There are two downtowns in Los Angeles.
The first is the newly gentrified downtown of nice restaurants, microbreweries, amenity-laden lofts and a Starbucks on every corner.
That’s a nice downtown. Nice to visit, nice to work, relatively clean and safe.
Then, there’s the other downtown. The older downtown. The downtown from…before.
The downtown of smelly bars open at 6 am, aggressive entrepreneurs (one of our drivers was solicited and I was informed that I needed to buy some drugs), houseless citizens, and what basically amounts to open sewers.
Why, oh why, when people have an entire city in which to defecate do they always choose to do so on our cable? I’ve never been able to figure it out.
Honestly it wasn’t as bad as it could have been - we came in to wrap about an hour after the shooting crew had left, but that was still enough time for the locals to… decorate our cable.
In this situation, there’s always a decision to make.
Do we wrap the (relatively) clean cable first, saving the gross stuff for last, or do we dive in and deal with the stuff that might make us sick when it’s before breakfast and we still have empty stomachs?
In this case, we decided to wrap the ‘clean’ stuff first, in the hope that the sun would dry up the worst of the filth, which sometimes happens. Mostly in the summer.
Then, it’s just a matter of avoiding the piles of dried up I don’t want to know*.
At one point, I noticed a discarded syringe a few inches from my foot.
Lucky for me, the needle was gone. One of my co-workers saw a syringe with needle intact, though. Yikes.
Lucky for all of us we finished wrapping and had everything staged by the truck, ready to be loaded, by the time the nice lady who was screaming about invading lizard people started doing what looked like the Watusi while she crapped in the middle of the street.
Ah, downtown. It used to be like this everywhere.
I’ve been on the show where the cable was covered with so much runny shit that the best boy called the rental house and told them if they wanted the cable back, they could don hazmat suits and come and get it.
We loaded the truck, threw away our gloves, and headed out. I decided to make a stop at an en route Korean Spa to relax and scrub off the worst of the funk.
They almost didn’t let me in, which I sort of understand, given how I must have smelled.
Lucky for me, I had some clean clothes in my gym bag and was able to soak, sweat and shower so I could head home not smelling like skid row.
I’ve got tomorrow off and then Friday I’m working on a nice studio lot where the filth won’t kill me right away.
*I know what it is. I just don’t want to think about it. I’ve never stopped being grossed out by piles of human excrement on the pavement.