I checked my cell phone for the fourth time in 10 minutes.
Ojitos was running late. The show would be starting soon and we still had to pick up snacks and drinks. Although the Los Lobos concert was only a few miles away, I worried we wouldn’t be able to find parking. The beach was bound to be packed for a free show.
He called. Did he get lost, I wondered? No, he was on my street, which he insisted was pronounced with a long A rather than the short A.
I grabbed my things and walked out to greet him. Unlike the Sunday comedy show, all jitters were gone.
He stood outside his car smiling. I hugged him and breathed in the lingering scent of coconut sunblock. He was handsome and casual in a light blue Ñoño t-shirt, jeans, a green track jacket, and Chucks. I smiled as I noticed how that we were dressed similarly (my black t-shirt depicted an Aztec rockero). It was only fitting that I’d be attracted to a guy who looked great in the standard Chicano uniform.
After making brief trips to buy ice, beer, sandwiches and snacks, we finally headed west to the beach.
In Santa Monica, we waited to get in to the parking lot. We were complaining about having to pay for parking or why a Los Lobos concert on the Westside would be so crowded, when he stopped. He looked over at me, turned my face towards his and gave me a kiss. It was good. Sunday night wasn’t a fluke, alcohol-, or heat-induced. It was real.
We parked and headed to pier. I could hear the faint sounds of Los Lobos playing their hits.
“How are we supposed to find your friends?” I asked as I trudged through the sand with the Dodgers blanket and Subway sandwiches.
“We have to look for L. She said she’d be standing around dancing with glow sticks,” he responded as he looked into the crowd for his friends.
He put down the ice chest he was carrying and called again. A few minutes later we’d found his friends thanks to L’s glow sticks.
I greeted M (the mutual contact). It was no surprise to see him as he was the one who initially informed me about the show. Ojitos introduced me to the rest of the small group.
L, a pretty girl with curly hair, munched on some of the chips and hummus we brought and turned to me, “you look familiar.”
“That’s what I told her when we first met,” Ojitos said.
“Yeah, but it was a pick up line,” retorted M.
“No, it wasn’t,” Ojitos contested. “She really did look familiar.”
I looked familiar to L for the same reason I looked familiar to Ojitos, we all went to the same school. Small world.
I can’t tell you what Los Lobos played. I actually didn’t pay much attention to the show. From where we were seated south of the pier, I couldn’t see the band and the sound quality was less than stellar. I didn’t mind. I had good company.