five grand

Every time I take someone to LAX I take a picture of Encounter.

Today I went 3 times.
The first was a Black urban planner from Detroit.
The second was a woman living in swanky PV.
The third was a stripper who did not one bit look like a stripper, she looked like the head of the Babysitters Club, acne on her cheeks and jeans and not even an interesting top.
In fact: she’s already graduated from a UC in art history, grew up near Calabasas, has only been stripping for 6 months, entirely in Vegas so to keep a down low persona, lives by the beach, and I should have known when her passenger name said Onyx and her suitcase felt
Her biggest night: a handsome rich guy from DC paid her $4k to hang out with her in the back and chit chat all night and hold his hand. No monkey business. He tipped her and extra $1k at the end of the night.

picked up a dear friend at the airport

huge mistake. sunday nights at the airport are the worst. but she was very sick and we go way back.

it was actually a good learning lesson because if anyone tells you that things are better there, that very well may be, but it’s still a disaster and i do not envy anyone flying into there over the next 5 weeks because this was just a normal sunday night and it was impossible to move during certain parts. and those parts screwed you for 20-30 minutes.

the blessing in disguise is i heard the bears collapse via radio which made it difficult to throw a tv out the window.

beautiful day and night, otherwise.

warm, bright moon. tom waits.