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Monday, June 1, 1998

Your mission:

to seek out new life and to boldly

go to Westwood

COLUMN: Doughnuts

in hand, students search for secret truth of village

Some say Westwood is dull. Some say its inhabitants are both unfriendly and about as exciting as car wax. So I took it upon myself to investigate the situation.

I contacted my roommate, Jen, and we decided that last Wednesday night would be the perfect time to go undercover. Keeping a travel log with us on our journey, we got to the dark heart of the treacherous town known as Westwood.

10 p.m. - Prepare disguises. We're working off of 60 hours without sleep, recovering from a messy weekend of excess. This will be a test of endurance.

10:30 p.m. - Add final touches to disguises.

10:35 p.m. - Choose personas. I am the Scottish cowgirl working the Peruvian jungle beat. Jen dons wings, antennae and a red sweater of fur. She is some kind of rare insect or safari fairy. What is that moving out of the corner of my eye? What? Did you say something? But we're not sleepy yet. Time to move.

10:50 p.m. - We're on Gayley. We have with us a mystery mammal and yellow saran wrap. We must now pursue Stan's doughnuts to see what we can uncover.

10:55 p.m. - The corner of Gayley and LeConte looks unsurprisingly dead.

10:56 p.m. - Comments received from passers-by. "Nice outfits!" they say. We wonder what they mean. As we approach the Coffee Bean, trepidation sets in. Where will our mission lead us? And what exactly is the magnetic force which has led us into this seemingly harmless town? We continue on.

11 p.m. - Receive 6-pound bag of doughnuts from "Stan's Corner Donut Shop" for $3.50. No, make that $3.00. Hector gives us a discount. Jen notices that apron boy at the back appears intrigued by our presence. We wonder why. Could there be something deeper going on at Stan's that is kept from the general populace? And why the discount? But perhaps that is another story. Let us continue with the mission at hand.

11:05 p.m. - Enter abandoned store at 1002 Westwood. Find mysterious object labeled "hose mender" lying on ground. We realize that it was our purpose and that we can now leave. We continue to seek out a hiding spot where we can consume our doughnuts.

11:06 p.m. - We attempt to open door after door of abandoned Westwood Avenue storefronts. All are locked. But why so many? Why are all the retailers leaving Westwood? What information are they privy to that we aren't? Or are they preparing for some take-over, leaving their spaces empty, so that "the others" can move in? If so, who are these "others"? Will they bring their fascist ways or open up the town to a generation of free love and bongo drums?

11:07 p.m. - Contemplate the mystery of the hose mender.

11:08 p.m. - A man in a blue parka vest checks us out at the crosswalk outside of Ahhs! We move across the street to secure our hiding spots. It's not important from who or what we are hiding. Never you mind that.

11:09 p.m. - Still in our spots, snacking on doughnuts, we attempt to look friendly. It's the corner of Westwood and Kinross, where the outdoor cafe used to be. We think we remember they used to have music, too. Now it's the space in front of the abandoned storefront that used to be The Wherehouse.

11:20 p.m. - Man in lumberjack suit shakes the vibe. Is offered doughnut, refuses.

11:21 p.m. - Disillusionment sets in. Where are our people? No one will take the doughnuts.

11:24 p.m. - Glimmer of hope ... denied. Large man won't take doughnut. Is no one friendly? Is no one vaguely interesting? Are we putting off weird vibes? Can they tell we haven't slept in 60 hours and that time no longer exists for us? Have we slipped out of their dimension, no longer able to connect with the members of time's reality? It could be the disguises.

11:25 p.m. - Still there are doughnuts. The mystery mammal is at rest. Fortunately, the hose mender is made out of non-corrosive nylon. Very good.

11:26 p.m. - More skirted girls in chunky heels walk by. They appear as nameless as the short-haired men in khakis adrift in the city streets beside them. And not a one will take a single doughnut.

