There is really small Mexican restaurant in Silver Lake that my dad found and that we all thoroughly enjoy now, so, when my mom asked where I would like to go to dinner for my b-day, I said “Casita Del Campo.”
We went and the food was delicious and the margaritas strong, as usual. I ate too much and felt a little sick and tired afterward, which is the true way to know you’ve had a great meal.
On the way home, there is weird turn you have to make in order to go underneath a bridge to get to the freeway. Sitting on the divider of the strange turn was a homeless man. Not a rare sight in Los Angeles, but he had a sign that said, “Why Lie? I want a beer!”
I kept watching him while looking for a few dollar bills to give him and I realize he’s working ON A LAPTOP!! Then, he picks up a PDA and sets it down next to the laptop. Most normal people would this was wholly unacceptable because what the hell kind of homeless person has a laptop and a PDA (and a cell phone, as l later found out). Not me. I thought it was great!
As we make the turn I say, “Dad, let’s go the liquor store and buy him a beer and bring it to him and take a picture with him for my birthday!” To my surprise, my dad pulls over at the next liquor store! We make my mom go buy the beer and she walks out with a tall can of MGD. “It was only $2.25 for the 24 ounce can, so I figured that’s what I should get.”
We pull back around and pull up across the street. I look up and say, “Umm…Dad. There is no crosswalk…How do we get over there?”
“We run like hell.” I’m in heels mind you.
We sprint across the street and come up to the guy. I hand him the beer and say, “I liked your sign so much that I went and bought you a beer. But you can only have it if you take a picture with me.” He laughed, picked up his sign and posed for the picture.
But the best part is when he starts to ask me what I do for a living and go on about how he’s doing his “paperwork for the Oval Office” and that people call him “Number 52” because “52 is the number of everything.” 52 cards in a deck, 52 weeks in a year, something about Jesus was the number 52. I don’t really know.
Dad and I go sprinting back across the street and hop into the car, where Mom is giggling and calling us crazy. Dad pulls through the 76 station to make an illegal U-turn and who should be on the other side but about 6 of Glendale’s finest! They were too busy having their powwow to notice the red car with the three people laughing hysterically.
Now that’s the way you should spend your b-day. Doing something illegal, stupid and kind of offensive with your parents. Classic.