I hate this. It sucks whales. I hate this. It sucks big dog turds.

Mondays

Mondays are often the thinnest crew of the week and today was no different. Just 3 of us. AIDS Walk L.A. was Sunday, and since everything in West Hollywood is a BFD, this a.m. the parking lot was full of production crew and equipment un-doing the BFD.
So we loaded up in the van and Julio took us to east WeHo to clean up La Brea and head west. I get the new guy, some young 'n' dumb white kid who seems kind of tough but you can tell comes from something better than 'street'. He's handsome but with an edge, and I don't want to pay too much attention to him b/c of his hot shot kind of attitude and he seems to know so much anyway. I just tell him about Julio's obsession with the butts.
He looks over at me repeatedly. Sometimes I catch him and hold his stare, sometimes I ignore him completely. WTF. These are the times I feel oldest. I'm tempted to let him know that I'm old enough to be his mommy. But I save it for another day.

Sorry I've been lazy. Its just so monotonous. And I'm not picking up trash in the rain. I've done it before; it makes me cry.

Pacing

So this guy I worked with for a few days, the one that was hungover that day, who moves the slowest I've ever seen. The two of us together moved like a snail. Now I'm getting it. You can move so slow that you're staying in one place as long as you act busy.
Last year one of the first guys I got partnered with on a regular basis was this Isreali dude, about my age, had done his time in the Isreali military and seemed to be pretty darn fit.
He was very nice, put me at ease. He had a system: one person does the inside of the sidewalk, the other does the outside which includes the street gutter, we take turns pulling the can. Very simple. If there wasn't much trash, we'd take turns - one person picks up while the other walks along pulling the can. When we did this he was a comedian and he'd kick the butts in front of my face, like Julio.
"What, you don' like the brown ones? Heh-heh." Maybe this is one reason I'm the weird one who notices every single butt out there. I'm the butt police.
He bought me coffee on many occasions. Because he wanted coffee and he thought in our vests it would be easier for me to get service. I don't know why we were so insecure about it. The first time he gave me a $5o to buy two small, er, tall coffees at Starbuck's. In case you ain't in the know, Starbuck's doesn't take $50's.
The guy let me have it on the house. After that, I made sure to bring small bills to 'work' so I wouldn't push it at the 'Bux.
Several times, Mr. Isreal wanted to sit down with his coffee, have a smoke. But we're always looking over our shoulder and I didn't really want to sit with him. Nothing personal.
He always walked fast. There really weren't 'slow' days w/Isreal. In fact, the days were grueling and my legs always hurt. I actually lost weight. It got to be ridiculous sometimes - he'd be an entire block or two ahead of me, pulling the can with him.
It just occured to me that maybe there's a reason I got stuck with that jabberwalky a couple weeks ago, maybe its karma, that fickle bitch. Back then, with Isreal, I was the chatty one. Some days I just babbled on to pass the time. Maybe that's why he ran ahead, to get away from me. Hmm.
On his last day though, when we got to Hayworth and the 7-Eleven, he bought me an ice cream and we sat on the curb and ate them. When Julio came by, Isreal spoke to him and that was that.
And then, you never see these people again.
Well, except Lance. I see him all over the place.

The Cowboy

I don't like being judgemental of others. I believe in equality and often root for the underdog. I try hard not to compare myself to others because someone always ends up ahead.
Some days though, I'm a real bitch in my head. Like the first day I laid eyes on the guy who ended up as my partner today, I was startled, and half expected him to break out in a hillbilly version of The Village People's "YMCA." Having never seen him before, I felt totally justified in ignoring him. Until I had to work with him, I could pretend he didn't even exist.
Since then, he had said 'good morning' a couple of times and seemed friendly in a Green Acres sort of way, so when we were partnered today, I was laid back and kept an open mind. Its been an easy week, relatively speaking, and I was eager to keep it that way.
He is light-eyed and fair-skinned with a skinny bald head on top of a wirey, middle-aged man's body. Every day he wears extremely faded jeans that look like they had the help of a bottle of bleach, a buttoned shirt with the sleeves cut off, really, really, old cowboy boots and a dirty white straw cowboy hat. We refer to him as... 'the cowboy'.
He speaks with a southern accent and behaves like one might expect a middle-aged Texas man to behave - very congenial, but he is from Conneticutt(sp!). Been in Cali for a while. I'm quite sure he's gay. He is here because of a DUI that he didn't deserve...
And now he doesn't know if he wants to stay in Cali because of how tough and expensive that DUI is - insurance, SR22,the attorney he wasted money on, how is he going to get around, how can he get his Cali license back without giving up his Conn. one... I started to worry that he might start to cry as he was sounding more and more emotional, like he's still caught up in the stress of it all. I do try to stay uninvolved, but I just had to reel him back in a bit.
I told him I road my f***ing bike all over this freakishly spread out city for an entire year and yes insurance sucks but not to get too caught up in the now because it is temporary and his life will get back to something resembling normal he just has to ride it out...
Because that's what I keep telling myself.

