Jay and I had attended our very first game at the Staples Center! Magic vs. Lakers! As two out of the total of seven Magic fans in attendance, we did our best to help the Magic out. Jack Nicholson was there, with his famed court-side seats, and sitting next to him was Adam Sandler, who looked really pissed off for some reason. The Lakers Girls came out and danced in sexy outfits sponsored by Carl's Jr. Weird. Oh, look! Hot girls! ...Let's get fast food!
There's an option to send text messages to the jumbotron, and we tried consistently to send messages like "Pau Gassol, your headlights are on, please leave the Staples Center and tend to your car," but no success. We should have known the man can't read. (Although Jay managed to sneak in some "I love you Jaime, Go Magic" messages, so I can cross "Jumbotron Romance" off my bucket list.)
Although we were up by 10 points in the third quarter, eventually the Lakers caught up and forced their way into the lead. They won, but, at the Staples Center, if the Lakers score over 100 points and they win the game, the WHOLE CROWD (even the Magic fans) get 2 free tacos from our good friends at Carl's Jr.- remember them from the Laker Girls' titties? Yeah! Tacoooooos!!!! It was the only thing that made the loss bearable.
Throughout the game, and at the final Lakers victory, the Staples Center's loudspeakers wold blast the chorus from Randy Newman's 80's classic "I Love L.A." The fans were in a pretty good mood after the game, and, surged triumphantly out of the Staples Center, spilling into the night with Randy Newman echoing throughout the arena: "I Loooooove L.A.!" "We Love it!"
By now, everyone should know how much I despise the Metro system. (See my previous blog "L.A. Stories-The Korea-Town Spaceman for my truly excellent reasons why.) However, tonight was a perfect Metro situation. There were trains which went right next to the Staples center, so, minimal walking, and only one train switch. It cost us $10 to take the train, whereas parking and gas would've been $30 or more.
So after the game Jay and I headed over to the train platform with around 50 Lakers fans. Bastards. We're waiting for the train, and feeling pretty sure of ourselves when some out-of-towners asked US if they were waiting for the right train. We confidently assured them that they were. Seconds later, a muffled announcement blasts through the Metro's speaker- the teacher from Charlie Brown now works for Transit Authority, and has proclaimed an indecipherable edict. Suddenly the crowd panics and rushes towards the train approaching on the side of the tracks.
"Is this going to Union?" No one is sure. As a confused mob, some people were certain enough that a train switch had been made- we followed the pack and stuffed into the train en masse. At some point, another mumbled announcement was made and enough people understood it to spread reassurance around, and the cacophony of disoriented public transportaion died to its status quo dull roar- except for the wailing...
Somewhere outside the train, and then inside the train, and then sort of floating from car to car was a very distressed person. It was the typical kind of schizophrenia-induced anguished cry of rage one hears occasionally from LA's homeless, but this was really bad. It was a wounded animal sort of howl- at once piteous, gut-wrenching and terrifying. The gnashing and raging continued, and then the raving began. I'm going to be perfectly honest here- at this point I thought, "Is that Adam Sandler?" It totally sounded like him for a fleeting instant.
As whoever was making this noise moved like a banshee from car to car, everyone became totally silent- you could see a wave of people clearing a path, but the Wailer was either small, hunched over or crawling, so I could only see where the sound was coming from but not the person making it.
Everyone on the train was silent and tense. We'd just left a frivolous sporting event and were headed back to our homes- here was someone who had nothing, and hence, nothing to lose. I always envision shattered glass and slashing to follow, and in a crowded subway car... I could tell by the widened eyes and white knuckles around me that I wasn't the only one who was frightened.
After one of those long moments which feels like forever, the crazed Phantom left us, and the doors closed. A tacit yet palpable collective sigh of relief went up in the sill silent subway car, and then,
"I LOVVVVVVE L.A.!" sings out my husband.
Too soon? Maybe so. Judging from the 60 or so dirty looks we got from the still-rattled riders, L.A. don't Love You. No wonder they make t-shirts that say as much. Later on, someone was courteous enough to reach out to us by shouting "The Magic SUCK!"
No comments:
Post a Comment