THE WALK
Part 1
It was about a quarter to Four on that afternoon, I’m on the escalator going up and getting off at the First Street/ Civic Center train station in downtown L.A. right by old Bunker Hill. I finished half a joint I had left as I strolled by the Federal buildings, adjacent is the Times building. The weather was just right, not too windy and just the right amount of Sun to supplement the mood. I’d just narrowly beaten the afternoon commuter rush as planned. It had to have been mid-week on a day off from work and just to set the tone right, I was already pretty faded before this whole story begins. I’m walking calmly up the hill on Broadway towards Temple crossing Grand Park, on this particular occasion she was wrapping up a work meeting inside one of the conference rooms in the Los Angeles Cathedral (of all places) and so never the less I’m making my way.
I clearly hear the bells ringing marking a new hour but more importantly they let me know that on this particular day, I’m right on time. I wait next to the waterfall within the courtyard in front of the Cathedral doors, best I can recall she’s dressed in her young professional look with a pantsuit ensemble that hug her frame ever so appropriately. As soon as I see her I immediately asked if I could carry her bag, she quickly hands me it and luckily its light baggage, we we’re ready now and off we go to enjoy our day together.
As we cross the criminal court building she smilingly asks if I have the herb I’d promised earlier that morning, I showed her two fat joints I’d rolled on the train ride over that I’ve had in the palm of my hand the since waiting inside the cathedral. We continue walking downhill on Temple passing City Hall on our right just as the rest of downtown was also beginning to wrap up its day. She decided to make our first stop by the stairs of the on the north eastside of Main and Temple in “Bowron Square” a place that isn’t known so much for its name as it is for it’s infamous “Triforium” a sixty foot art/ light installation that since the 70’s has either been masterpiece or an eyesore waste of tax payer money depending on one’s artistic eye.
Part 2
Five or six teens were skating while recoding each other doing tricks in the now empty courtyard. We found a cool little shaded area where we made ourselves comfortable and began smoking the bigger of the two joint while watching the kids skate eventually becoming comfortable enough to cheer them with every successful trick they did. That is until she began egging on one the younger teens that kept failing at every trick he tried to do. The other skaters noticed we were smoking as were they and began to pick on the poor kid.
She eventually felt bad that the other kids were picking on the one because of her so we quietly got up and left half way into the second joint. By now It’s around five and we remembered that not only was the Far Bar down the street and serving $3 Happy Hour Sapporo’s but, it was also on the way to the Little Tokyo train station which is where we were headed anyway, I’m still carrying her bag but at this point it’s become weightless to me. We make our way towards Little Tokyo and after having passed Police headquarters and finishing that last roach we end up in the back area of the Far Bar patio, the Far Bar being one of the older and still standing watering holes in L.A. that’s located between an outdoor corridor separated by two brick buildings that are both about as old as the city its self.
I put her bag on an empty seat next to me, as she excuses herself for a few minutes I ask for a quick single beer which I quickly chug before she arrives. Two rounds later while joking with the bartender I tell her about Angela Rye a fairly well known news commentator that is in town and speaking later that evening at the California African American Museum in her neighborhood. She’s intrigued because that too is also conveniently on her way home and is by now well aware that I’ll be carrying her things for the remainder of our day. Being that she was going to be so close to afew train stations on this day she opted for leaving her car home and making it a day for on foot city adventures, my specialty, hence her early morning heads up.
We have a glass of water each as a last round before making our way towards USC by way of the Gold Line/ Red Line/ Expo line, I still have herb enough for the trip and everything is still going as scheduled. By the time we exit Jefferson and Maple in West Adams the sun’s already set, we head to the recently opened Trader Joe’s in the new USC village. We’re smoking our third joint casually while making witty stoney/ buzzed observations. I should note that she very much enjoyed the look other commuters gave me as I casually broke up weed and rolled that joint calmly and confidently during the evening rush train ride back. I have a fully loaded EBT card and tell her we can get snacks at TJ's to munch while we’re at the talk. You see, since the early morning I’ve planned the day out this far ahead. I’ve had a second option for every one she might reject but so far and unbeknownst to her everything’s still going according to plan.
