Last night I took a sudden car trip with Shawn to one of his job site’s in downtown Los Angeles. While Shawn did a building inspection I sat in the van. I ate Cheetos. I ate a package of Hostess crumb donughts. I drank one Snapple Peach Tea. I drank one large Arizona tea, peach flavored. I don’t know how long I sat in the van but I brought along a good book and delved into the stories of the Medici family and Leonardo Da Vinci. I settled into the van, legs across both seats.
And then it hit me. I found myself breathing in the city. A pinkish glow to all the lights and what they reflect. Twilight settled in. Building lights burst through windows. A rush of traffic coming and going from the airport. A roar from an incoming airplane. The clink of keys from the security man walking around the perimeter of the construction site.
The air was cool and moist. Not quite winter, not quite spring. I gazed the constellations. I took in the numerous blues of the sky. And then we hit the road. Driving on the 405. Lights shading in buildings from tiny slits of windows. The whitewashed Children’s Hopsital standing so quietly. Red lights flashing, “Gentlemen’s Club”. Three baseball fields filled with Little Leaguer’s. A woman driving past in a burgundy Corvette, her cotton candy like hair wisping the night breeze.The white stream of lights coming over the mountain from another freeway. The Getty Musuem lights shining in the mountains to lead the tram to the neatly paved parking lots. In the dark night I saw three flag poles standing high. What residence owned them, I could not say. But there on the high mountain stood the American flag. To the left of it stood the California state flag. I could not see the third flag as it flapped through the wind.
I just know that it’s been a long time since I’ve seen the city at night. Too long. I’ve almost forgotten the color of the sky, I think it looked a lot like this: