“It's the sense of touch…in any real city you walk. You know, you brush past people. People bump into you. In LA nobody touches you. We're always behind this metal and glass (car). I think we miss that touch so much we crash into each other just so we can feel something.” -- Paul Haggis, screenplay, Crash
Sunday began with rain and the promise of an imminent winter storm. It’s tough to turn rain to snow when the day’s temperature starts at 51 degrees. It rained all day and all night. I can’t imagine how much snow there’d be if temperatures would have been somewhat close to the 15 to 35 normal range.
Monday began with rain and the promise of an imminent winter storm. At 8am it happened, the rain turned to snow. I chose the bad weather bus park/ride option to get to work. At 2pm the announcement came, they were sending us home.
As I packed up to leave it occurred to me that I might be a tad underdressed to stand on the street peering into 25mph blowing snow hoping for a bus that increasing felt as though it may never come. Just as I pulled out my phone to receive assurances that the bus system was running, out of the flying snow my bus appeared. Phew.
As we approached the end of the line the driver became pretty excited about the crazy weather and helping all his passengers make their connections. He already had one bus holding uncomfortably long at the park/ride when he picked up and took action for a second passenger who wanted a bus that had already departed.
Along here I noticed a guy walking along the road. I noticed him because he was wearing an ICP hoody. I always notice ICP hoodies. I thought maybe he looked at my bus and wished he was on it.
The driver stopped just long enough alongside the waiting park/ride bus for us to get off and then began to pursue the bus for the second passenger, forgetting for a few moments that he also needed to pick up passengers. He must have realized his error when he looked in the rearview and saw passengers scattered in his wake in various stages of shock and disbelief. He stopped, blocking the path of the still waiting park/ride bus, and they all ambled across the parking lot and boarded. Heh heh, crazy weather.
I found my driver door frozen shut. With a small amount of coercion the downwind passenger door opened. I began to scrape windows and noticed ICP Hoody Guy was approaching me. He had a hastily scribbled San Luiz Ave address on a piece of paper and wanted help finding it. I wasn’t familiar with that road and invited him to the warmth of the building where we could call The Wife to Google Map it.
Dial once. Busy. Dial twice. Busy. He pulls out a phone number. Well, now we’ve got something we can use. While he calls the number and begins to discuss his destination and location in Spanish I begin to muse on the ideas and lessons of risk and race presented in the movie Crash.
As he’s looking out the windows identifying landmarks directly across the street I become simultaneously aware of two things: one, San Luiz Ave is South Louise Avenue which is the road we’re on, and B, I’m an idiot.
I check out his hoody, ICP it’s not. Jokers Wild it is. I don’t know what that means, but there’s just something really cool and creepy about well drawn frowning clowns. Jeans, typical. Feet, sandals. That crack you heard was my jaw bouncing off the floor. Sandals! This guy is a tad underdressed.
He finished his conversation. It was clear that he knew where he was going and that it was within a block. Off he went.
Today I was out from behind my metal and glass and was called friend by a blizzard walking sandal wearing Spanish speaking complete stranger.
I’ll take it.