It was grey
and foggy. Gladys looked at her little
dog Bozz, shook her head and said “let’s wait a bit buddy”. She knew the May grey would creep out just
as subtly as it had crept in. She was
used to the fog that occurs when the low altitude clouds form over the ocean then the winds blow
them inland creating fog and drizzle.
Sometimes this weather phenomenon lasts all day, sometimes it lifts
midday and once again the skies are azure blue and life returns to normal.
Most non-southern Californians know about the ill effects the Santa Ana
winds have on people but very few know that May Grey or June Gloom also affects
the inhabitants of the sunny desert metropolis.
It coats them in a film of despair from which only the brilliance of
the sun can cleanse. But I digress.
For clarity here is a little background on Gladys’ neighborhood. The street is extremely narrow only wide
enough for cars to park on one side of the throughway. People in this area for some reason don’t use
their driveways or garages, instead they choose to park along the narrow
street. In addition to being narrow the
street dead ends and because of the row of cars it affords no possibility of a
turn around. One must either back their
way out or park their car plant daisies on the hood and call it art.
The normal protocol for parking is to pull into the side street, which
also is a narrow dead end, and then back up the street until you arrive at your
destination. The problem is directly
across from the side street is a house.
The owner of the house usually puts his garbage bins in front of his
house to prevent parking. Let me also
say that since Gladys moved here she has learned that there is a parking dick
on our street. She isn’t sure who it is but said PD has felt the need to put notes on her vehicle
reprimanding her for parking in various spots. One was quite incoherent and
hateful. Luckily Gladys is easy going
and wrote it off to it being Hollyweirdness.
Again I digress.
Finally the sun won the fight with the gloom and Gladys laced up her
shoes and leashed up Bozz. He danced
happily as they trudged up the staircase leading to the street. The neighborhood is mostly quiet; while it
feels like a mountain retreat it rests above Sunset Strip in one of the busiest
cities in the world.
There were the normal noises that
permeated the day, birds chirping the construction workers next door pounding
nails and sawing but there was also an underlying vitriol. It echoed through the canyon. This was the same canyon that echoed the
lyrical sounds of Joni Mitchell, Buffalo Springfield, Graham Nash and others of
the era. Only this wasn’t the twangs of
guitars and melodic sounds of harmony; it was yelling and cursing and what
sounded like a jack hammer against a metal building.
Bozz breached the street first and backed up a few paces. There before him, stuck mid-turn around sat
two large men encased in a giant green garbage truck looking fear
stricken. There was a stream of
obscenities and nastiness emanating from the other side of the truck. Bozz and Gladys approached the scene with
trepidation. Behind the truck stood a
short woman with a baseball bat threatening the men in the truck as they inched
forward and back in an attempt to make a 587 point turn. They were attempting to make this turn while
not backing into the car parked in the crash zone, her car. This was the same woman who had left the note
admonishing Gladys for parking her car too close to the turnaround site. The incoherent note writer now stood in the
middle of the narrow road replete in housedress and baseball bat threatening
the very people who clean up her trash.
The men in the truck nervously look from the safety of the 5 ton truck
carefully trying to avoid the deranged woman while still doing their job. They inched forward, back, forward and back
as the crazy woman screamed and swung her bat in their general direction.
Bozz sensed discord, decided to piss on the garbage bin and head back to
the house with Gladys in tow. She cast a
few glances over her shoulder as the big green giant inched it’s way to safety.
Gladys sat on the patio listening to the sounds of the garbage truck lumbering
his way down the hill back into the safety of the bustling city. She wondered was it May Grey that had the woman
in a tizzy or maybe she had her first encounter with a real Beverly Hillbilly.
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