The City of Angels or Devils ?

 

Los Angeles (San Pedro) - October 5 2025

We arrived on time 7 am and I was overjoyed with the prospect of visiting the underbelly of the Los Angeles shoreline. Not! In my 20’s I lived in Southern California, I’d tell you how far from San Pedro in miles, but I have no idea. Now ask me how far something is from where I lived and I can tell you how long it takes to get there, but miles are a mystery. There used to be a tourist wharf area painted to reflect a New England fishing village, named Ports ‘O Call. It was the only reason I think I have ever been to San Pedro. Tasty overpriced sea food and gewgaws.

Since Ports ‘O Call was leveled to make a better tourist area in 2000, not even nostalgia was a draw to me. There wasn’t enough time to rent a car and drive to my old high school, visit a friend and make it back before the ship’s 2 pm departure. In days of yore, when I knew the freeways and was used to the traffic I might have chanced it, but the threat of wearing the same clothes for 2 days and flying to Cabo San Lucas to re-board the ship was not worth the risk.

To add to my self inflicted misery, today we pick up passengers for the rest of the cruise. Up until not the ship has been comfortable. Built to hold four thousand, but only 1700 boarded in Seattle and 700 in San Francisco. No lines, elevator banks clear. Seeing familiar faces. Well, today, we add 1700 more. Here come the lines and the big city attitudes.

A slow start of the day, sipped coffee on the veranda with a nice view of a gray battleship to my left and mountains of sheer walls of shipping containers to my right. Oh and right in front? An immense parking lot. Starbucks's instant exhausted for the day, a shower and some attire and off to breakfast.

I was hoping to find a decent croissant to wash the memory of that awful excuse for a classic one a day or two. Seems there are a myriad of Mexican bakery’s (bakeries?) near enough to walk to, but the closest one that sounds like what I am looking for is miles afar from here. I suppose the ship’s breakfast will add enough fuel for the 16 to 20 mile bike ride I hope to get in today. Mr. Google says there is a bike rental that opens at 9 am less that a mile away. Probably a mile and a half if you add in the convoluted routes these cruise ships love. As I said before I feel like a rat in a maze and expect cheese at the end of the maze.

The first step once out of the roped corridors was orientation. The ship always appears to be facing a different direction than I expect. Once that is settled, then how do I get away from the ship to actual pavement. Pavement under my soles and north and south figured out (even though it feels backwards) I’ll should get to the bike rental location by 9:40.

The walk was pleasant. Past fisherman’s memorial to those lost hunting tuna. The memorial to Merchant Marine losses. Each ship lost and the names of the lost crew members chiseled into black marble. I noticed many of the ships were named “The ALCOA - something”. Quite a number of ALCOA’s in a short span of time. No dates, so I have to assume they were lost in the Forty’s and they were Liberty ships taking material to England and Europe to sustain the war effort. So many ships and so many men’s names in the black mirror.

Arriving at the bike rental location and I find it closed tighter than a vegan’s jaws at an all you can eat Texas BBQ. I thought they opened at 9am ? I fidgeted and paced for a few minutes, Their phone number was written on the sign so I called. The nice lady’s recorded voice told me to check their website for hours of operation. Okay Google Maps can be out of date. The website told me that from late September until December the hours were 10 am on. Closing time was of no consequence to me, since I needed to be back aboard the ‘Joy’ by 1:30 anyway. Wait, pace, wait, tap toes. 10 am comes and goes. 1015 and either a bum or the proprietor come by, it’s difficult to decode sometimes. The bum pulls out a ring of keys and unlocks the door to the bike shack. Probably has his meth locked inside. Maybe not. He leaves the door open and begins spraying and cleaning to a high luster bike helmets. I am just a piece of spin drift as far as he is concerned. 1030 comes. I’ve had enough being invisible. So I slowly approach so as to now ruin his helmet polishing revelry. Timidly “Uh, what time do you intend on opening?”. ‘Eleven’. I had an unsaid - ‘you have got to be shitting me and walked away.’

I walked the appropriate time away from the metal box and then came back at 10:58. Still more indifference and helmet polishing. I’m beginning to think he is getting some perverse sexual gratification rubbing those hard round head covers. The proper thing to do is avert my eyes and let him finish, but I have a time limit and miles to cover.

He looks up and recognizes me as a sentient being and puts the helmet down and looks a question at me. I interpret it to mean, “Yes?”

‘I’d like to rent a bike’

“Regular or e-bike”

‘Probably and e-bike, for a couple hours’

“You need to leave me a piece of identification. We’ll charge you the rate when you return.”

I was going biking today not driving and left my driver’s license back in the ship’s safe. I have to nearly force my hand to unzip the correct pocket and carefully remove my Passport. I can’t believe I’m about to leave my passport with this helmet polishing pervert. But I do place it on the counter along with my credit card. He is now a frozen statue, he doesn’t make a move to pick up and of the proffered bank and government information.

“I’ll need some I.D.”

‘There is my passport’

“No I mean some good I.D.”

‘Huh?’

“You know. Like a driver’s license”

‘The passport is kind of the ultimate I.D.’

“It has to be something from a state”

Shit, and I left my library card on the ship too. I guess I can get back to the ship get the approved document and return and still have time to get a ride in, if I don’t dawdle.

‘OK, what’s the best route to get to Pacific Palisades? (8 miles away. Round trip I can do in 90 minutes)’

“Oh. Our bikes are only for use in the area. That is too far away”.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What’s with him and this company? I surrendered. Waved my pink panties and gave up.

Turning around I see the Free Town Bus pull up across the street. Nimble as a cat I pounce on it and find 1/3 of a seat still vacant. The other 2/3 of the seat are occupied by a Mexican Sumo wrestler. Perhaps he wasn’t a sumo wrestler, but if he went to Japan, he would be World Champion in no time. I glanced at the seat behind me to see if an actual human was there. No such luck, his twin was ensconced there.

The bus took us through a downtown area, that was Sunday morning dead. Made a couple turns and stopped in front of a large shipping warehouse that has been converted to an artisan’s mall. It was full of quite a few great items that would look great on my bookshelf collecting dust for me. I reluctantly left them behind

Back outside to meet the bus for the next stop, the Aquarium. I was more in the mood for fish on my plate than swimming in a tank.

Next stop, Waterfront. Now I’ll see what replaced Ports ‘O Call. We drove for a few minutes and were back at my starting location, blue metal bike shed and all. I stand up and my fucking plastic belt buckle explodes. (NO COMMENTS!)

It’s barely 12:30!

Back on the ship I find that the Excursions desk is open at the same time as I am there. I want to get a bus ride up to a city in Guatemala and the one I want is sold out. A woman said to get to the desk and ask to be put on the waiting list. New people onboard, the line snakes around almost eats itself. After a longer wait than I would have preferred, I did pass the time visiting with the couple behind me, and promptly forgot their story. An unattractive but memorable woman is standing by a pillar slowly inching her way towards the line and like a slug approaching a freshly planted Basil plant she slips between myself and the couple behind me.

They are nice. I am not. “Excuse me! You need to be at the end of the line and not between this couple and me.”

‘ I was at the end of the line, but stepped out to talk to my son’

“You certainly weren’t here”

She wormed her way in after the couple behind me.

I know when she came in, because she was unattractive enough for me to notice when she her hubby and progeny walked in from the elevator bank. I hate cheaters. Unless it’s me. That is a totally different matter.

Back at the room, some messing around and texting home, while there is cell service. The ship pulled away from the pier and dinner is now in my tummy. (Remember no comments!)