by Garrison Frost

The concept of the "L.A. Moment" (as discussed in a recent L.A. Weekly article involving Val Kilmer, a convertible and a blonde) got us thinking about the concept of a "South Bay moment." Below are a few suggestions:

Sitting at an El Torasco – any El Torasco – and ordering more chips from the waitress as you continue to plow through a burrito the size of a football with a Pacifico on the side.

Watching the sun go down while sitting on a surfboard out in the water off Manhattan Beach on a flat, warm, windless day.

Opening your Thursday issue of The Beach Reporter to learn that the house next door – which is smaller than yours by one bedroom and half a bath – is listed for $400,000 more than you thought your house was worth.

Blazing down Palos Verdes Drive West with the top down on a June gloom morning with no other cars in site.

Playing lead guitar in a power surf punk band blasting in the living room of an abandoned house packed with more than 100 people.

While walking the length of the Del Amo Shopping Center, realizing that you are in no hurry, deciding to slow down.

Freaking out while stuck waiting at your third red light to cross an intersection on Hawthorne Boulevard, you notice that the rusted Cadillac next to you is blasting reggae. The driver is smoking pot. He smiles at you and nods his head. You smile back.

Discovering – in Palos Verdes, Lomita, Hermosa Beach, wherever – an amazing and heretofore unknown view of the ocean.

While sitting on the sand at the beach close to the walking path they call The Strand, you hear a woman call to her dog, "Come, Eskrow, come!"

You're sitting at a meeting of one of the city councils in the area and a woman gets up to emphatically contend that new light pole blocking, at most, 1 percent of the panoramic view from her bathroom window is the worst, worst thing that could possible happen to her family.

Saturday afternoon at Veterans Park in Redondo Beach. People of every race sharing the grass and enjoying some fun times with family and friends.

You park your car on the street in one of the downtowns near the beach. You're three steps toward your destination when you realize you forgot to put money in the meter. You turn to go back, only to realize that there's already a parking enforcement officer writing you up. You plead your case, but the officer is having none of it. "I'm already done writing the ticket," he says, putting the ticket under your wiper blade. "Have a nice day."

"You look great. Have you lost weight? Cut your hair?"
"Yes. Everything."
"Everything?"
"That's right, I've had everything?"
"What does that mean?"
"Everything. Lipo. Botox. Transplants. You name it. Everything."

You plan your entire morning around the concept of reading the newspaper at the beach. You rise early, grab the paper off the lawn and head down to the sand with your folded chair under one arm. You sit, adjust and unfold the front page. You aren't two sentences in before the breeze folds a corner over the story you?re reading. You fold it back, then another is blown over. In another minute or two, you realize that this was a stupid idea.

(July 14, 2003)

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