|Union Station. Photo by Needled Mom|
I had time to kill so I got out my knitting. It was November 1st and every twentieth person was in Dia de los Muertos facial paint. Dressed rather normally but often with half of their faces as skeletons. It was an altered world of walks, strides, shuffles, bounce, texting, chatting, rolling, dragging, with a dash of morbid art thrown in. Only in Los Angeles. I love to people watch and this is a very easy place to do this, especially if you are knitting.
I noticed a guy in his early thirties sit across from me, he was on the phone as he walked up, and then he sat down. His conversation went something like this: "Yo wassup, yeah, no, hey man, no I can't make it after all, no, I need ten dollars for the trip and I'm short three. Yeah, I know, its too bad. No, I only need three more dollars to get to Riverside. I guess I will have to miss the party. I guess I will try again tomorrow, maybe I can figure out a way. So see you soon bro, OK, bye. He hangs up and sighs, looking at his shoes. Picks up the phone again, " Hey Mary, I won't be able to make it tonight. I am in the lobby of the train station in Los Angeles. Stupid thing but I am three bucks short... I can't get out there... I just wanted you to know... sorry, no really, I am sorry. Yeah I thought I had my ATM card but I forgot it and I don't have the ten I need. It will have to be tomorrow, OK, bye.
He sat back, slumped a bit, sighed, and then looked at me. I kept knitting. He got up and moved off to a new mark.