Today

"Fuck you, you bitch! Can't you see it says bottles & cans only!" I'm jabbing the end of my broom into the recycle can trying to smash the copy of Frontiers magazine down inside. The top had a smallish circle on top just for bottles and cans and the magazine was sticking up out of the circle. Just this morning, Julio had informed us that the reason we are required to use the gardening/labor-style gloves provided was so we could stick our hands into the trash cans along Santa Monica Blvd. when they were overflowing and smush it down. That's what I was doing.
My hung-over, sleep deprived partner found it amusing. Which of course made it amusing for me. Soon we were both getting a good laugh. It was that kind of day.
I take 3 Aleve every morning. Today it didn't seem to help. But the time passed quickly and another half-day was done.

The Van

So the priority for this crew is Santa Monica Blvd. If there are 4 people, they'll all be there. The overflow, especially if you're only doing 4 hours, usually go to the van. It has a big, gated trailor that holds the cans, brooms and dustpans and bags of trash. The van crew will be dropped off at different places, wherever Julio decides.
As was pointed out to us today by a suit, Weho is only about 2 miles large, so you clean the same places with little variation. For example, I have cleaned the hill on La Cienega from Santa Monica up to Sunset and back, way too many times. I'm sure there will be many more yet.
The van can be a welcome respite, a chance to build camaraderie or a den of silence. Often you learn who to ignore, or who might be nice or entertaining, or who doesn't speak English, only in the van. The van picks you up if you're leaving at 10:30am, and everyone gets picked up and taken back to the park at lunchtime.
When I started, there was a girl doing full days, 5 days a week, to complete her sentence. She kept her backpack in the van everyday. In it she kept her antibacterial gel, face cleaner wipes, deodorant, etc. Back then, I thought maybe I should pick up some tips from her. But she was young. There was never any way I'd be doing 8hours/5days.
The van is the best time to talk to Julio, too. I've told him about seeing too many people I know while working Santa Monica, because my place of business is smack in the middle of it. Now he only puts me there when there's no other choice. And, only when I had a really shitty day, twice to be exact, I've expressed my distaste for my partner of the day, and so far, that was the end of our partnership.
In the van, you can relax and let off some steam. For the most part, people are pretty tame. Except for the occasional guy who decides to get into it with Julio.

P.S.

Oh, and that sweet gay guy that got 18 days for riding his bicycle on the sidewalk? Someone else told me that he'd been busted with pot (marijuana,weed) at the same time. Which is none of my beeswax except he actually said "Can you believe they gave me 18 days for riding my bike on the sidewalk?"
Last year when I did this I kind of lost interest in listening to people's stories of how they got in trouble because you always end up hearing an additional twist from someone else who'd worked with them. So I prefer to keep the conversation light and preferably entertaining. I want you to make me laugh, or say nothing at all.
Which is not how my day went today, since I was with the same guy as yesterday. At first I thought I might get lucky as he seemed more subdued for the first, oh, 15 minutes. Yesterday, it was right off the bat and nonstop for 3 hours, mostly about how he's not guilty (yea, you and half the other guys), and that his ex-wife wrote a somewhat successful screenplay 30 years ago.
I can't remember where it started today, but this guy has experience in everything from horses and Arlo Guthrie to speaking 3 languages and world travel. He pointed out the corner where Sal Mineo died and Gary Busey busted his head open crashing his motorcycle, and oh, he was a teacher for 40 years and thinks maybe the old in-school spanking system wasn't such a bad idea. He reminded me of that Jon Lovitz character on SNL, the one that has a new lie for every topic? Yea, that's the ticket.
I am not a fan of cocktail parties, and today reminded me of why. At least at a party I could escape.
An interesting small world tidbit though - he's talking about his ex who was raised in Bel-Air and made a few dollars on that screenplay and became an animal rescuer. She fell in love with teacup chihuahuas and had one named yo-yo. Then he said the woman's name, and I thought, OMG, I adopted my dog from that lady. She'd seemed a little different to me, but a lot of animal rescue people do, to me. Sure enough, a spoiled little rich girl who left Hollywood for the farm. Or something.
It made me miss my buddy Lance. Not the small world thing but working with this guy. Lance had to do this last year and we got partnered a lot. I don't think many people liked Lance. He made me look very balanced, which is when I know I've got a doosie (word?) on my hands. Maybe he was a little crazy. But if I wasn't in the mood to talk to him when we worked, he would do or say something so silly it would crack me up. And he'd tell me he was just trying to improve my day, or something.

