manish was an indian gentleman from amarillo texas who is married to a guatemalan lady.
picked him up in the rain and dark and cold of LAX
i did not want to get him and take him to the hampton inn in north hollywood for this reason: it was the first offer i received shortly after i had dropped off a dancer at jet blue. and typically i liked to decline a few rides to get a sense of how much uber is offering at that time.
also, sometimes you get lucky and do a short trip around LAX for $14 from a hotel to a rental car agency two miles away. these are $4 rides that get overpriced for some reason.
but it was rainy and at $29 it was a decent fare because miraculously at that point in the early evening, the estimated time to get out there was a little over an hour. so fine.
who wanted manish to wait in the rain anyway,? not me.
as soon as he got in, (no luggage, just a duffel bag and apologies), i could hear a young girl’s voice on his facetime. maybe 5 years-old?
sweetheart, i will call you right back. please let me talk with the taxi man, he said.
he clicked the button, paused, said hi and asked if i wouldn’t mind stopping at a liquor store before we got to the hotel. please and thank you.
i was in a fantastic mood because of the dancer and the previous rides, that i said, for you, amigo, anything.
he got back onto facetime.
and what did you have for dinner? he asked, after showing her the dark streets of westchester we glided down, shiny from the rain and streetlights
quesadillas and carne asada, she sang, and then ok daddy i love you and quickly hung up.
after manish and i talked for a while, i realized when he said ‘my hampton inn’ he didn’t mean the one i was driving him to, but the one he co-owned in armadilla
as soft-spoken and overly polite as he was, i quickly learned he loved rum (same.)
but back in the day, he would often find himself shamefully drunk and he needed to put it in check.
a few years ago, he was simply the manager of the hampton inn nestled right off a lonesome highway, not far from an oil field that kept the rooms booked. one night he was mighty buzzed but he wanted one more bottle to say goodnight to.
so he stumbled into a nearby liquor store and struck up a conversation with a man from china.
aren’t you the manager of the hotel?
yes. yes, manish said sheepishly, slightly embarrassed he might stink of dark bacardi.
my brother has been buying little hotels and motels in the states: best westerns, motel 6s, driftwoods, and fixing them up and turning a healthy profit on the room rate increases.
as it so happened, the hotel was about to go up for sale. when it did, the chinese man bought it and told manish he would make him a co-owner and partner if he managed the place. which he did. and as the profits began to flow, manish bought five acres with two nice houses on it. he planned to rent the other one.
but then he saw carla.
who had come in to apply for the housekeeping manager job.
carla, was recently divorced, and had a daughter.
manish, a hindu from calcutta, hired her and a month later proposed.
wait a second my man. i interrupted, raising my hand and stopping his flow.
A MONTH?
yes sir, anthony, he said.
was it awkward asking this newly-hired woman on a date?
im sorry anthony, but in my culture we do not date.
i thought about it and said ok, but did you two smooch or something before you proposed?
i do not know what smooch means, but i am certain i did not do it to her. we never touched. i proposed and she said yes.
manish, you devil! i cheered from the front seat.
the 405 was super clear. the possibility and then arrival of rain convinced angelenos to stay home. but it was finished for the night and the carpool lane was magic.
after the wedding, manish’s inlaws moved into the second house. a few years later he produced his own child with carla, a daughter.
and as the profits from the hotel continued to grow, he bought chickens and goats for the girls, and most recently two ponies.
i returned to clapping.
no no, anthony, he said. all of these things are quite affordable in amarillo.
but what do you know about horses? don’t you gotta pay a guy to take care of them?
carla’s father is a ranch hand. he’s an expert with horses. and he’s very grateful for the free house.
together we went into great detail about the operating expenses of his hotel. as we sped past the getty center he asked me what time LA liquor stores close.
i said, either midnight or two am, depending. and i asked him what time they close there and he said 8pm. we looked at my alpine car stereo that read 8:15pm.
have no fear manish. i will get you the booze you want if i have to raid my own liquor cabinet.
i have none, im a stoner, but it’s nice to imagine an old school globe on wheels which opens up to a fully stocked booty of booze.
or whatever this is, dumb AI:
he told me he doesn’t like to drink around his daughter and when i asked him if he knocked back a few on the plane, he said he didn’t want the older woman next to him to think he was going to lose his mind and attack her.
so he had no drinks on the plane.
!!!
i will have two drinks as i wait for my food to be delivered, then i will have a third as i eat it, he said staring out of the window, visualizing the rum being slowly poured into those feeble plastic hotel cups.
i quietly prayed that he brought his own tumbler in that curiously small duffel bag.
it killed me that i didnt know the valley very well, because i wanted to give him a postmates recommendation for his dinner.
instead, i told him about pijja palace in silver lake, the brainchild of a young indian guy who was combining italian foods with his moms favorites. so like, indian pizza or curry pasta. the tiktok kids were loving it.
we got in a rabbit hole about food as i transitioned to the 101 hollywood freeway and he said, now you wont forget about my liquor store will you, anthony?
manish! you need to trust me the same way you trust those ponies with your sweet angels. in a perfect world, i would be a hotel front desk manager because customer service is my middle name, i told him
tony joaquin customer service bukowski
and we laughed. but i said, seriously i know the coolest liquor store of all and its right near your hotel
im so sorry anthony, but i do not require the coolest, best, or fanciest los angeles liquor store. i would be very happy with the closest one en route.
no problemo, i said, but then immediately worried that if he didn’t know a little spanish, he may have taken it the wrong way.
so i asked, why he was out here? and he said the chinese partner wanted him to meet his brother, because they want to buy more hotels and really, truly partner with him and grow the little empire.
but anthony, he said, i do not want any more.
i love my life. we work. we come home. theres our family.
satisfaction is not impossible to attain if you only concern yourself with having a good meal on your table every night and stop striving for more more more.
i completely agree with you manish, i told him, and noticed how he watched a small liquor store come and go and i did not turn in.
he became quiet.
and a minute later, a long minute, i watched his face in the rear view as we approached Circus Liquors,
coolest liquor store in all of los angeles thanks to its giant neon clown
and he heard my blinker’s click click click click click click