"Black palm trees sway, they whisper to the purple sky. Close your eyes and feel the ghosts of Hollywood gone by. Still the dreamers come, still the dreams are left to die. Behind the lights, a necropolis lies."The last time I'd looked at the clock, it had been quarter to midnight. Since then, I'd been tossing and turning, trying to find a place where the mattress fit my body. Outside were voices and a repetitive tapping just loud enough to creep into my ears and knock on the part of my brain that makes me grind my teeth and clench my jaw. When I opened my eyes, I could see the rhythmic flash of someone's blinkers cutting through the blinds, leaving an intermittent orange stain on the wall. They'd either broken down or they couldn't get through the elctronic gate to the student parking opposite. Either way, it was something mechanical. I closed my eyes.
The flash of light came first, electric blue lighting up the world outside so that Jenn and I jerked upright just in time for the explosion.
"What the fuck was that?" I murmured, blinking sleep out of my eyes, wondering if I was dreaming.
"I don't know, lightning?" Jenn replied. She was already out of bed, grabbing clothes and heading for the door.
I looked at the clock. "The power's out. I thought maybe someone was working on the gate across the road..."
We went to the window. The street outside was peaceful enough, but a crowd was already gathering on the corner of Yorba Linda, pointing up the street towards the freeway exit. From the excited burble of the rubberneckers below, we gathered a car accident of some kind. Of course, everybody had a different story, and even when we went downstairs, the only things we could say for sure were those we could see with our own eyes. The electricity was out because the power lines hung limp and dead about halfway to the ground. The reason why was lost in a crowd of flashing lights. If it was a car accident, it was a pretty major one.
There was nothing more to see or say, so we returned to bed and lay listening to the voyeurs until they too began to drift away. By the time I fell asleep, all was quiet.
Jenn got ready for work by candle light, and when I rolled out of bed a couple of hours later, there was still no electricity. That meant no shower, no PC, and no TV. It also meant no oven, microwave, fridge, or freezer. I lay in bed listening to my iPod for a while, then decided this was a good opportunity to take my running experience out onto the streets of Orange County. After all, no electricity also meant no treadmill.
It was a cool, clear morning, despite the storms the television had predicted before it died. I jogged out onto Associated feeling almost absurdly upbeat, the muscles in my legs stretching for a workout instead of screaming blue murder, my lungs working quickly and easily, still close enough to the memories of cigarette static that being able to breathe was like gaining some kind of super power. I'm almost two months into this regime now, and the differences are no longer a matter of degree. I'm fitter than I've been in years, noticeably slimmer. I have stamina to remind me that I ran middle distance in my teens and was pretty fucking good at it. I'm still a long way from an athlete, but I'm starting to feel an impressive distance from what I was at the turn of the year, too.
In the spirit of exploration, I crossed the street and took a left onto Bastanchury, where I found myself confronted by a positively evil hill that stretched, as far as I could tell, about half a mile into the distance. I doubted I was up to running such a vicious gradient for that long, but I gave it a shot anyway, slowing to a walk just past halfway and feeling I'd done enough to work up a sweat and earn myself a little respite. Besides that, I wasn't sure where I was running to. My intent had been to jog around the block and see how I felt, but as well as being a steep hill, that particular part of Bastanchury curved sharply inward towards the centre of my mental lap, leaving me wondering if getting home without backtracking was going to get complicated.
I needn't have worried. The top of the hill was marked by an intersection I recognised. Just as I turned onto the street that would take me back towards the college, though, I noticed something I'd never seen before. On the opposite side of the intersection there was a park. Not such a big deal in and of itself, but one of the reasons I kill myself on the treadmill every morning is that there really isn't any local car-free place to run. A park as close as this one would be perfect.
But first, an aside regarding the pedestrian right of way law and jaywalking: You see, in California (and some other places) the pedestrian has right of way on crosswalks. Essentially, that means if there is a pedestrian crossing the street, on a crosswalk, whenever, all is right with the world. At the same time, there is also the charge of jaywalking, which can be brought against any pedestrian who isn't crossing the street in the proper manner, that being at a crosswalk, and when the little green sign says it's cool. So if you cross the street at a crosswalk when there is no little green sign, you're guilty of jaywalking despite the fact that you have the legal right of way. Interestingly, this would mean that if a pedestrian was to be hit by a car, on a crosswalk, while the sign said 'don't walk', you'd have a victimless crime, since both driver and pedestrian would be criminals.
I may be entirely wrong about all of that, so if anyone wants to correct me, feel free. All I know is that in England, you can cross the street whenever and wherever the hell you want, with right of way generally being dictated by whomever would be left intact in the event of a collision.
All of the above is by way of explaining why I was so perturbed when I realised that the 'walk'/'don't walk' signs at the intersection of Bastanchury and State College are fucked. I have yet to fully understand how intersections actually function in this corner of the world, and without electronic guidance, I have no idea. This is how I found myself running across two busy streets in what I hoped was a fashion that just screamed Right Of Way.
In the end, the traffic-dodging was worth it. Mountain View park doesn't offer much in the way of running space (though if running in a tiny circle around a couple of rose bushes is your thing, it's the shit), but it does offer a tremendous view. Yes, of mountains, but there was more than that. In the distance, barely visible, I could just make out the rigid grey fingers of downtown Los Angeles where they rose through the haze like a last gesture for mercy. In a sense, it was a similar feeling to that I often experience when I fly, that sudden shift in perspective that makes you realise just how much world is out there, and just how little of it you'll ever experience.
I walked slowly home, suddenly more aware of how affluent the area around me had become. The hills around my new home are filled with gated communities inhabited by middle-aged white folks. When I stood still and listened, I could hear the chattering of sprinklers and the polite baritones of upmarket SUVs. Making my way down State College Boulevard, I could literally see that point where there was litter again, where nobody had been out to trim the hedges. Shortly after that, I reached the first frat house, and it occurred to me that we wouldn't be able to live here if it wasn't a college town. For whatever reason, I'd never thought of it that way before.
