Just Another Day In L.A...

We were driving to the beach yesterday, to meet some friends, when we hit a roadblock. La Brea had been shut down completely, and beyond the cones and flashing police lights we could see ambulances, fire engines and hooks and ladders, with their ladders stretched to the sky. At first we thought it was a street carnival, because we could see a giant bouncer, the biggest bouncer we had ever seen.

Then we realized, no, that is not a bouncer, that is to catch people leaping from a burning building. We joined the cars on the detour, looping through a tree-lined L.A. neighborhood full of pretty duplexes. There were crowds, and a carnival atmosphere. People with cameras, people walking their dogs, everyone heading toward La Brea. But there was no smoke. We turned a corner and caught another glimpse of the action--the flashing fire-trucks, the ambulances, and the giant, inflatable jumper. It must be a movie, we thought. This is L.A. where movie events always get confused for real ones.

We looked up, and there, poised on a giant, white neon cross on top of a building with a church beneath, was a naked man, holding part of the cross to balance himself, and looking out over the city. In front of him were a half dozen firemen in full gear, hanging off the ladder, talking to him, reaching out to him, gesturing to him. Oh, we realized. He's a jumper.

We craned our necks, looking at his naked buttocks, white in the early morning sunlight, and then we drove on to our day of the beach. Later, I heard he had still been up there on the cross naked at 1. The road was still closed at 3:30 when we came back from the beach. I don't know how he came down.