Still unable to face another bowl of oatmeal at Big Boy, I ventured to the best croissant place I've found... Corner of Lankershim and Moorpark, I think.
Ordered a double espresso. The owner, who I've dealt with once before when I got there before the cashier, hadn't a clue what I was talking about.
He said, "Small, Medium or Large?"
I said, "Um, a double espresso."
"Small, Medium, Large?" He repeated, pointing to each stack of styrofoam cups in turn.
"Espresso?" I said, pointing, "The little porcelain cups?"
"Oh!"
I should have recanted and ordered a hot tea right then. But I wanted that espresso.
So he makes it. Brings it over to the counter sloshing all over the sides of the cup, filling the saucer, and spilling onto the counter. I can see grounds floating in it.
"Is that okay?" he asks. "I've never made it before."
"It'll be okay," I say. I don't think making him start again will really help. I order a bottle of water and a croissant with it.
He rings up $8.00. Er. Let's try that again. We get it down to $5.90, but I'm still not satisfied. I read the prices to him from the board behind him. This time it's under $5.00 and I'm willing to let it ride.
Thank goodness we're speaking English. Well, at least I am. He's speaking English via somewhere in the South Pacific, maybe?
I sit down to write and end up listening to the elderly guy at the next table greet everyone he hasn't seen since before the long weekend. He's sitting with a guy with a very strong East Coast Italian accent. A couple comes in and she says to the elderly guy, "How's my little Italian Jew doing?" Laughter.
A guy in painter's clothes comes in. "Miguel!" he doesn't speak a lot of English, either. But enough to josh about going back to work again. Then there's a guy with what might be an East Indian background joining in the helloes.
Don't tell me Los Angeles isn't an international city. There was a lot of good will in that little shop, and it was a nice reminder that this isn't a bad place to come back to at all.
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