My last class

I figured it was only fitting that I write about my last class at USC before I actually leave Los Angeles. I also hinted at and promised to write about this historic occasion in an earlier post. Now it's all built up and everything...

My last class happened to be my feature writing class. We decided to convene at Mr. Pizza on Fairfax, across from Canter's, after an unsuccessful attempt by Roozy to pitch the La Brea Tarpits as the most ideal location to discuss the goings on of cross-dresssing priests, dying mothers, astronautical engineer loser fathers, CIA operatives in Iran, demon killing agents, Libertarians and the like. Man, if only we could combine these elements we would have a killer script. Sadly, this idea was vetoed for a reason which was either unclear or I have forgotten (or more likely, both). So, Mr. Pizza it was.

I arrived early, an extremely unusual occurrence. I was closer to the West side of town, again for a reason I have already forgotten -- do you see a pattern here? So, I waited in my car for a few moments savoring the air conditioning and NPR and avoiding putting more money in the meter -- though again, if I was more with it, I would've realized the meter was about to end in 15 minutes anyway and thus would still have those 2 quarters I wasted and could have put to much better use cleaning my clothes. I digress.

I then got out of my car and wandered up the block to a very cool store I had never been in called Family. I perused the eclectic wares of comics, DVDs, books, music, and original art. I bought the new Optic Nerve (#11) that had come out a week ago...that was a nice surprise to see it in the store.

When it hit 6:00 I walked down the block to Mr. Pizza. I turned into the narrow doorway, where the place looked empty save for a few random workers.

Okay, now I am resuming this post days later in Omaha. I will try to pick it up where I left off.

So, I walk into the dark, dank restaurant that is more like a dive bar than a restaurant. As I entered, the single beam of light from the outside illuminated a few of my classmates in the last booth. I sat down and confirmed that this restaurant not only met my low expectations, but exceeded them. I was confused as to why we were having our last class here. Others joined and looked equally confused. Our teacher Bonnie arrived and was grossed out and wanted to leave. Due mostly to apathy, time, and a lack of communication, we stayed.

We discussed writing, films, and careers, and I tried to make out the face of who was speaking. You could try to angle yourself in a position to use the daylight to your advantage, but the sun was quickly fading. I gave up squinting after my eyes hurt from the strain. We asked the waitress who was in some sort of tuxedo if she could possibly turn the light on that was on the ceiling not too far from us. "Oh, that went out a few days ago," she replied with a shrug. Guess they're not into changing light bulbs at Mr. Pizza. The pizzas came and we used the light from our cell phones to discern the toppings. I gave up trying to see what I was eating and just went with it. It involved more of an element of surprise, which can be fun, I guess. A classmate finally did pull out a lighter and lit the two candles at our table, providing a bit of a glow.

We were also really smashed into this booth. Sitting very close to people you don't know all that well can be awkward, but the night was already past anything that could be called awkward. We asked if they had any extra chairs. We should've known from the light bulb incident that this would only get us strange looks, as if we were asking for our pizzas to be made at the table right in front of us. For all we could see, they might have been. A few minutes later, they managed to pull out a couple of bar stools, taller than the table itself. So a few classmates held court over our darkened round table.

There were countless other strange things about this night, and many amazing comments made. However, I will decline to divulge any more because I am tired, my memory is failing, and for reasons of privacy and security. All in all it was a great and fitting ending to my time at USC.