tales of the shuttle

.

so today i heard that jaime escalante died, which got me thinking about his movie, which got me thinking about a job i once had shortly after arriving in los angeles, which left me once again with the realization that just when mkf thinks he's tapped out, there's always one more story--or three.
 

1.

i recognize him immediately--little guy with a canvas duffle almost as big as he is, flagging me down at terminal 7 just as i'm getting ready to head outta the airport--could it be?

i jump out to help him with his bag, and as he climbs into the van, all doubts are erased--there's the logo for his latest movie emblazoned across the back of his jacket, big as life.

as soon as he's settled in--he's all alone in the wayback--i ease into traffic and resume my conversation with the two delightful english ladies in the middle row i had just picked up at terminal 2.  it's their first trip to america and they're beside themselves with excitement--from the moment they entered the van, they've been peppering me with questions about hollywood.

as we drive, i give 'em everything i know, try to point out some landmarks--problem is, the bleak drive from LAX to hollywood is as about as far from glamorous as you can get, so to keep 'em happy (and thinking, as always, of my tip), i start making shit up.

every time i make some outlandish pronouncement for the benefit of my ladies--point out some anonymous hovel and tell 'em charlie chaplin used to keep his mistresses there, for instance, or "see that pretty girl at the corner? she's really a man."--i check the rear-view mirror, catch the eye of my passenger in the back row.  he's smiling, enjoying the show.

until, that is, the inevitable "where can we find celebrities?" question comes up.

because i can't resist.  "ladies, in this town, you never know where you're gonna run into a celebrity.  it could happen on a street corner, in a cafe--heck, you might look up and find yourselves sitting right next to one at any moment."

i glance up--the once-smiling eyes in my rear-view mirror are wide and pleading now.  i just wink and drive.

the first stop is his--chateau marmont.  as i drag out his bag, he hands me an extra twenty, says "thanks for not giving me away."

turning back toward my van, i toss over my shoulder the line i've had the entire ride from the airport to perfect: "next time, do the right thing--hire a limo."  this earns me a laugh.

as i prepare to pull back onto the strip, i turn back to my ladies and breathlessly ask, "my gosh, do you have any idea who you just shared a ride from the airport with?"

this bit of theatre would net me my second big tip of the night.

2.

one of the first things the other drivers tell me: "cops hate shuttle drivers--be extra-careful when you're anywhere near LAX."  being me, i don't pay much attention to this advice.

one night shortly thereafter, returning from a run and anxious to get back to the airport, i ignore the "no right turn on red" sign at the 405/la tijera off-ramp and am promptly rewarded with flashing red-and-blue lights in my rear-view mirror.

fuck.  i pull over, brace myself for another ticket--i've had more than a few in my life.

this one will be different.

i sense it right away--cop walking toward me has about ten times the attitude i've ever gotten from a cop before.  i offer him my driver's license through the open window and he loudly orders me out--and when i comply, gets all up in my face and, spittle flying, backs me up against the side of the van and tells me to move not a goddam inch until he returns.

he then snatches my ID outta my trembling hand and retreats to his car, trains the full force of his spotlight upon my scared, miserable person.  as looky-lou traffic slows, through the humiliating glare i can see him on the radio, calling me in--it takes forever.  in the meantime, i nervously pull a cigarette outta my pocket and await my ticket.

eventually he comes back, scribbling in his ticket book, takes one look at the cigarette in my hand, screams, "DID I SAY YOU COULD SMOKE?  DROP IT--NOW!"  i immediately do as he says.

he then flips a page on his pad, scribbles some more and eventually hands me not one ticket to sign, but two:  the first, for illegal right turn; the second, for littering.

later in the locker-room, red-faced, foaming at the mouth, shrieking about outrage and injustice and fucking goddam motherfucking cops, i'm oblivious of the snickering from the little circle of black drivers until one of 'em walks up to me with a grin, pats me on the cheek and says, "congratulations, white boy--you just got to be a nigger for a night. now, shut your mouth, change outta that uniform and go be white again."

on the drive home i remember thinking how if I had to go through that shit on a regular basis, cop killer would probably be pounding outta my subwoofer on high rotation, too.

3.

it's a dead airport and as i make my third and final round, i resign myself to the fact that the fare i picked up on round 1 is gonna be my only one for this run.  and not only that, but it's montebello--jesus, the trip to east LA and back will eat up half my night.

she's nice, though--rather than bitching like most people do when told we're gonna have to go around twice more, she'd smiled, settled back in her seat and enjoyed the ride.

once LAX is behind us, we make the most of the trip, this lady and i--we talk about her family; we talk about mine.  before i know it, we're pulling up in front of her house--a neat little stucco bungalow with a single porchlight burning.

i insist on carrying her bags--by this time i'm totally taken with this little woman who, even though she's nothing like her, somehow reminds me of my own mother.

she unlocks the front door, steps inside, flips a switch, and i walk into...not a living room, but a shrine.

seriously:  every square inch of every wall, every table, every horizontal and vertical surface extending even unto the dining room beyond--is covered with pictures, posters, plaques, trophies, awards, ribbons, citations--documentation of a life well-lived.

and each one featuring the same familiar name and/or face.

