Roadtrip to Compton

The day started innocently enough. As I was driving to work I heard a commercial for the monster truck races this weekend. A few minutes later, the children’s father called and said it would be fun for the boys and could I go buy the tickets. Easy enough. I got to work and googled the nearest location to buy the them. It was 2 miles from work in an area I’m unfamiliar with because I go the opposite direction every day.

At lunch time I followed the directions which led me to freaking East LA- Compton, if you will. Graffiti, bars on all the doors and window, stores with chains and signs in a language I didn’t understand, people all over the street corners and I’m pretty sure I saw someone sitting on a cement block smoking a crack pipe- I could give better confirmation if I knew for sure I had seen an actual crack pipe before…. Anyway.

I ended up at an old, broke ass auto parts store and walk in- in my cute sweater vest and skirt, heels and giant purse-bag in the crook of my elbow. I was greeted by a nice man with gold teeth who had tattoos across his knuckles.

“Hey Lady, you lost?”

Um. Nooo. I don’t think so anyway… Then it happened. As soon as the words came out of my mouth I felt like everything went into to slow motion and I had an out of body experience.

“I’d like to buy tickets to the monster truck races.”

I’d almost whispered the request like I was looking to score some rock or something… Seriously? Did those words actually come out of my mouth? And did they really come out of my mouth here- in Austin-Compton? Who am I? Where am I? I like to tell people that because I was born in Detroit, I am totally a city girl. I’m waaaay more street than you think I am. All of a sudden… not so much.

The man said something in Spanish to a few guys behind him and they all laughed at (I’m assuming) me, then he proceeded to tell me they only accepted cash for those, NOT the debit card I was thrusting at him in hopes of hurrying this exchange along. He pointed outside and told me I could go across the store to the gas station.

Awesome. Crack pipe city. So I went across the street to the dirty gas station and stepped across a girl who sat straight legged near the door screaming into her cell phone and chain smoking. This time I was greeted by the man who was behind glass.

“Hey lady, you lost?”

WTF? Do I look lost? I didn’t bother answering, I was making a frantic sweep of the store for the ATM- I wasn’t going to ask him either. As I headed to the back of the store someone asked if I needed anything. I wish now I would have answered with something to make all of us more comfortable… Something like, “Yes, I need a shiv and a forty. And do you know where I could get a good safety pin tattoo? Cause I am totally about to buy tickets to the fucking Monster Truck Races…”

I didn’t. I got my cash and left as quickly as possible. I went back to the auto parts store where I noticed a few men watching me through the windows. I’m sure they were just making sure I got back safely….

My cashier took my cash and handed me the tickets.

“You have fun at the trucks, Lady!” More laughter from his friends.

I hightailed it out of there and got back to work, tickets in hand. Monster truck tickets. Score! While I won’t be attending, I can only imagine the kind of fun to be had. My boys are beside themselves. They are 7 and 4 and the thought of mud and motors and racing and sweet jumps almost makes them pee with glee.

I just hope they appreciate the adventure Mommy got to go on to procure them for them…