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Cabbing in Laguna

It is late spring in Laguna Beach.  The sun’s heat pelts the glittery sidewalks and oily streets.  Fancy cars; Bentleys and Beemers, Masseratis and Ferraris shuttle their drivers to gourmet supermarkets and back to gated estates;  a Hummer stretch limo, all black and trimmed in chrome, glides down the palm tree lined street, bass thumping as it passes by.  I see the kid’s faces; alive with anticipation; it is the end of scholastic servitude and the beginning of sun drenched beaches, warm oceans and good surf.  The days are growing longer.  The bars are filling up with dusty inlanders, thirsty for a drink and a tanned local.  I sit and watch as Laguna Beach passes me by, trying hard to accept my place.  The dented and faded Crown Victoria that serves as my employment sticks out like a crumbled up piece of trash someone threw on the floor in one of the local fine art galleries.  My cab and I are invisible untouchables in a city full of Brahman. 

The Tourists Arrive

The Summer Vibe is getting thicker.  The tourists are starting to show up; their pale ghostly, often flabby bodies in severe contrast to the tan svelte bodies sported by most of the locals.  They wander down the shop lined streets.  Their glowing skin will soon be sacrificially burned; an offering to the God of California Sun.  They are clad in bikini tops, crazy-t’s and hoodie sweat shirts that say “Laguna Beach” in sparkling rhinestone letters.  Ice cream, the color of pink, yellow and green, is scooped into sugar cones and greedily liked and drips between fingers.  As I work up and down PCH I observe the various “types”. 

Some have uneasy faces; they do not feel safe so far from home.  The occasional homeless man, all filthy and sitting somewhere he shouldn’t, disturbs them.   They fear the local shop keeps will rip them off.  The landscape and people are too foreign and perhaps seem sophisticated.  They are terrified when the Hare Krishna monks parade down the street with shaved heads and orange robes.  Their chanting and tambourining and drumming evoke terror in these ones.  They are sure the devil has taken this false paradise for his own.