Chapter #10

[Scrap #1] The truth was that now with all the pressures behind me the desert began to be a bit boring. Of course, I did enjoy the sunny winter with over 20 centigrades outside and cool mornings but I also felt it was time to move. Money was not such a big problem anymore but to be prudent I decided to take only twelve units per semester which meant I would take me at least a year more before I could transfer to an university. That was not a problem for me. The issue was whether staying another year in the desert made any sense at all. And the answer was no. I fell in love with Santa Monica even before coming to California. It must have been the impact of the Beverly Hills 90210 which I would watch religiously on my small colour Elemis TV back in Poland. Who wouldn't want to drive to school in a convertible or live in one of those houses by the beach? Now of course I knew that it was a slightly (to say the least) exaggerated image of Los Angeles but that did not prevent me from visiting it as often as I could.

[Scrap #2] Greyhound became the key to my paradise. Everyone seemed to have a story about the quality of the service or the companion you could expect but for someone like me who didn't have a car it didn't matter. For several bucks I could board the bus in Indio and after a few hours of drive and some stops on the way it would drop me in Downtown Los Angeles. Then all I had to do was figure out public buses and get to the beach. That was a journey in itself, a real treat for people watchers. The reward was the cool breeze of the ocean and the sense of freedom in front of you. In the morning I would hop back on the bus which eventually would pass through the electric windmills and drop me off in Downtown Palm Springs. I would get a frapuccino (Chocolate Mocha - yes, cream on top please) at Starbucks by Palm Canyon Drive and wait for Akira and his Honda Accord to pick me up. He would drive me to Michael's just in time for the Friday's evening shift. By the time the night ended I would be already plotting my next trip.

[Scrap #3] "You need to do whatever it takes to get into Berkeley". I had just met Professor Scarffe while walking toward the library. It was one of those nice winter sunny days with fresh and sharp air. Sort of how you would feel in the mountain resort in late spring. A few days earlier I had been awarded the highest scholarship available for an international student (a one off thousand dollars) and I was thanking her for writing me a letter of recommendation. She had graduated from Berkeley herself and then London School of Economics. There was not a single paper I wrote that wouldn't have some critical comments. I really liked that. And now she was pushing me to do something impossible. I had kept my promise to Akira to keep my straight A student status so I knew I had a real chance to at least get into UCLA. The problem, of course, was the money. The tuition in those universities was around 25,000 dollars a year, four times my college fees. An impossible amount to earn. I thanked Mrs. Scarffee for her nice words and continued walking towards my destination. Berkeley, what a lifetime opportunity that would be!

[Scrap #4] The fact that school like College of the Desert had so many good teachers could come as a surprise considering that it was located... well, in a desert. My guess was that with its slow pace and weather it was an attractive place for academic minds who wanted a bit of peace in their lives. Also, it was the only college around so if you happened to live there and wanted to teach (whether full or part time) there were not many other options left.

[Scrap #5] Another person that wrote me a letter of recommendation was Byran. For the most part international students were not eligible for any scholarships or financial aid but College of the Desert set up three one time awards for outstanding students. The first prize was a thousand dollars and the two remaining places would receive five hundred dollars each. I had never seen what Mrs. Scarffe wrote but I suspect her letter mostly focused on my academic record. Byran's on the other hand was a description of my "modest background" and the hard work I put into being a "good immigrant" in the United States. "Please help him!" was how the letter ended. The call from Christina, the head of the international office, came while I was walking to a golf class (physical education was part of the college requirement and I conveniently chose the class that required the least amount of movement). I won the highest prize. "I am the smartest international student in town!" - I celebrated the news with Akira over lunch at a Thai restaurant. The sight of the kitchen's door made me grateful that my career of a dishwasher never had a chance to take off.

[Scrap #6] Although not living with Akira was a big push to go out and make my own friends I still enjoyed his friendship. It was probably even better and it removed arising from two pretty self-centered and motivated individuals living together. While now Los Angeles was going to be my territory to discover I could not forget out first trips to Hollywood and later venturing out as far as Grand Canyon (where for the first time I got pulled over by a real American police officer for speeding - I got away with a warning). It was natural then that it would be him taking me to the airport so I could fly back to Poland before moving coming back this time to Los Angeles. We ate a meal at the same Japanese place at Tom Bradley's terminal and while I was happy to be going back to Poland I was also sad leaving a part of my life behind. There is no doubt that without meeting him my life in the desert would not be the same. Sure, we were going to keep in touch but I felt that a big chapter in my life was coming to an end.

[Scrap #7] It was the comfort zone that kept pushing me away from the desert. At Michael's I was already properly set in. It was not the most peaceful place to work at but I discovered that my position did have certain leverage. I could make some of the dishes appear at the table faster than others so when I suspected that a waiter was under tipping me I would hold the orders for a bit. If the waiter complained I made sure he knew the reason. Of course I had my favorites. JC could be really harsh (he once literally made me cry when the order I sent was too cold) but he could be also very generous. Ron (the Polska Duma) was always kind to me and often would give me a ride home. Keith the bartender liked to talk about politics. I couldn't really talk much about with Javier and other dishwashers but with my basic Spanish I could at least make them laugh with all the new vulgarities I had learned. I once even met them at Carl's Junior and that's all our 'conversation' was about. I even liked Gabe although he annoyed me with his ass kissing.

[Scrap #8] The story about Michael's restaurant would not be complete without special mention to all the kitchen staff and busboys. People like Miguel who would come every shift to make salads and still put smile on his face. Or Jose he would work two jobs and all he wished for was for his sons to go to school. They were all immigrants. The sweat on their foreheads and swearing was the other side of the American dreams. As for Michael, yes he was scary and tough but it's hard for me to find anything bad to say about him. To run a successful restaurant for twenty years did require a personality. But I also got to see a soft side of him when I told him I had to leave. He was genuinely moved. On my last evening he took out bunch of banknotes and just handed it to me - over a hundred dollars. Not a bad bonus for otherwise a boring shift.

[Scrap #9] If I was serious about moving to Los Angeles I needed to make some connections. David, a guy I met while he was visiting Palm Spring for Christmas break, was the only person I knew who lived in Santa Monica. He had his own life and although we stayed in touch I didn't feel we were that close to call ourselves best friends. I turned to an old tested method, internet chat. I would use the opportunity of being in Los Angeles and finally met Angus who not only would visit me in Palm Desert but would let me stay at his place while visiting Los Angeles. He did study at USC and lived in downtown Los Angeles but at least I now had some sort of anchor and what was first just a rough plan slowly stared taking up some shape. Changing school was the easiest part - all I had to do was go to the international office and my papers and course credits would be transferred to a new college. Of course, I had to figure out how to make a living once I got there. I decided to leave this worry for after I had arrived.