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The recession adventures of Crystal E, chapter deux

 

The sun’s outburst of pinks and oranges was promising to disappear in a blink of an eye as the sun quickly fell behind the tall buildings of L.A. Crystal E could feel the afternoon slipping into evening and her heart pounced at the thought of finally being away from the bank for the weekend. She was downtown at last, evident by the homeless citizens peppering the sidewalks with their slow shuffling and incoherent mumbling. She loved the environment; despite the dull threat that lingered amongst the dirty alleys and clumps of vagabonds, Crystal E felt alive in this city mostly because it breathed life on its own. It moved with its people, grew old, aged like fine wine, and always delivered a new day with enthusiasm and a sense of modernity no other city could afford. Crystal E passed by a business couple, each with a Blackberry that contained their lives and a Bluetooth in their ears.

            “Fed Ex lost the foreign currency again?! Oh that’s awful.” the blonde woman yelped. The man next to her, dark and suave, was speaking more softly. But as their Armani presences ghosted beside her, she could hear his Israeli accent.

            “No, the sub prime lending is what got us in this mess in the first place, Victor.” he said, adjusting the earpiece with his manicured fingers. Crystal E smiled. Thank God her work day was over and she had two blissful days of not having to discuss the recession with any other failing business owner or angry investor.

            Walking down Main St, she hung a right on 6^th and could see a couple of her girlfriends, Kat and Olivia, at the famous French dip place, Cole's, originators of the French dip. Their historic business started in 1908 and hasn’t changed since. Her step quickened and she could feel her calves flex as she skipped over the cracks in the ailing sidewalk, her Steve Maddens click clacking along the way. Cole’s was all original, original tile, original frame work, original recipes. Totally L.A. She ordered the French dip lamb sandwich and a Cosmopolitan, 1926. Her night ahead required some substance in her stomach and even though Crystal E was trying to avoid excess carbs, she ordered the home style mac and cheese for good measure. 

The green and blue magic beans she was bringing to a fantastically volatile Hollywood were burning a hole in her pocket and as dinner drew to a close she felt more and more excited to get in line for Vanguard one of L.A.’s most elaborate and busy nightclubs.

“You know who’s spinning tonight, right?” her friend, Kat, asked.

“Some guy with Dragonball Z hair and skinny bitches at his sides?” Crystal E replied.

“Oh, God, you haven’t been to a house club in awhile huh?”

“It’s called house now? Not electro?” Crystal E rolled her eyes at her trendy friend.

“House and trance,” said Kat. “And Kaskade is going to be there. It’ll be packed.”

“Well let’s get going. Should we take the blue line, or do we want to valet when we get there?”

“Valet,” they all said together.

“We’ll be too faded to get back on that damned train.” said Olivia.

As they walked out of Cole’s towards the direction of the parking lot where Crystal E left her car, she began fishing in her jeans for her tin Altoid box.

“Altoid, anyone?” Crystal E asked, smirking.

“Oh, you’re terrible.” Olivia narrowed her eyes and grinned. Crystal E dropped a blue pill in Kat’s hand and a green one in Olivia’s. Then she took a blue out for herself. 

“Parachute? Or just take them like this?” Kat asked.

“Decisions, decisions,” Crystal E laughed. “Like this, I guess. We can parachute later. Besides, we don’t want it to hit us too quickly. It’ll take awhile to get in Vanguard, especially if what’s his name is playing tonight.”

“Kaskade,” Kat corrected her.

“Whatever! Take your happy pill and let’s roll.” With that the three girls focused on getting their primped selves down Main, into Crystal E’s car and down into the flashy depths of Hollywood. As the chemical drove like LAPD through their veins, the night began to border on complete madness and an honest to goodness yearning to touch upon the youth that so many have lost in the weeds of city life.

Photo: Downtown Los Angeles, Peter Nijenhuis, www.flickr.com, 2007