i turn to her with my mouth open and she positively radiates with pride as she says, "this is my son i was telling you about."

fuck most celebrities, but i'd like to meet mrs. olmos's son one day, if only to tell him how his mother's face lit up when she talked about him.

and as for that other life well-lived, the one that inspired this post:  may you rest in peace, mr. escalante.

an interesting chart

.

because you know i'm all about the charts.

the money quote:

Barring an about face by nature or adjustments, it appears that for the first time since 2001, Arctic Sea ice will hit the “normal” line as defined by the National Snow and Ice Data Center (NSIDC) for this time of year.

i fully expect al gore to call a news conference at any moment expressing his jubilant relief, don't you?

a guttermorality news round-up

.

i know, i know--i've got a story to finish.  problem is,  i'm white-knuckling my way through a week of sobriety currently off my medication, which means that all warm, fuzzy thoughts of the past have evaporated and i've found myself forced screaming into the random ugliness and stupidity that constitutes the present--which fact would explain not only my last several posts, but this one as well.

whatever--let's begin.

*     *     *     *     *

from the guttermorality national affairs desk:

wow, it's already starting (part 1)

remember that healthcare bill that obama just signed that's supposed to save us all so much money?

yeah--almost immediately upon its passage into law, company after company came forth announcing huge charge-offs against earnings in order to comply with its provisions--companies like caterpillar [$100 m], john deere [$150 m], 3M [$85 m], and (saving the best for last) AT&T [$1 billion].

this, of course, isn't what makes this story noteworthy--i mean, the fact that this was gonna be a financial disaster for big business was a given, right?  it's the reaction of congress to these companies' announcements that makes me wanna simultaneously laugh and hurl.

wow, it's already starting (part 2)

so the AP has determined that, once the mandatory insurance requirement kicks in in 2014, premiums for young people will probably rise by at least 17%.  a couple paragraphs from their story:

Consider 24-year-old Nils Higdon. The self-employed percussionist and part-time teacher in Chicago pays $140 each month for health insurance. But he's healthy and so far hasn't needed it.

The law relies on Higdon and other young adults to shoulder more of the financial load in new health insurance risk pools. So under the new system, Higdon could expect to pay $300 to $500 a year more. Depending on his income, he might also qualify for tax credits.

now, the jump between nils' present payment of $140/month and the AP's projected payment for nils of up to $640 four years from now is a hell of a lot more than 17%--guess when you go from a bare-bones policy of your own choosing to one the government picks out for you, the hit gets much, much worse.

this story illustrates two points: (a) nils is fuckin adorable; and (b) no shit that when you're forced to buy something, they're gonna jack up the price.

[a personal note to all you young people who voted for hope and change:  as long as you're happy ponying up 5-6 hundred bucks a month for coverage you don't need in order to keep me and my fellow baby-boomers current with the cutting edge of gerontological science, then i assure you, we're happy too.]



from the guttermorality anti-terrorism desk:

this makes you feel safe, right?

the above pic is from a new york post story about american reaction to the moscow subway bombings.

after our scared-rabbit overreaction to 9/11, i long ago postulated that all it would take to plunge this country into total police-state lockdown would be a couple well-placed suicide bombings--say, one at mall of america, another at disneyland and maybe a third at some random chuck e. cheese on a saturday afternoon, all in quick succession--and to this day, i can't for the life of me imagine why they haven't done it.


from the guttermorality world affairs desk:


yeah--it's china's fault

of all the idiocy i've come across this past week [and there's been a lot--the above only scratches the surface], this story from a canadian paper is the one that scares me the most.

a couple featured paragraphs:

More than 100 members of U.S. Congress signed a letter in mid-March urging the Obama administration to label China a currency manipulator when the United States issues its twice-a-year report on currency manipulation on April 15.

Meanwhile, Paul Krugman, the Nobel Prize winning economist, wrote in his New York Times Op-ed column a couple of weeks ago that the United States should slap imports from China with a 25% tariff.

in other words [for those of you who haven't been paying attention these past 25 or so years]:  the very monetary policies china followed in order to keep their shit dirt-cheap so we could afford to bankrupt ourselves buying it from wal-mart whilst simultaneously destroying our domestic industrial/manufacturing base in the process--all the while being cheer-led by administration after administration into doing so--yeah, all of a sudden they're being made the scapegoat for all our problems.

basically, what congress and krugman [and why anybody ever listened to this asshole i can't even begin to imagine] are asking the president to do is try to force china to make the cost of their goods more expensive to the rest of the world, in order to throw a bone to american labor--you know, make 'em think we're doing something to protect their jobs.

i.e., we're demanding china jeopardize its economy in order to pacify our unions before election time rolls around.

what these idiots seem to forget is, we forfeited the right to call the shots with china long ago--hell, they own us.  i mean, it's like a dead-broke junkie trying to dictate terms to his dealer.

today as we speak, the united states of america is borrowing fully 40 cents of every dollar we spend, and we are totally dependent on the goodwill of china to continue this idiocy for as long as they'll let us.

start a trade war with china?  yeah--look back at history, you'll find that's the way shooting wars start.



finally, from the guttermorality fuck-all-the-naysayers desk:

goddamn, what took daylight saving time so long to get here?