blah blah blah

White guy, 59, 6'6", did not shut up the entire time. One of those people that make you wonder if they get out much, if they've discussed their case with anyone else, and if they have some need for validation.
I think some people need to talk. Some are uncomfortable with silence, I guess. I just go with it - if they need me to be involved in the conversation, I'll try to be cordial.
But give me a break.

Yesterday

was ridiculous. I get partnered w/ a 12-year-old trapped in a grown man's body. I thought I'd dated some freakishly immature men, but this guy probably beats them. He threw a tantrum because I wouldn't go super, super, slow and sweep up leaves. So he stormed ahead, leaving me with the can for the whole morning while he did as shitty a job as he could at trash pick-up. And he had to be around my age or older. I think it was a control issue. And of course, I really don't care.

Back to That 1st Day

It was hell. Again, having had no idea what to expect, I'd signed up for a full day. In my tight jeans and 85 degree sunshine.
I was partnered with a young Hispanic guy to clean the north side of Santa Monica Blvd., from Doheny, heading east. He said he had a wife, 3 or 4 kids, and was planning to be an actor. He was a nice guy to be with on my first day. Taught me about the butts. Told me we could take our time, spend an hour on each block. But no, I was intent to prove something and would cover as much ground as my physically fit self could.
He talked about movies, asked me what kind of music I liked, kept the conversation friendly and somewhat constant.
My wrists and forearms became sore just from carrying the broom in one and dustpan in the other. They each have handles which reach approximately from hand to ground length, give or take how tall you are and how much you have to stoop to maneuver the damn things.
That first day I felt humiliated. For a while, you cannot believe that this is you and you HAVE to pick up trash along a busy street and obey the rules or you will go to jail. I'm quite sure no one sees it in their future. So when it happens, you do kind of have to embrace it or you won't be able to get your ass there at 6:30am for as many days as it takes to complete your sentence.
I could not embrace it after that day and I didn't return for about a month. I think I collapsed that afternoon, and then cried to my mom that there was no way I could manage this monumental punishment.

Julio

Despite what you may hear from time to time on the crew, I think Julio is a stand-up guy. It isn't personal that he enforces the rules, I don't think. But then, I have heard him say, "If you thin' I don' like like you, I probably don'." But I don't think he shows favoritism. He'll joke with you, pick you up if your sick, you know, human stuff.
I think he's been here 10 years or so. He's around 30. U.S. citizen. Worked his way up with the company. I think he actually works for a company that's contracted with the city. And he goes to school. I don't think he sleeps much.
The radio in the van is on 90 percent of the time, and its always on the Christian station. Always. I've never heard anyone be disrespectful of that. I grew-up around that stuff so I can block it out or whatever. But if I was in a van spouting a religion over the radio that I am not so accustomed to hearing, one that spoke of things that I found offensive or disagreeable or annoying or whatnot, I would consider it an infringement of my rights to have to listen to it.
Sometimes I want to ask Julio if he believes that drugs truly open the door to Satan or if he forgives every single person who wrongs him, but I don't really want to have those conversations.

Smoke Gets In yer Eyes

There are about four fires that have been burning around L.A. The closest one is in La Canada-Flintridge. Temps for today were predicted to be around 100. Which is why I only signed up for a half-day. Tuesday it was only about 90 and it was a hell day. Plus, I was working with a girl for the first half of Tuesday. Many chicks on this crew will try to avoid pulling the trash can.
Like today. This chick was just lazy. They make such a big deal about picking up the cig butts. And it was almost as if that was the only thing she was picking up. She left plenty of other garbage behind. I never tell my crew-mate what to do; and as a result, there've been too many times Julio came and made us go back and he'd kick the butts out in our face and pick up the trash we missed so why not just do it the first time around?
On Tuesday, the sun was hot on our backs by 8:30am. But because of the fires, this morning there was a thick brown haze holding back the heat. I had taken a Claritan-D, thats the strong one, along with 3 Aleve and a Welbutrin, and I was getting dizzy spells. Despite the Aleve, my back was threatening to go into spasm by 8:30. You know how the pain shoots up your sides almost to your waist? Welcome to my world.
And the pain would not have been so bad if whats-her-name had pulled the can an equal amount of time. Our route had been up Fairfax from Santa Monica to Fountain. That bitch gets heavy.
Plus, I was hungrier than usual. So when we got to Hayworth and the 7-Eleven, I got a Sweet & Salty granola bar and another water.
Of course, 'lazy' goes in, too. She'd been texting all morning, which is a big no-no. When they do this texting against the rules, and many do, they often will go on a side street and hide behind a tree or a car. But she's just standing on the side of Fairfax in that bright orange vest, punching away.
When she finally came out of the 7-Eleven, she really got busy. She crossed over to the other side of the street and just stood there punching buttons.

