You, Me and the Metro!

Dear Juliet

No, I don't think I've told you this story...

It's a bit like being a child of narcissists, too. I've always had low self-esteem and tend to feel that if I show my emotions I'll be shot at dawn.

But I think it's all right now.

So, cast your mind back to January 2024.

I'd just escaped death (or rather serious inconvenience) in the aptly named Death Valley. I'd had an enjoyable $300 taxi ride from Needles to Vegas, spent a fun evening with three nurses at the top of the Strat and got the early morning Delta flight back to LAX.

You might even say I'd taken the last freedom moped out of Hellfire City...

LAX is a nightmare to navigate (hopefully the new Metro link has improved things, but it wasn't there then), but after I'd groped my way to the Virgin Atlantic terminal, all I had to do was stay there.

And once you're there, you shouldn't really leave.

And indeed, all my traveller's instincts told me firmly to stay put until my flight left at 6.00 pm.

But in some strange, symbolic and pretty stupid way, I wanted to say goodbye to you.

There was no sense to it. You didn't even know I was there and at the time I thought that if you did, you'd cheerfully have me shot at dawn.

But I went and did it anyway.

The lone Asperger left the airport and wended his way back to Hollywood.

I think I took the C Line to Willowbrook/Rosa Parks, the A Line to 7th Street/Metro Center and the B Line to Hollywood and Vine.

I went pretty fast up the steps, waved to you briefly and then went down again. All the way back to LAX.

I probably took this shot en route.

It was a pretty stupid and meaningless thing to do. I did have quite a bit of spare time, but if there'd been a hold-up...

Well, I hear the cardboard boxes on Washington Boulevard are pretty comfortable...

I caught the plane okay.

Still think you don't matter and aren't worth it?

Well, you damned well matter to me.

I think that's all I'll say for today.

Love,

James