The Typical Insanity

you feel like a socially awkward penguin.

There's blinding sunlight pouring through the side window and a snoring tourist who, prior to drooling on my shoulder, refused to close said window during the entire flight to Los Angeles. It was alright in the beginning since 4 am had no sun in particular to blind me but now I've got half a mind to slap the Texan awake, mostly for keeping me up throughout the trip by telling me how great our independent and free nation of 'Murica was and partly for the wet shoulder I am now a proud owner of.

Despite the opportunity to let my mind wander as the idiot blabbered on, there were so many things I just didn't ask myself. For starters, I woke up in my bed the previous day, fully clothed with Clementine back in the kitchen but no one slept on the couch, what happened there? And she was smiling so much, it made my cheeks hurt just to look at her, why was she so happy? And on the subject of Clementine, why haven't we just tried to break down her apartment door? Isn't there some way to replicate her key or something? Why was I so indifferent about letting her stay with me when I hadn't even explored any possibilities of getting her back into her house? How does she keep turning my button up shirts into short fashionable dresses? Why didn't I think of these things? I'm sure Rien would tell me that I did not want to and I'm sure I would agree.

I peer down the aisle and try to spot Clementine. It would have been nice to sit with someone familiar but this was the only way we'd be able to get on the flight as soon as possible without having to wait another day. Besides, she looks like she's had a good time laughing with the lady beside her, they look about the same age which makes wonder exactly how old Clementine is. An air hostess comes by and bends down towards me.

"Sorry to bother you, sir, but could you tell your partner that the plane will begin landing soon and he needs fasten his seatbelt?"

I give her a slight nod, grimacing a little and turn to the bulbous man. I nudge him a little to no avail. To condense the next ten minutes as short as possible, I spent exactly four minutes trying to wake him up and the next six trying to ignore his speech about common courtesy which escalated to the moral values of 'Murica. Eventually the plane landed and I began to miss Stanley 'Just call me Stan' Parable.

LAX Airport was busy but really, what airport isn't? The two of us managed to get out pretty easily since neither of us are carrying any luggage except for my backpack and her tiny purse. Clementine claims that she's got enough 'stuff' at her dad's place and she also claims that the purse is called a clutch. We catch a taxi and head for Hollywood. Hm, when people say that in movies, it always seems like they're referring to the industry with all the glamour and excitement of fame and whatnot but the place is actually called Hollywood, with streets and residences like Beverly Hills in it. I knew Los Angeles was a sort of City of Angels and Dreams but I didn't expect talent at every corner. There were all sorts of people performing on the street, sometimes playing music and sometimes dancing to the music. I've honestly never seen a place like this before. Its like you start a new life here, down in the comfort of strangers with only one chance and one shot. It's almost beautiful if you don't think about the broken arrows that aren't able to shoot across to fame.

When we reach Sunset Boulevard, there's a man with a guitar singing. While I wait for Clementine to pay the taxi driver, I can't help but be caught up in the song.

"Hang me down, by the river bed with the other dead,

I will die, without a sound,

Hang me down, by the river bed with the other dead,

I will sing underground,

Save me, save me, save me,

Save me again," I can hear Clementine calling me over the guitar but I don't want to leave just yet.