Birthday Boy

This morning on my usual work commute, I saw something quite UNusual. At 7:45 A.M, I see a man, handcuffed, being led towards a police car, naked as the day he was born. Homeboy was not even wearing socks, let alone underwear. He wasn't resisting, just walking along with a policeman on each arm as if he was enjoying their company on a leisurely stroll. Of course I immediately called the hubbie and explained the situation, cackling the whole time. This is exactly why I love living in the city. I can guarantee that I'm not going to get that kind of morning entertainment commuting from the West Valley. I guess after 2 plus years of commuting from what is essentially downtown LA, through Hollywood, through Beverly Hills and arriving in Santa Monica, I’ve become attached to the usual cast of characters that inhabit these areas.

In Silver Lake there’s the crazy guy wearing an ipod, who always pushes his shopping cart into oncoming traffic, completely oblivious that there’s cars are coming. If you honk at him he’ll walk even slower across the street. Closer to mid-city there’s a homeless man that I see that sleeps under the awning of a children’s furniture store. Every morning around 8:00 A.M I see him methodically pack up his bedding, (which is mostly cardboard boxes,) rinse his mouth out with something in a water bottle and dump another water bottle full of liquid out. I’m sure we can all guess what’s in the 2nd bottle but I hope his system never fails him and he mixes up the bottles.

But, my all time favorite is someone I don’t see everyday. I’m not sure if he’s homeless because the sightings are sporadic but he definitely walks to the beat of a different drum...LITERALLY. The first few times I saw him, I was sure that I was missing something. He was dancing and singing to what sort of sounded like James Brown. His eyes were shut, his head thrown back and he was absolutely covered in sweat. I was sure that he must’ve had a walkman on or boombox nearby, BUT NO. Every time I’ve seen him since, he sings at the top of his lungs, dances like a Backstreet Boy on crystal meth and there’s not a musical device in sight. It’s all in his head. The best is when he makes eye contact with you in the car, points and gives you a knowing nod, as if to say, “I know you love this song too, let’s sing it together, come on!”

When I got into work and powered up the computer I was already wanting to go home. I'm tired from a long week, fighting a cold and have a ton of things outside of work on my mind. But at the very least, I remembered to put on clothes this morning, and that makes it a good day.