $5 and told him to keep his giant, supplement-like looking, Vicodin, so that he could sell it and make twice as much on that one pill, but again, I'm not an enabler.
Having established that there is apparently something wrong with me, lets move on to the story at hand:
I went to Ventura Beach over 4th of July weekend to visit my friend Amanda. We spend the 3rd in Santa Barbara. I was looking for the cast of PSYCH, hoping to be an extra in one of the scenes, since the show takes place in SB, but after some searching around and consulting with my friend GOOGLE, found out that PSYCH may "take place" in SB, but it's filmed in Vancouver. I was disappointed with this, but it was still a great day trip. We got some pretty sweet "patriotic gear" to wear on the 4th.
We drove down to LA Live the night of the 4th. We could see some fireworks from the hotel, which was pretty awesome. Even more so, since Amanda had a few pair of 3D glasses, that totally make the fireworks seem like they are coming right at you. They provide all the exhilaration of being right next to the firework, without the downside of 2nd degree burns and smoke inhalation....
after the fireworks we decided to go hit the town in our sweet outfits. I went downstairs and asked the concierge where we should go. He gave a few options up in the financial district. Before he got to me, I overheard him telling a nice couple from the UK to stay away from the east part of LA. "if you get to Main street, you're too far east, and it's a little shady over there" he said to them.
After giving me a map, he sent us on our way. We walked outside to get a cab and the Bellman asked where we were headed. We said the "financial district" he looked a little puzzled at our destination choice but didn't say anything. He hailed a cab and told the driver to take us to "Pershing square".
The cab driver was speaking angrily on the phone the duration of our ride (to be fair, he might not have been angry, it just sounded like that...does that give you a little idea of what our cab driver was like? I hope so, because if I go into further detail, it may come off as politically incorrect or racist).
The cab driver turns on 7th street and I see a few of the restaurants the concierge mentioned to us. We pass those and the cab driver keeps driving east...(wait for it). He's still talking on the phone and suddenly makes a right turn on a one way street. Then he pulls over and asks us to get out. Confused, we ask if this is Pershing Square? "no, Spring st. the guy told me Spring street."
"no, he told you Pershing Square. Are we near Pershing Square?"
"yes, of course, it's back behind us, but this is a one way street"
"so if we walk up Spring, we'll find Pershing Square?"
"yes. $7.50 please"
So we pay him, and step out onto the street. Now I'm sure Spring (which is one block from Main street, just for the record) is a very nice street....during the day. But at 9:30 at night, it was as if it had changed from a bustling street to "Spring Street Motel, minus the rooms. Grab some sidewalk everyone, make yourselves comfortable!"
there were homeless people everywhere! I mean, to the point you had to watch where you stepped! So we started making a quick walk up Spring, towards what we thought was Pershing Square. the homeless crowd got a little more dense, and a little more awake as we got further north. During our walk, I'm looking at Google Maps on my phone and realize we're 2 blocks east of Pershing square and we're not exactly heading the right direction. We decided to make a left at the next street. We pass through several groups of people standing outside of various liquor stores, a few of the crowds talking to some ladies who were in the street and walking... street-walkers perhaps.... not really sure.
Keep in mind, this whole time we're wearing these outfits:
Not exactly Conspicuous.
As we're walking, I try to look up the closest restaurant that the concierge recommended. I see that Perch (a french bistro with a rooftop patio that the concierge said we could see fireworks from) is not too far, maybe 3 more blocks. So we head there as quickly as we could, without appearing totally obvious that we were running possibly for our lives.. We get to where the google map says the restaurant should be, but can't find a sign or even a building that looks like it's been inhabited in the past 4 years... At this moment a fairly large gentleman starts coming down the sidewalk toward us, at a fairly deliberate pace. This is somewhat disconcerting, so Amanda makes a quick decision to cross the street. We didn't have a little green man telling us it was ok to walk, but apparently Amanda had no regard for the jay walking laws in California, so we crossed. Which eluded the large man, who, as he got closer, seemed to be talking to himself, only it was more like a lowered voice yell. You know that voice when you are trying to get your kid to behave in a public setting and you don't want to speak too loudly to draw attention, but you want to make sure the kid gets the sense of urgency in your voice? yeah, that's what this guy was doing, but to himself.
We crossed safely, and without any sort of ticket (mainly because, although we saw many police cruisers go up and down each of the streets we were on, not one of them seemed the slightest bit interested in stopping in that neighborhood unless it was an absolute emergency.
