Thursday, December 2, 2010
A Morning in Crenshaw
The lady on the phone from Southern California Gas said the nearest location was at 3625 Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd in Crenshaw and I instantaneously shit in my white boy underwear.
I had no idea what the words, "racial divide" really meant until I crossed La Brea Blvd. heading east into Crenshaw but it became quickly evident that I was the only cracker this side of the city. My snowflake ass soon grew uncomfortable as it became seedier and seedier. I passed shops called African Book Market and salons advertising Cornrow Extensions. Yes, there was plenty of fried chicken joints as well so albeit an old racist joke the stereotype holds true.
I got to my destination or at least where the GPS said the office for SoCalGas was. I parked around the corner, hid the GPS in the console and walked back around the corner to the address as quickly as I could. It was a derelict building with bars across the windows and doors and a tattered Obama poster reading Obama: Freedom to Change.
Well fuck you, SoCalGas. My honky ass is running back to the car as quickly as these white and much slower than black feet can carry me. Into the car and around the corner onto Crenshaw Blvd and back up MLK jr. Blvd. to Rodeo. Back across La Brea and I was starting to relax. When I arrived back at the studio to start my day I noticed that though the lady on the phone had told me 3625 MLK jr. Blvd. I had written down a different address from the SoCalGas website.
Goddamn it all. I have to go back tomorrow morning.