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Swingers
Monday, August 28 2000
As I was biking to work this morning, I happened to see a television in the alley only a half block from my house. I immediately locked up my bike and carried the thing home, assuming that it probably worked. Sure enough it did, and, better still, the picture was excellent. It was an older model color Panasonic, the kind with manual rotary channel selectors. I figure whoever owned it was moving out in a hurry and didn't have any friends who wanted it, so he put it out in the alley. I just happened to come along before one of those Mexicans alley-trawler vans came through. And not only did I get the television, but I got a little wheeled Ikea stand for it too. And unlike the Ikea furniture showcased in Big Brother, it wasn't falling apart (due to some strategically-placed screws added by a pre-abandonment owner).
For lunch I went out with two of my colleagues to a newish restaurant in Santa Monica called Swingers, on the corner of Broadway and Lincoln. On approach we could see that it was fairly hip place with sexy mini-skirt wearing (but stylishly pierced & tattooed) waitresses who, though they looked like they should have been wearing rollerskates, also wore jaded expressions on their faces.
We met a former co-worker of the German guy K___, a young woman originally from Ireland. She still works at their old workplace, Berlitz, where, like K____, she is a project manager. "So how's life in the dot com world?" she asked, an infinitesimal trace of an Irish lilt still present in her speech. The BLT I ordered was unusually tasteless. As for the french fries (chips to you English readers), they were unusually flaccid. The only reason anyone goes to Swingers is for the atmosphere.
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