PEOPLE-WATCHING one of my favorite things to do.
But before I completely creep you out, and you leave your computer thinking I’m a stalker, let me just say that I’m more of a “passive observer” than anything. And that’s what we communication studies majors do best right? We watch and observe people; a glorified “people watcher” if you will.
Another favorite pastime of mine is to ride the bus. And if you’re from LA, you’re probably doing either of two things right now: thinking I’m crazy or thinking I’m lying. (Both of which call into question my past attempt at making “people-watching” sound normal). The first time I ever rode the bus in Los Angeles, I was completely, utterly, and intentionally lost. I waited at the stop on the corner of 83rd and Lincoln for 20 minutes with black clouds of exhaust fanning my face before realizing that the benches at the stops aren’t really meant for sitting at all. Aside from the nasty graffiti scratched into the real estate agent ad on the back, unknown and highly questionable liquids made three matching puddles on each seat.
Finally when the bus arrived, and the doors flew open, I rushed to a much (but relatively) cleaner seat than the bus waiting station offered.
That’s when the scowling bus driver turned his head and scrunched his eyebrows. “Excuse me, excuse me miss!”
“Yes?” No need to shout.
“Are you gonna pay or what?” By this time the wrinkles on his forehead multiplied, making them too many to count on one hand.
“Oh yes, here you go.” I did bring a dollar bill for the ride. I’m not stupid.
“We don’t take dollar bills. Change only.” Seriously? A dollar bill is still valid U.S. currency Mr. Blue Bus Driver Man. And I don’t have change right now… This is ridiculously embarrassing, isn’t it? This is just like that El Pollo Loco in Redondo that only takes bills smaller than a 20. Sorry pal, my bank only gave me a 50 this time. Don’t give me that face, it’s not like I have 50 dollar bills just floating around, so don’t think I’m a spoiled rich kid so fast. In fact, this is the only money I have to my name. Can I just get my burrito please? Thanks. All I’m trying to do is ride this dumb bus.
“Well, I only have a dollar bill. Here, I’ll ask someone for change for my dollar bill.” I’m trying to be accommodating here.
“Step behind the yellow line! The bus is moving!” Snapping his head forward and grasping the steering wheel, Mr. Bus Driver Man finished the conversation.
As he steps on the gas, I trip backwards and stumble into the aisles. Fine, if he wants to be that way, I’ll take the free ride. Two can play this game.
So, I scan the bus for an open seat, trying desperately to pick the least disgusting one. And luckily I found a clean one (again, relatively speaking here). As a take a deep breath and look around, that’s when I realize that I was today’s entertainment for the bus ride audience. Everyone was staring. After my little paying problem, I might as well have put a sticky note on my forehead saying “I’VE NEVER RIDDEN THE BUS BEFORE AND I’M A COMPLETE IDIOT”. I couldn’t have sent a clearer message really.
But I’m not completely inexperienced on roaming Los Angeles; it’s just that I normally have a car. I go on these little “escapades” a lot actually. I tend to get in my car and not know where I’m going and just look for a road that I haven’t driven down before. But since I no longer have a car at my disposal, I’m forced to find other ways to get off the bluff. So today I decided to get on the bus and listen to 5 songs on my iPod and then get off. And if you think that sounds a little impulsive, you’re right; it’s something I literally decided when I woke up this morning. It’s a Saturday, so I walked two blocks to the nearest bus station on 83rd, hopped on and then after public embarrassment and 5 tunes later, I’m standing on the corner of Rose and Lincoln in the heart of Venice Beach.
Great.
Don’t get me wrong; Venice is fine – when you have a large group of people with you. For one, walking along the boardwalk alone only makes you more susceptible to persistent vendors and shopkeepers. They see that you’re alone and like vultures they surround you, feeding off your vulnerability.
And I like to take pictures of my adventures, but snapping pictures when you’re on your own only makes you look like… well, a creeper. But after a couple of minutes of unsuccessfully trying to indiscreetly get some pictures, the Venetians were on to me. Some vendors approached me and told me to pay five dollars for taking a picture of their stand. And that one man who had a petition to save the endangered leatherback sea turtles of Costa Rica wanted to know why I took his picture, demanding me to delete it in front of his eyes. I also tried to get a picture of the beach with the infamous “roller-skater” man with his white turban in the background. He spotted me from across the sidewalk and skated over to tell me he charges $10 for a picture (but he was willing to cut me a deal if I got 2 of his Bob Marley t-shirts for eight dollars).
Photographer Anne Fishbein said everybody gets nervous when you pull out a camera, and here in Venice they get greedy too. I’m actually impressed more than anything really, what a great idea to charge for pictures. If I were that man, I’d probably do the same thing. All those characters in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theater expect payment for pictures, so why shouldn’t the characters of Venice do the same?
But at the same time, there was this one picture where all I wanted was the beach. That’s it. And then some guy walks by and tries to charge me for taking his picture. He didn’t know that I purposely zoomed in to make sure he was out of the frame. Even after showing him the pictures he wouldn’t leave me alone. This is a moment where I wished I hadn’t gone alone.
But as kooky as Venice is, this is the LA I love. LA’s like that sibling you love to bag on, you love them to death and they might hate you for it, but they’re just so easy to make fun of. It’s so easy (and fun) to complain about how awful the air is here, and how unreliable the bus system tends to be, or how weird people are down on the Venice boardwalk. But truth be told, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
-- Nicole Ryan
(photo credit: Nicole Ryan)
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