Part 3
At this point now the day has turned into a clear evening and we’re crossing through the USC student village and making small talk about what potential shops will be in the still empty ground floor spaces, we share a caramel chocolate bar telling her that it’s my favorite Trader Joe's snack. We’re discreetly drinking a 9% beer each and having a cold cut chicken sandwich each, she’s chasing her beer with a tall coconut water. We’ve yet to feel rushed or tired this whole time and the walk has even served as a great way to balance the chill buzz we’ve managed to maintain, I’m now carrying her bag on one hand and a grocery bag with light snacks on the other, she's happy.
At his point she’s just now comfortably grabbing items in and out of her bag as needed, the only things she’s steadily held all day have been three joints, water and cold beer. We cut directly through the campus and casually stroll through the Rose Garden, well fed, still buzzed and hydrated. By the time we reach CAAM the large lobby area where the event is being held is completely packed. She notices the crowd and as I expected rather than wanting to leave she is further intrigued.
It’s now about 7:30pm, what was earlier a warm downtown afternoon has become a fresh, clear L.A. evening. The museum has temporarily stopped letting attendees in and to our benefit is running behind schedule. A staff member steps out and informs the outside crowd that because of the unexpected surge in guests they’ve cleared out an adjacent room to the speaking area and brought out large t.v. screens with a direct feed for anyone who’d like to stay and watch the speech. Because we happen to be sitting in an area by the entrance to that other room we become among the first in line and knowing we’re going to make it in we continue opening more snacks from the grocery bag I’ve been carrying.
That second room quickly reaches full capacity. As soon as we have a seat I place the bags I’ve been carrying in the space under my chair. She excuses herself to use the restroom and when returns clearly notices me gaging the gorgeous women present and sits by my side. Many of the female attendees are casually wearing their respective alma matter sweaters, she notices one wearing her former universities and tells me, “oh look, how cool” however, people are giving us cordial stares followed by a smile as we snack when I remember that by now we’ve now acquired a very noticeable strong marijuana odor.
Part 4
We exit the event as it winds down around 9:30ish or so and because the speech hax given us our third wind we agree on one final night cap at a nearby liquor store down the street on Figueroa just south of King. She tells me the speech was highly insightful being able to hear tidbits of what obstacles to expect as a young professional woman of color and such. I’m thankful that I’ve gone back to carrying her main bag.
While at the store I grab one last tall can, a small bottle of Jameson both of which we are going to share and a pack of blunts so we can call it a night and head our separate ways after one final fatty, she is still drinking her coconut water for continued hydration. By now it’s 10pm and she remembers there’s a dispensary not too far from where we’re at and she figures we might as well walk off the buzz and get herb for the next few days, she implies I can use the walk so I happily agree.
This is not something she would normally do but she’s treating herself because she knows tonight she’s safe with me. I tell her the dispensary closes at 11pm sharp so for the first time all day we pick up our pace. After cutting through a few streets we’re on Broadway and forty third and go into the shop with five minutes to spare. Female budtenders have always liked her purchasing style because of her genuine inquisitive nature to the point that they drop the sales push and offer the genuine good stuff at a discount price just because they like her attitude and tell us we’re a couple cute couple, we both brush off the comment with a smile say thank you just the same.
It’s a little after 11pm when we decide to finally make our way home but at a bus stop just outside the dispensary we bump into a random guy that also happens to be carrying grocery bags his are just currently sitting on the bus bench. He asks us for a lighter because it turns out he’d just rolled a joint but didn’t have a means to light it. She quickly engages him in small talk and he eventually offers us to smoke with him because he too happens to think we make a cute couple. He essentially tells me that it takes a lot of courage to have been walking all day with such a feminine bag yet still carry myself in a very secure masculine way and wants to reward my confidence by smoking us out. She tells me “take some medicine out of my bag and let’s share medicine with our new friend.”
We break out the small Jameson bottle and tell him about our day together, at this point we’ve made ourselves comfortable with our new found friend to the point that he begins opening up some snacks he purchased while shopping earlier to be more comfortable with her telling of our day’s events. As luck would have it he turns out to live by her and we all walk back together in our final direction. He offers to host us if we want to keep the party going but I nudge her and whisper to her that he might randomly break out heavy drugs. She politely declines his invitation but does give him the rest of the bottle of Jameson as gratitude for the company which he welcomes.
He goes about his way and we back to ours. We reach her place around midnight and I see her car parked in front of her place, I finally hand her bag and make sure she makes it in safe. I put my headphones on and calmly make my way home thinking that in all truth everything (right down to the unexpected compliments) went off exactly as I’d planned that morning over breakfast.
THE END.
