Just another perfect day
I was headed down in the elevator at the CCB this morning, after a fruitless hearing on the Juan Manuel Alvarez case. To my right are two nicely dressed Chinese kids, Abercrombie types. To the left, a pair of attorneys stand discussing what sounded like a statutory rape rap for a client that wasn't going well.
A couple floors down, a pelon cholo gets on, wearing baggy shorts in spite of the 42 degree heat outside. He's got the Dodgers logo tatted under his Adam's apple, "City of Angels" on the back of his neck and script ink where his eyebrows used to be.
Another floor below that, an LAPD detective in a suit, his badge and his strap visible on his belt, hustles for the door. The veterano puts his hand out and holds the elevator for the cop. The attorneys keep yakking away.
And we're all there, the kids, the cop, the gangster and the starchy old men, with me smack in the middle. Some days, I love LA.
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