Monday, January 26, 2009


Today I rode up in the elevator with Bobby, a medium-set man in his sixties with a shock of white hair plummeting down his forehead. He said he'd lived in this building for 25 years and asked me, in a monotone Forrest Gump voice, "Where are you from?" I replied that I grew up in LA. His face lit up, and he boasted in a little boy voice, "I lived on Ventura Boulevard. I used to set up singles events in LA!" As the door opened to the fifth floor, his eyebrows raised in merriment, "Once I got thrown out of Charlie Chaplin's mansion!" I replied, "I bet you have some great stories to tell." "Yes sirree," he chuckled as he scampered out of the elevator.

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