Walking to rehearsal alone, at night, along busy Lankershim Avenue in NoHo, a middle-aged man is standing in front of his parked car holding a rusty hammer in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth. He gets my attention and asks me if I can help him by getting in the driver's seat and turning the ignition while he whacks the engine with said tool.
While I'm pretty sure he wasn't planning to bludgeon me to death (if he was, I don't think he'd be openly wielding a hammer like that), I ran through the old mental Rolodex of excuses, settled on an apologetic "I'm really late" and took off.
Just another day in LA.
2 comments:
as your mom I agree with your decison, although...whacking the alternator will occasionaly get a car to start. Nice to help, but never @ night or when I was alone....
I think our particular genetic line is prone to odd happenstances
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