I just kept going, slowly pulling the can, making sure I pull in my Pilates powerhouse to protect my back. I don't know why I kept looking back at her, but I did. We had only seen Julio twice so far, and I had a feeling that he wasn't far. He always rolled around just when.

Sure enough, when I looked up the next time, I could see the light on top of the van, parked down passed the stop sign. Julio was acting busy, so I did, too.
Eventually, he moved the van closer and told us to get in, we're going somewhere else. I noticed three stalks of these little cream colored, bell-shaped flowers, about 20 on each stalk, laying on the passenger seat of the van. I asked Julio if he was going to give them to his girlfriend.
"No, I am going to eat them," he said. Of course, I laughed. "You think I'm kidding?" Julio is from El Salvador. His accent is kind of thick. We joked a little. Then he explained that the flowers are used in El Salvadorean cooking, and are especially tasty as an added flavor to scrambled eggs.

Sure enough, you DO learn something new every day.

August 25

So I made it the full 8 hours.

August 24, 2009

Back on the job today. Its been a weird, gloomy August, but the sun is back. Knowing this, it was tough getting out the door this morning. Despite my ambitions to start putting in full days, I signed in for a half-day.
My partner was brand new on the job. Another nice, single gay guy close to my age. He's working off a fine for riding his bike on the sidewalk. Eighteen 8-hour days for riding his friggin' bike on the sidewalk. On the day he went to sign up for this duty, the offices were closed due to the furloughs(sp?).
We worked the southside of Fountain from La Brea to La Cienega. A pretty easy route actually. No hills and not much foot traffic. Not much trash. I make sure to tell the new guy that obviously we have to pick up the trash, but cigarette butts are the main thing. And if you don't see them, our man Julio will come point them out for you.

For whatever reason, my back didn't bother me either.
I was 43 when I started this. I'll be 45 when I finish.

Day One

The first day I performed of my 492-hour Community Service trash pick up penalty was mid-July 2008 in sunny Los Angeles, Ca.. I had no idea what to expect. To be prepared, I wore long jeans and packed a backpack with food and anything I could imagine I might want to have during a long, hot day of labor. And because my driver's license had been suspended for a year, I hopped on my bike with plenty of time to spare. It was 6:00am.
Honestly, though, I believed I deserved some such punishment. I did some damage and was willing to pay the piper. But the D.A. took advantage of the Patriot Act and used my life history to throw the book at me, and my lawyer practically helped her. Maybe I'll tell his name one day.
It took a little longer to get to West Hollywood park that morning than I'd anticipated. By the time I got there I was sweaty and anxious and wired. First I wandered around in the dark looking for a place to lock up my bike. Then I wander some more looking for an office or something. There were a few figures around, some wrapped in blankets on the ground or a picnic bench, a couple walked by. Finally, I spot a guy in an orange worker vest. He must know something, I think.
But he doesn't even acknowledge me when I speak. So I just follow the sidewalk until I luck out and see the dimly lit hallway that leads me to the classroom where my community service supervisors, Raymond (supervisor) and Julio (more like crew chief) have the morning sign-in set-up. There were a couple of other crew-member guys already there. No one really acknowledged that I even walked in the room, so I present my court papers and i.d. to one of the guys sitting at the table.
This guy is Raymond. He asks me to read and sign a contract. After asking me to remove my earbuds, he informs me that absolutely no use of iPods or cell phones will be tolerated and doing so will result in being dismissed.
After signing in and learning that there is no secure place to store my backpack and I'd be carrying it with me all day, I smiled, turned and walked back into the dawn, following in the direction that the rest of the people were heading.

And here's something 'bout me: I believe in a Higher Power and occasionally pray, or at least say "HI".
That morning, I was praying.