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by Debrah (writer), Los Angeles, November 19, 2011

Credit: specktacular-style.blogspot.com
fight the good fight

Life in Los Angeles... never a dull moment!

As I pull into the driveway of my house, I feel at ease. I have missed living in Los Angeles. Although I am not a native Californian, I moved to LA when I was just 23 - this is home for me. It's August 2009 - allot to do before the kids start school and I head off to Italy for the Venice Film Festival. This year has already been on turbo with the filming of 'Sinatra Club' and all the commuting between SFO and LAX.

Driving down Ventura Boulevard in the right hand lane, turning onto Laurel Canyon - the Mercedes in front of me is annoyed that the car in front of him is not making a right hand turn. He sticks his Persian head out the window and shouts out with a clear and precise tone, "TURN RIGHT YOU MOTHER FUCKER". It wasn't said in a boisterous or rage filled tone... it was just a statement, like matter of fact - 'please make the right hand turn so traffic can move on'. It's such a different world in LA than the normal and sane community in the bay area I left behind.

After a long day of meetings over the hill... rather than using the valet, I park in an empty strip-center next door to Fire Fly, a resturant bar in Studio City. I was only there long enough for a quick cocktail and appetizer at the bar. As I walk back to the car... much to my surprise, the empty parking lot no longer contains my suburban. I think to myself, 'WTF - the shopping center is closed. Where is my vehicle?' On the wall in front of me is a sign, TOP NOTCH TOWING. I call the number and sure enough, they towed my car. I was livid - do they have a monitor on the side of the building to see who parks and walks away? Is this a set-up, a money-making conspiracy with the strip-center?

The next morning at 7am, Sal and I drive to a seedy part of Van Nuys to retrieve my vehicle. I ring the buzzer. A big burly Mexican about 6.5, 250 lbs opens a long metal gate with circles of barbed wire above, three pit bulls stand beside him. I tell him that I am here to pick up the suburban. He motions me behind a steel door to a counter, he walks around to the other side of the counter - then he remotely shuts the gate and locks me in. My heart starts to pound a hundred miles a minuet. Suddenly, I feel like I am in a scene of a horror flick. Sal locked on the outside of the gate... 'the trailer-trash mother fucker traps the 5.2, 100 lb blond behind a steel gate with barbwire and pit bulls in a seedy part of town on a fog ridden morning' - what a great premise, but this was reality, and I wasn't thrilled.

I turn to find Sal - he is piercing at me between the gate. I notice that his phone is in my handbag. I pass his cell phone through the crease in the gate as he shouts out with his deep New York accent... "open the fucking gate". The dude behind the counter says "No". Sal ask, "why the fuck not" and the dude says, "because we are not open yet".

What the hell does that mean... 'we are not open yet', are you kidding me? My head is spinning... reflexes grab my blackberry and dial 911 - simultaneously, I see Sal's eyes scoping out a plan to hurl up the side of the garage next door and leap over the barbed wire to rescue my ass and beat the holly shit out this guy.

Finally, I hear a woman's voice "this is 911, what is your emergency?". Keep in mind... this is LA and it normally takes forever to get a response from the police, unlike the safe little suburban community I left, where the Police show up at your door in less than 5 minuets.

I was terrified to say the least - visions of being raped, tied up and tortured were flashing in front of me. I told the 911 women that I was being held against my will, that the Top Notch Towing dude locked me in. She ask me why and I told her I have no idea. She ask me to put him on the phone. I handed this asshole my cell phone... they talked for a moment - he handed the phone back to me shaking his ugly-ass head as if I had done something wrong. He opened the gate. I darted straight to Sal's car, got in and locked the door. Sal finished the paperwork, paid the man and drove my Suburban off the lot. We went straight to the Van Nuys Police Department to file a complaint.

That night, I settled into bed. Planes flying over my house, helicopters hover above, the sounds of ambulances ring in my ear. Sleeping has become infrequent. I feel like I did with a new-born... always sleep deprived. The crickets are chirping and the sound of my colorful neighbors voice shouts at his barking dogs... "Shut your fucking little pie".

WELCOME BACK TO LA DEBRAH !!

As I cover my eyes with a mask and put in the earplugs - I think to myself... 'it's time to toughen back up'. At that very moment - I realized that living in my safe little suburban community... I had let my guard down, and I needed to put back on the armor and mindset of "city life" once again...

Debrah is a writer for BrooWaha. For more information, visit the writer's website.