We decided the safest bet would be to walk back down to 7th street which seemed to have more people walking around, and more people means more witnesses, and I'm always a fan of that. On our way down to 7th what do we find? you guessed it 'Pershing Square'! it was no where near where the cab driver said it was, but now that I think of it, he must have got confused and upon realizing where he was, decided to "cut bait" and get out of there as soon as possible. So I can't really blame him I guess... at least, that's what I tell myself to keep the rage of his abandoning us from creeping up. Pershing Square seems like it would be pretty cool...during the day (This daytime appeal seems to be popular with this part of town). there was a small stage set up in the middle of the square with rows of chairs still set as well. but whatever event/concert they held there had been concluded several hours before, because several transients had already moved into the square for the night. we cut through on our way to 7th and upon reaching our designated street, made a right (heading west....like the setting sun, we too, were looking for some refuge along the western shores of safety and security). because there were more tourists still up and moving on 7th street, more of the transients were also awake. as we walked down the sidewalk we came up on a lady that (and this is a source of disagreement between Amanda and myself) had a terrible limp. Now, Amanda maintains that this lady started limping the moment she saw us coming up behind her, but I think she was limping the whole time. Either way it was very convincing. Amanda passes her on the right, and as I go to follow, I hear the woman cry out "can you help me out? anything would help!"... She got me. up to this point no one else had actually called out for help. So I stopped and reached in my pocket. Suddenly I got a sick feeling. I remembered that I got some cash out of the ATM at the hotel, but I didn't get smaller change from the desk, so I only had a couple $20's in cash. Typically when I travel, I keep some cash in one pocket, my main credit and debit cards along with my drivers license in another pocket, and my wallet in yet another pocket. This way, if I'm robbed, I can give them my wallet, and not worry about losing the important stuff... (I have a problem I know, but this is the stuff I think about...how to get through a mugging with the least amount of collateral damage).
Since I had already reached into my pocket, there was no turning back. It's not like I could pull my hand back out and give the lady...a high five? that wouldn't do. that would just make her mad, and though I'm sure I could outrun her with that terrible limp she had, it just felt wrong, so I handed her the $20 and turned to catch up to Amanda (who had conveniently just kept walking as if nothing had happened. She's well adjusted to "ignoring peddlers and the like". I could not believe I gave that lady $20!? I felt kind of sick about it, but she was super grateful. I could hear her muttering some sort of thank you as I hurried to catch up, but I kind of wanted to yell out to all the other vagrants, that "the old lady with the limp had all my money, so ask her if you want anything..." but I thought that may cause some in-fighting amongst the 'street people' (I'm just trying to think of different ways to describe them, as I'm not sure exactly what the PC term is, and to keep calling them homeless, may sound a bit harsh...The next time I see one of them, I'll have to ask what they prefer to be referred to as).
at this point, we have been walking for roughly 14 blocks, and we were hungry. So we just chose the next restaurant we saw and went in. It was a Japanese place. Sushi on the 4th of July? what could be more American than that? just in case you forgot, we walked into the Sushi place wearing this:
After Sushi, we decided to just walk back to the hotel. Amanda was fairly certain the direction we needed to go, so we started walking again. As we walked south toward the hotel, we came across two men and a lady sitting at a bus stop. The two guys asked us if we knew where The Mayan was. we said no. The guys were from Sydney and this was their last night in LA and they were looking to go dancing. They said some other guy that had walked past a few minutes earlier had recommended they go to The Mayan. The girl was from San Diego, and was wearing heels. From the looks of things, she had had a long night. After consulting google maps again, we saw that The Mayan wasn't terribly far, although it was back toward the east part of town and we weren't thrilled about that. The guys from Sydney asked if we wanted to go with them, and we said yes of course, because anytime you can walk to a shady part of town to a dance club that some stranger recommended to two foreign guys and a girl from San Diego that you just met, you gotta do it right? Right. So we started the walk. Just for a visual reference, the red pin is The Mayan and the purple pin is where we were.
you can barely see it, but beneath the red pin are the words "The Mayan" and a picture of a martini glass, which one would assume meant a bar, and, specifically for these Travelers from Down Under, a dance floor of some sort. I only point this out as a foreshadowing of sorts, we'll get back to it.
So, we walk down Flower and turn left on Olympic. the San Diego chick is having a hard time with the heels, so she slows down a bit and one of the Aussie's stays behind with her. In my mind, I'm thinking this could be a trap and I'm immediately thinking of our exit strategy, should things go south. We start talking with the other guy, and exchange pleasantries of why we're all in LA that night. We tell him what we've heard about going past Main Street, and he agrees we shouldn't do it because, as he puts it "when Americans tell you not to go somewhere because it's shady, you better not do it...because you guys have guns and stuff." I thought it was a very interesting comment he made. To me, Sydney would seem just as scary in parts as LA is (that statement is based entirely off of TV and speculation, being that I've never been to make my own assessment). However, this gentleman (I'm going to call him Scott from now on, mainly because it's easier, and I don't remember ever getting his actual name). So Scott, told us a little about Sydney, and how, over a week or two, you could visit most every part of town and then you'd be bored after that. After that glowing description, I've crossed Sydney off of my bucket list.
