A Diary Of Life Among Millennials

Tag: Meth Freak

The Next Day On The Red Line

The Red Line.  24 Hours later.

This time I’m going into Hollywood to do the hang with the Production Partner when a police action holds us up for a few minutes. A Meth Freak starts ranting about something and he has to go. No big deal. Welcome to the 2018 Opiate/Amphetamine Pandemic: Los Angeles Theater.

The train gets underway after a 10 minute delay and from the back of the train, the door opens and lo and behold who comes into the car but the same guy dressed in black, body armor, several mags on the vest with his holstered pistol. This time instead of stroking the barrel of his weapon he’s holding a brown paper bag and walking up and down the car eyeing people with an odd sense of calm.

Instead of freaking out and calling the cops – we’re moments from my stop at the Hollywood/Vine Station so I’m fucked if he goes Postal – I decide to turn to the two 23 year old skate punks with baby dreads next to me and see if they are as disturbed about this display as I.

Baby Dread #1 – You mean that guy?

Baby Dread #2 – He was in the car when the cops came in and left.

Me – And he comes back after they leave. Look at him. With all the accounts of Jihadi’s dressed in black blowing themselves up and what’s happened recently in London and D.C. you feel perfectly safe with this creepy guy in here?

Baby Dread #1 – Of course. He has a police badge on his vest bro.

Baby Dread #2 – Word.

Baby Dread #1 – And calling him a Jihadi is totally racist.

Baby Dread #2 – Totally bro.

Several other straphangers within ear shot agreed with the Baby Dreads, on which statement I had no idea.

Of course, the police shield in question was a tin replica shaped like an LAPD ID with the name of a different security company than that on his left shoulder badge which was different than the name of the security company on his right shoulder badge but hey I’m sure he works for all those companies.  After all, these are trying economic times.

Moral of the story: if you ride the Red Line that hits Vermont/Beverly Station between 9:20 and 9:34pm on any given night you are doomed.

It Really Happened

The subway ride today found me standing slightly in front of two college girls in their baby blue tennis uniforms with EAS stitched over the heart slowly making their way back to NoHo from 7th Street/Metro Center or various other points in between. They were engaged in a conversation about a boy and a girl.

Girl #1: So they he said it and it happened.

Girl #2: It happened?

Girl #1: It really happened. It happened.

Then they speak quickly in some language I’m not sure of even though I understood some of the words as they ran by quickly. It was as if Moon Unit Zappa’s Valley speak and Esperanto had a child in Encino. After a few seconds they were back.

Girl #1: Then she said it and it happened.

Girl #2: It happened?

Girl #1: It happened. It really happened.

Girl #2: It really happened?

Girl #1: It really happened. It happened.

They lapsed back into their post-Valley Speak speech. Maybe it was the humidity, the heat or the feeling of disgust as another Mass Man and great unwashed Meth freak argued over the chewing gum on some passed out schmucks’ shorts but I thought I could understand what they were saying, as it happened.

At that exact moment in time, the train came and I was off to East Hollywood and a date with destiny or a chicken burrito which ever came first.

This may sound odd but I’m pretty sure I was at Ground Zero at the discovery of cold fusion.

The 7-11 In The ‘Hood

Overheard at the 7-11 at Normandie and Beverly:

Meth Freak 1 – The 747

Meth Freak 2 – Which 747?

Meth Freak 1 – The one that went into that river.

Meth Freak 2 – That river?

Meth Freak 1 – Yeah, that river.

Meth Freak 2 – The 747

Meth Freak 1 – Yeah. They gave Scully a choice: put the plane in the river or we’ll shoot it down. So when he put the nose up they let the birds go to kill him.

Meth Freak 2 – How do you know that?

Meth Freak 1- It’s all on the black box but they had to edit it out of the movie because of continuity issues.

Hollywood: even the Speed Freaks are in the business in this burg.

A Stand Up Guy

As I waited for my chicken and rice at the local food truck, a local Meth Freak wrapped in a tattered blue and red sleeping bag tries to get my attention.

Meth Freak: Hey Goombah.

I ignore him.

Meth Freak: Hey Goombah look at this.

He pushes a lottery ticket with all the boxes scratched off under my nose.

Meth Freak: Do you know what a symbol is?

Me: Of course.

Meth Freak: Numbers are symbols too, right?

Me: How the fuck would I know? Numbers are numbers and symbols are symbols…unless it’s 666.

Meth Freak: Thanks Goombah. You’re a stand up guy.

I’d like to thank said Meth Freak for proving once again there is a fine line between Italian and Jew. So I got a Roman nose, what can you do?