century city cindy
and why what we resist persists
what do you do when youre not driving she asked
id picked her up at the recently remodeled fairmont hotel in century city which was notable decades ago when i pumped gas at the then all full serve union 76 gas station for having one of the few rooftop helicopter pads which is why then president ronald reagan liked to stay there
i find new ways to disappoint my girlfriend i answered
she laughed and flipped through her phone. we were going to lax. rush hour. which terminal i asked
united she said
i flipped around my cubs hat and asked going to chicago per chance
she lit up and said yes im doing some work for john mulaney who is doing a show at wrigley field on saturday
what the
i know she said just as amazed as me
do you travel a ton i asked and she let out the biggest sigh
unfortunately i do. i never get to be home. but when im home i miss traveling. c’est la vie, she sang.
la vie, i said but she didn’t get it
it was quiet but i didnt wanna put on the music so i asked what was the coolest place youve been to this year
well, she said, i just got back from india and it was a little heartbreaking
why didja get sick
no i went with a friend to visit some friends who live there. and id been before and i knew there was a disparity between wealthy and poor, but i never saw it like this, she said
is it any different than here in LA? i asked thinking about how i had driven my gf to langers in the macarthur park neighborhood and at a stop light we saw a guy in the middle of a Fentanyl Fold bent over while standing and miraculously kept his balance while being seemingly passed out. he just hung there. zoned out. and it wigged her out and she started tearing up a little
much different my passenger said
the gps told us to get on the 405 but thats crazy talk. i stuck to sepulveda
most of my friends and i are progressive she began. i thought these two were too. but when we saw their place outside mumbai we knew something was peculiar when we were greeted by a young woman who immediately appeared to be a servant.
she took our bags, she cooked, she tidied up as we chatted with our friends, she served us drinks and then took them away. this house, mind you, was four bedrooms. my friends were in the main bedroom, we were in the TV room, there was a sewing / crafts room, and there was an office or what they used as an office.
oh nice i said, sticking to sepulveda while keeping an eye on the map that contined to say the 405 was jammed.
in the middle of the night i got up to use the bathroom because surprise surprise the food did not agree with me perfectly and when i went into the kitchen to get a glass of ice water there she was sleeping on a thin mat.
the maid? i asked.
the maid, she said.
i looked into the rear view and she was a little emotional telling me about it
like thats where she slept. not in the sewing room. not in the tv room. not in the office.
why did they want her there? i asked. did they tell you?
no, i didnt bring it up. none of us did. it was just so shocking. you go places and you understand that cultures are different wherever you go but i thought i knew these people.
where did this woman store her regular clothes? i asked.
i have no idea. i dont even know if they paid her enough to buy regular clothes. thats what i learned: even the middle class don’t pay their help enough to do more than survive. its like they want them to be dependent forever in the situation and be grateful theyre not out in the slums or whatever they call them. it was heartbreaking.
and as she said it she started crying
im so sorry she said but couldnt stop sobbing
i dug into my glove box and handed her over a short stack of jack n the box napkins which she thanked me for
and then despite my better judgement, i got on the 405
