The wind whipped around my head as I climbed Crescent Heights. The ski wool cap tried to protect my leaking nose. Each step found a rigid palm tree branch blocking my path. Empty Christmas streets refreshed the walk. The tornado winds stop as the dark quietness makes Los Angeles into a barren post nuclear wasteland. The Merry Christmas greeting I was spewing all day brought smiles. Once a year the isolation masks disappear. My destination is the Director’s Guild for a screening of A Star Is Born. I am revisiting the film to share the brilliance with my husband. The city is being reborn.
As I straddle along east Sunset, my mystic walk dissolves. I see a line at the Laugh Factory comes into my view. The memory of my standup comedy endeavor is glowing. Creativity peaked when I wrote my comedy set. The recent $5.00 for five minutes gig at TAO on Western was a bust. The red walled Zen vibe room surprised me. But the room of seven competing comics didn’t make a receptive audience. No comparison to the showcase at the GLBT Village. In that environment I was surrounded by supportive amateurs. The crowd of thirty black box theater watchers was starved for comedy and we delivered. TAO comedy club proved that I could repeat the high I felt at The Village. Performing in front of a straight audience gave me unrivaled confidence.
As my sightlines leave the Laugh Factory, I hear a scream.
“Get out of here. Leave us alone.” Is bellowing across the street. A shirtless boy is thrown into the on-going Sunset traffic. The honking begins. A CBS mobile news van is perched on the corner. Are they filming the fight or covering Christmas Day at the Laugh Factory? Another boy pushes shirtless to the grown. Two girls wave their hands as they squeal. The louder shouts make my hearing aid buzz.
My ecstatic mystical walk is impeded even though I am on the south side of Sunset. Each time shirtless tries to rebound to his feet, he is thrown down by a different boy. The looky loos expose their I-phones and capture the drama. I am in flee mode as I start to run towards the guild.
The blaring horns form a nightmare rhythm. Where are the police? The pitchy screams keep repeating “ Leave us alone. Get away”. Shirtless is running across Sunset. He jogs into the distance. His attackers rewind and return to the Laugh Factory.
I gulp a deep oxygen infested breath and continue my trek to the Director’s Guild. Husband is there waiting to soothe me.
““I have a tale. This Christmas will be an indelible day.”