He was walking a painted line in a parking lot to prove his sobriety when a drunk driver swiped his car at 5 miles per hour. "Marlin, isn't that your car?" I ask. "Yeah," he replies, "Yeah it is." Marlin stops walking a straight line and starts walking a direct route to a Ford Expedition that is slowly driving off.
"You hit my car," demands Marlin to the driver of the Ford. "It's cool," responds the passenger in the front seat. "No it's not," retorts Marlin.
The right rear reflector of Marlin's Honda Accord has been chipped but remains in tact and a Kennedy half dollar-sized piece of silver paint is now gone. I was worried Marlin was too drunk to drive let alone give me a ride home from The Hudson in West Hollywood. He is a generous, good-natured friend to begin with but I'd seen him take at couple of shots and have a handful of drinks during the Friday night celebration of Marina's birthday.
Months had past since I had seen either Marlin or Marina so when I received a text a few days prior that Marina was having a birthday party on Friday I was looking forward to the night all week as these were the first people I met when I moved to Los Angeles two years ago today.
Clear skies turned to rain as I left work and made my way home. The damp wool and leather I wore to work clung to my skin. The idea of getting on a motorcycle and riding to a friend's birthday party in a part of town that is hard to find parking and drinking heavily and riding home did not appeal to me. I walk to the pharmacy and purchase a $7 umbrella and do my best to avoid puddles on the way to the police station to cash a check and withdrawal $100.
On the way home I walk down Santa Monica Boulevard to see how late the bus runs from Santa Monica to downtown Los Angeles. The bus runs all night long so I skip home and change into something for appropriate before walking back to the bus stop with $1.50.
20 minutes later I am walking in the rain along Santa Monica Boulevard in the vicinity of The Hudson. Once inside the bar I look around but cannot see anyone I know so I order a $10 Bombay and tonic and mill about until I see Marina hugging someone. She has a table reserved in the back so we walk over their and I buy her a $8 vodka cranberry as a birthday present.
People come and go and stop and talk but Marina is situation away from me so I strike up a conversation with a woman adjacent me named Caitlin and we talk about why mean cats are the best and which serial killer would be the most interesting to have ice cream with. She says Jack the Ripper. I say Jeffery Dommer. I order a Guinness and re-introduce myself to people I've already met. Marlin orders a round of Jameson shots but one woman isn't drinking anymore so I oblige to take one shot and sip another shot.
We drink and talk and dance until the bar closes before walking out to the parking lot where Marlin offers to give me a ride home. He has been drinking but I am not sure how drunk he is so he walks a line to prove his sobriety when a drunk driver swiped his car at 5 miles per hour. Marlin walks over to the Ford, looks at his car and demands $100. The driver of the Ford says he only has $50. "Then get the other $50 from your passengers," replies Marlin.
The assertiveness with which he extorts the $100 implies rational, sober thinking and I agree to take a ride home even though the rain has all but ceased. We head west towards the beach and I smoke a cigarette enjoying the wet wind in my face as we zoom through fissures in traffic before saying bye to a friend I haven't been friendly with in a year and change.
"You hit my car," demands Marlin to the driver of the Ford. "It's cool," responds the passenger in the front seat. "No it's not," retorts Marlin.
The right rear reflector of Marlin's Honda Accord has been chipped but remains in tact and a Kennedy half dollar-sized piece of silver paint is now gone. I was worried Marlin was too drunk to drive let alone give me a ride home from The Hudson in West Hollywood. He is a generous, good-natured friend to begin with but I'd seen him take at couple of shots and have a handful of drinks during the Friday night celebration of Marina's birthday.
Months had past since I had seen either Marlin or Marina so when I received a text a few days prior that Marina was having a birthday party on Friday I was looking forward to the night all week as these were the first people I met when I moved to Los Angeles two years ago today.
Clear skies turned to rain as I left work and made my way home. The damp wool and leather I wore to work clung to my skin. The idea of getting on a motorcycle and riding to a friend's birthday party in a part of town that is hard to find parking and drinking heavily and riding home did not appeal to me. I walk to the pharmacy and purchase a $7 umbrella and do my best to avoid puddles on the way to the police station to cash a check and withdrawal $100.
On the way home I walk down Santa Monica Boulevard to see how late the bus runs from Santa Monica to downtown Los Angeles. The bus runs all night long so I skip home and change into something for appropriate before walking back to the bus stop with $1.50.
20 minutes later I am walking in the rain along Santa Monica Boulevard in the vicinity of The Hudson. Once inside the bar I look around but cannot see anyone I know so I order a $10 Bombay and tonic and mill about until I see Marina hugging someone. She has a table reserved in the back so we walk over their and I buy her a $8 vodka cranberry as a birthday present.
People come and go and stop and talk but Marina is situation away from me so I strike up a conversation with a woman adjacent me named Caitlin and we talk about why mean cats are the best and which serial killer would be the most interesting to have ice cream with. She says Jack the Ripper. I say Jeffery Dommer. I order a Guinness and re-introduce myself to people I've already met. Marlin orders a round of Jameson shots but one woman isn't drinking anymore so I oblige to take one shot and sip another shot.
We drink and talk and dance until the bar closes before walking out to the parking lot where Marlin offers to give me a ride home. He has been drinking but I am not sure how drunk he is so he walks a line to prove his sobriety when a drunk driver swiped his car at 5 miles per hour. Marlin walks over to the Ford, looks at his car and demands $100. The driver of the Ford says he only has $50. "Then get the other $50 from your passengers," replies Marlin.
The assertiveness with which he extorts the $100 implies rational, sober thinking and I agree to take a ride home even though the rain has all but ceased. We head west towards the beach and I smoke a cigarette enjoying the wet wind in my face as we zoom through fissures in traffic before saying bye to a friend I haven't been friendly with in a year and change.
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