tanja

They all reminded you of yourself. You saw the plaintive faces once inside, all of them reflecting back to you who you are. Everyone from the by-the-book door lady, who told you you needed to walk clear around to the other side because your printout wasnt honored here. Artificial lines are what irked you the most, and you already considered going home. Then the gent asking for your ID; you didnt have it with you, it was in another coat at home. Besides, you didnt need to show it to him - when you told him you were 31, he reluctantly let you in. You couldnt help but feel humiliated, though. Surely this man knew you were ten years over the legal age and was doing this to embarrass you? But making it past the ID guy didnt ensure entrance to the club, though, silly girl. Who were you but a girl with the same coat as a multitude of other girls? Who were you but a woman in a beige hand-me-down, dejected and alienated from the rest of the world? Is it crazy to want the same things they wanted? You were from this city, after all. You went to L.A. Unified... after all. But the people at this joint liked documents. By yet another man, you were then asked for a printed receipt, and only when you threatened to leave were you let in.

Its enough to discourage anyone from ever exiting their home again.

Then you met pseudo-barkeeps embarrassed by your cash. But you always paid your own way - whether with money or a printout, from a contest, that wasnt enough to let you in.... Enough of that, you somehow made your way in. And once inside, you remembered L.A. Unified. You remembered the array of people you encountered back then, and you remembered what made this place home.

Why did you feel as though you were intruding? You werent, you realized. So you looked for a place to park your played-out coat for the dance floor. You asked the security guy if you could leave your stuff up there, and after asking you for a cigarette, he said he didnt care. You questioned why, for about an hour; why you were there and why you existed. You felt hideously regarded by your peers, the transplants and the L.A. Unifieds, until you thought, Damn them and their sadness. But then when you looked at them, you could see that they knew you - and you knew each of them. Your face was familiar somehow, and they looked to you to do something next. So you came home and wrote of your purpose - to explore, to write, and to try to find happiness.

People dont understand that when you dance, you want to dance, and no loud voice is able to break your hypnosis. The European public service announcements and the footage of the travellers aid society on the screen reminded you of your youth at the Frankfurt International School. But it was with the cigarettes, girl, where you lost your cool. And you knew that this endearing happenstance was what kept you amused. You lit the wrong end of one, as you were hypnotized by a duo glancing at you. Quickly and stealthily, you broke off the filter, and re-lit your cigarette. No one was the wiser. It wouldnt have been odd if it didnt happen AGAIN, as you stood by the same duo, and once again, with slight of hand, you corrected your cigarette.

Youve seen me a thousand times, trolling through your scenes. Youd say I know that girl, but I dont know from where. I was surveying. I took note of every sour glance, of every drink-fueled come-on, of every friendly bathroom chat. I endured it all just to find a place where I could be happy and in peace, in one piece. Though Ive been looking to escape from L.A. since the day I was born, Im beginning to wonder whether this is where I belong. Its a pity that in one of the most discouraging, disillusioning, disheartening periods of world history, we should want others to feel alienated and excluded. Many would love L.A. if they just knew how to get in.