We get down to Hill street and we look down the street toward where the map says The Mayan is, and we see a giant building with "The Mayan Theater" written on it. If this building has been occupied in the last 5 years, it doesn't look like it. At least not in the dark, and not from the outside. by this time we were half a block ahead of San Diego and Aussie #2. Aussie 2 yells up to Scott (I don't know why I named one and distinguished the other with a number, just go with it) "is it up there mate? (he really said mate, I'm not making it up. turns out they really call each other that, and it's not something Hollywood thought up for the Crocodile Dundee Series). Scott yelled back that we found it, sort of. then Amanda yelled back that it doesn't seem like a dance club and out of no where a semi drunk guy who had been walking past us, turns around and says "That Place isn't open! Haha!" Which I thought was sort of uncalled for on his part. we cross the street to get a closer look at what I could only imagine was a theater in some Stephen King novel. San Diego sits down on a bus stop bench and pulls out her phone. She's calling a cab to take them to Sunset Blvd. Scott still thinks this is the right place, because, after all, a random stranger told them this was a great place (Are all Aussies this trusting? I kind of like their childlike gullibility....and their accent). Amanda and I volunteer to walk down to the end of the block to see if anything else is down that way. We worked out a signal system with Scott. If there was something promising down at the end of the block, we would waive our hands above our heads (as if we were landing an airplane). if there was nothing down there we would wave our hands down by our waste, like a referee signaling a missed field goal. we walk down to the end of the block, and not only is there no promising dancing to be had at that end of the block, it was perhaps one of the scariest looking neighborhoods I've ever seen at night. It was one of those streets that you look at, and get a chill down your neck just thinking about the self-wetting reaction you would have if you had to walk down that street by yourself. as we turn toward the other three up the block and vehemently waived our hands in the failed field goal manner, we noticed a man coming up on us, so we started to briskly walk back toward the group. Still in my mind, I wasn't sure if these guys were planning on killing us, but I thought I'd rather die at the hands of someone with a cool accent than the nefarious looking character following us up the street. he had a chain attached to his wallet, and it made an ominous sound as he walked behind us. I recalled how all the kids with chains on their wallets back in Jr. High School, and how I didn't remember this noise coming from any of them when they walked. Then I figured that this guy must really have need of this chain wallet as opposed to a fashion statement, and so the sound is much more purposeful...
When we got back to the group they had ordered the cab and were waiting. They asked if we wanted to go to Sunset with them, but at this point, we decided to head back to the hotel. We parted ways with a hearty good luck, and made our way back to LA Live.
On the way back we passed no less than 2 different clubs that could have fulfilled the purpose our out of town friends were looking to fulfill, which we thought was both ironic and pretty sad (mainly because that girl from San Diego's feet must have been killing her by this time).
The next morning we decided to go to Venice Beach. We drove down and parked, and started walking down the boardwalk. We saw some 5 "weed doctor" tents. I commented at how different it must be to walk the boardwalk now, as opposed to a few years ago before Marijuana was legalized. I mean, I'm sure there were still people smoking weed on the boardwalk before, but they had to be much more discreet, since there are a fair amount of police officers on bikes down there. Now, though, some guys were smoking right in front of a pair of policmen without so much as a second thought... very interesting. The boarwalk was everything I had hoped it would be...in terms of people watching anyway. So many great photo opportunities, but I was too nervous to take my video camera out from my pocket to film some of the freak shows there were out there. we walked thru a group of guys who were blasting hip hop on a boombox, and one of them stopped me. "bro, you want to listen to some music? I'm an up and coming rapper, and this CD has 15 of my tracks. It's free. I just ask for a small donation."
"oh ya? this is you on this cd?"
"Yeah man, 15 tracks i've laid down. I hope you enjoy, here let me sign this cd"
I had broken down some smaller bills before we checked out of the hotel, so I was prepared this time. I pulled a $5 bill out of my pocket.
"Here you go man"
"Aah, thanks man, but we're asking for $10 if you can spare it, help a 'G' out..."
"sorry, $5 is all I've allotted myself for new cd's today"
That's really what I said.... I didn't want to say that was all I had (the reasons we've gone over previously), so that's what I came up with on the spot.
He was ok with the $5, but I could tell he was regretting signing the cd for such a pitiful donation. right when I finished with him, another guy tried to get me to donate for his cd, but I stayed firm and told him I could only buy one up and coming album today... Looking around, I found Amanda had made a bee line for a vendor cart and was perusing some hand bags in order to look busy so no one would approach her. Once I caught up, we kept moving, only after Amanda told me that I was a sucker and should have said no.
I made it down the rest of the boardwalk without giving any more money away, which I counted as a positive. Towards the end of the boardwalk we saw the guy in roller skates that is seen on tons of movies (Fletch comes to mind right away). It was awesome.
The rest of the day was spent driving down Rodeo Drive, up into Beverly Hills and then over to Hollywood.
All in all, our 4th of July didn't go as planned, but it did provide some fantastic memories. I can say they're fantastic now, because we didn't die, or contract any communicable diseases from any transients, which made it a successful trip!
Can't wait for next year's Independence Day!
