The Subtle Dance Of Socializing: Part 3

Each of the last two days, I have been telling the story of my latest night out. Yesterday's chapter left of with me alone on a sidewalk in Echo Park at around 2:30 in the morning thinking of how to get home. The trip home was perhaps more eventful than its predecessor. Certainly it was longer. I knew I would be ok getting home on my own, as there are two all-night buses which would serve to bring me within a tolerable walking distance. I ordinarily would scrounge a ride, but doing so in this case, given that the people most predictably amenable to such a request in the past were gone, seemed not conducive to the growth of my friendship with those who remained.

I walked over to the stop served by the first bus. It took a little while, but came. That thing was just jam-packed with all kinds of fascinating people. I couldn't focus on my book, and not just because I was concerned for my safety should I let down my guard. Some prefer to give the irregular and downtrodden on the fringe a wide berth. I guess I'm not so far from that attitude, but I do find such people as you see on a bus at three in the morning on a Sunday most interesting. I often think of how much I'd like to cast a movie with them. You just can't find faces like theirs in an audition.

The first bus let off in the south of the Hollywood neighborhood. I though I would have to walk a good ways north to get to the second bus, and went off in that direction before I realized I could catch the bus where I was. It seemed that every bus bench I passed had some vagrant settle in for the night on or around it. I called the one passed out on the bus I waited by "Gladys". It was in front of a Carl's Jr with a 24 hour drive-through.

In between the appearances of police cruisers and ambulances with sirens blaring, I found the drive through captivating. There was a car-load of seemingly hammered gentlemen in suits in line. A couple of them kept emerging and approaching the ordering radio to interrupt the car giving its order and address the microphone. I watched for some time assuming that there would be some kind of consequences for their intransigence, but was disappointed. I guess the bar for inebriated antics is significantly higher than I had naively assumed.

The bus finally came, and was itself rather packed. I can recall no incidents there, though, and we hurtled through the dark and early morning on our way to Panorama City. I never had taken this route, at least not from that close to the southern terminus. It was mildly interesting by comparison with everything else. The bus soon enough pulled into the bus plaza at the North Hollywood subway station. Of course, no bus line was then running that could take me the rest of the way.

I considered waiting an hour or so for one to activate, but figured I could get home a lot sooner if I just walked. I've done so many of times before, and for greater distances. Thus, I set out upon what I sometimes call the Jericho road (for its propensity to visit harm on the unwary). I made it home in the usual amount of time, stopping off at the 7-11 along the way. This probably was my most egregious missstep of the night. I had what might be best described as a hankering for a chili cheese hot dog, and bought one. Actually, it was their large spicy hot dog which I drenched in the above condiments. I brought it and a bag of salt and vinegar chips into the apartment.

There I ate both and washed them down with an RC cola as I perused the party pictures which had already been posted online during my oddysey. This is my way. No matter what my intentions as I make my way back home, I invariably stay up a while longer. I decompress and gear down, finally slowing down enough to sleep sometimes hours after I've gotten back. Such was the case this time. Finally, I laid my head down to rest, and it was all over but the sleeping.

Tomorrow: Something else!