11:28 p.m. - Perhaps it's Jen's wings that keep people away? But oh, could it be the curse of the hose mender?

11:30 p.m. - Legion of recognizable college peers walk by. Refuse doughnuts politely. After quick smile, glance back with odd looks.

11:34 p.m. - Two guys actually approach us. Though they refrain from doughnut consumption, they stop to converse. They have left the bars to purchase milk and bread, as you "can't survive on shots alone." Jen and I ponder if they perhaps are privy to information otherwise unknown to us. Meanwhile, they have restored our faith in humankind.

11:36 p.m. - Mission No. 1 now complete, we rise to tackle mission No. 2 : buying toilet paper.

11:38 p.m. - A mellow man in black frames with greasy gray hair takes a doughnut. Things are looking up.

11:39 p.m. - We enter Thrifty's. I mean, Rite Aid. What is a Rite Aid? Is the sign misspelled on purpose? Is it even proper grammar if the spelling error is corrected? Does anyone even refer to the store as "Rite Aid" and will the name ever catch on?

11:40 p.m. - We decide to purchase "Whippy Dips Marshmallow cones." Ten calories per Whippy Dip. They resemble styrofoam ice cream cones. Mmm Mmm. Can't wait.

11:41 p.m. - We notice the blue raspberry and strawberry Melody Pops and must have them. They are whistles and yet candy. The mission would not be complete without them. Jen will go over the edge if they don't work. She's given up on people. If the pops are a no go, that's it.

11:45 p.m. - Reach the front of the line.

11:50 p.m. - Robert has acknowledged our presence. Actually speaks to us, though refuses to eat doughnut.

11:52 p.m. - Big guy at Versateller appears stoked to receive doughnut. "It's as easy as that?" he asks, just like in a credit card commercial or something. That's how everyone should be reacting, we think.

11:55 p.m. - Run into Greg at newsstand. He interviews us. Seems paranoid about why we're offering doughnuts. The stand closes.

11:57 p.m. - Two cool guys inside the closing up Penny Lane decline the doughnut offer. However, just by working at a store that now sells alterna-comic books, they have brightened the evening.

12:01 a.m. - Get blown off by every customer at Buck-Fifty Subs and Tommy's. They don't even appear slightly curious as to why we would be offering them a doughnut at midnight on a Wednesday. No reaction whatsoever, except for one guy who actually backs away from us, as though we might somehow be able to force a doughnut on him otherwise.

12:05 a.m. - We are left to ponder, do people just not eat doughnuts anymore? Humor us, people. Take a doughnut. Time to hit Broxton.

12:08 a.m. - The Capt'Go clerk sweeps up his outside area, closing up shop. Will only take doughnut if it's laced with something. Well, we tried.

12:12 a.m. - Three guys walk by, barely respond to our doughnut offer. Jen hears one say to the next, "She wants you," so the one guy rushes back, takes a doughnut and tries to get the whole bag. Apparently, by taking a doughnut, he would have me. Or something - it's still unclear.

12:15 a.m. - Offer doughnuts to cops who pull up alongside us, asking for directions to Monty's. The cute cop says we're not being PC. We should have offered them bagels.

12:16 a.m. - We pause to buy a trashy LAExpress girly mag. The machine eats my quarter.

12:20 a.m. - We attempt to get our money back, but fail. The dispenser is declared evil. We will definitely not be buying that rip-off rag again! Hmmph!

12:27 a.m. - Four snotty college students give us weird looks as we approach the Expressmart. However, our evening ends on an uplifting note as three clerks in a row take our doughnuts at that fine and friendly establishment. Odd, though, that we can relate better to the people of a different age group and social class than those of our own in the strange town of Westwood.

Our evening ended, we head for home with beers in hand and friends to meet. Still, we feel no exhaustion. But we await, with something less than burning anticipation, to see what Westwood will become by next fall, still unclear what exactly that town is now.

Over and out.

Vanessa Vanderzanden