Postcard from L.A. - No. 2

A homeless man lies in the middle of the street on Cesar Chavez Avenue in downtown LA.  A doorman from one of the apartment buildings kneels over him.  Two police cars arrive.  The officers position their cars to block some but not all of the traffic, then get out and stroll slowly over.  More slowly than you might think right, with a man down in the middle of the road.  Two fire trucks arrive, including an enormous ladder truck, for no apparent reason – an impressive display of both firepower and bureaucracy.  The firemen get out and walk around, waiting for the paramedics, who finally arrive and start doing things.  I see this unfold on my morning run, doing my slow three miles, jogging in place at the lights.  It seems the right thing to keep running, rather than stopping to stare.  The road rises and I plod up the long hill, nearly to the top, before turning around.  By the time I get back to where the man was, all that’s left is one police car.  It makes a u-turn in the street and drives off.  It’s seven in the morning in LA.  The traffic flows easily on Cesar Chavez Avenue, as if nothing had happened at all.