You have to call them on the phone, and they’re not yellow. You can get a taxi here but they’re not out roving around where you can jump off the sidewalk and hail one. This is a small city, large enough to have four McDonald’s but not so big that you see more than the occasional homeless person on the way. I had picked the place thinking it was still the Mexican bar and grill it had been the previous month in fact, the change was so recent that one wall was still covered by an incompetent mural of a dusky woman riding a bull and proudly flying the flag of Mexico, carrying a cartoon burrito the size of a pig under her arm. I was at a restaurant called “They China Food!” which was owned by a couple of brothers from the Czech Republic who, as far as I could tell, didn’t know a whole lot about China or food. The place I was sitting was a small city in the Midwest which will remain undisclosed for reasons that will become obvious later. Unfortunately, this story does not take place in Los Angeles. One minute it’s small-town monochrome neighborhoods and then boom-all of a sudden you’re in a sprawling Technicolor freak show, dense with midgets. THEY SAY LOS Angeles is like The Wizard of Oz.
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