Dispatches from El Segundo
Greetings from El Segundo, California. A land that, frankly, time has forgotten. How is it possible for a place that sits 15 miles from downtown Los Angeles to not absorb any of its current culture, you ask?
Dear reader, I assure you I have no idea.
But they’re doing it down here. Somehow. It’s like a Biodome situation only its hapless inhabitants are free to leave anytime they want. This is a place where Crocs are still cool. A place where it’s not uncommon to see a PT Cruiser drive past blasting Smash Mouth. It’s a place where you’d likely be welcomed with open arms should you show up at a neighbor’s house with a VHS copy of Adam Sandler’s “Click” and a sixer of Zima.
El Segundo is like Los Angeles’s Cuba: so close, yet so far behind. It makes Marina Del Rey look like Manhattan.
I’ve seen things down here that would make Mark McGrath blush. I saw a guy at lunch wearing Duck Head brand khakis. Where would you even buy those? Stein Mart? I’ve seen seemingly mentally fit young men wearing Sketchers. An old woman at my office smokes like she doesn’t know it’s dangerous. Square-toed men’s shoes and black pleated slacks are alive and well. I feel like there’s still time to warn them about 9/11.
I can't wait 'til they discover the Gangnam Style video though. They're gonna freak.