The Best Gal in All the World
Dear Miss Landau Chapter thirty-eight A date for breakfast Friday March 12, 2010. I always call it the last day. The day I made the crossing. I didn’t lead a wagon train or drive an overloaded jalopy. But I went the same way, crossing the Mojave to Los Angeles . I woke up on time for the bus, broke my fast with free pancakes and coffee, and was quickly on my way. I remember the clear desert air, thin and cool, and breathing easy, as if it were yesterday, as I walked the 13 blocks back to the glitz and found my way to the Greyhound depot on South Main Street. I’d long forgotten that I didn’t need to go into Central LA. I could take the bus direct to Hollywood . It set out a little later than I’d expected, so I walked back across South Main and found a Starbucks. There was no free Wi-Fi there. Apart from my pancakes and coffee, nothing was free in Las Vegas . A hotel receptionist had explained that to me, too bored even to talk to me as soon as he realised I wasn’t ...