Pillow (Store) Fight.

12 Aug

marimekko-back-lotI got into a fight. In a back alley. I was outnumbered, but I was armed. With my “sass mouth” as my Mom would call it.

But first, let me give you some history ’bout this alley n me.

I’ve spent the past year driving through the alley in my car. I know all the potholes and hobos. One time I got free Mexican food from one of my delivery runs, and instead of mowing it myself, I gave it to this hobo I had seen a bunch of times, huddled behind one of the dumpsters in this alley.

I approached him at a wide radius, “Hey — hello? Do you want some Mexican food?” I held up a large brown paper bag that was showing grease stains from the complimentary tortilla chips.

Hobo: “Do you have any change?”

Me: “…No. Just Mexican food. Do you want it?” He waved me over.

Hobo: “You don’t have like 2 bucks or something you could give me?”

Me: WHAAAA???? I have the worst luck with hungry, hungry hobos who put crack habits before nutrition. “Not today, buddy. Here you go.”

We made the handoff, and as much as he wanted that cash, he quickly dug into the quesadillas without giving me a second thought. OH WELL. It’s not like I’m gonna stand there and be all, “Now name one thing you’re grateful for today! You can say QUESADILLAS if you want!” — I would like to leave with my face in tact.

The alley is also where I briefly park when I’m picking up delivery orders at Xian – the Chinese place. There was once a fish head lying eye-up on the asphalt, but it just seems natural behind a Chinese restaurant. Even in swanky Beverly Hills.

The parking situation is always dicey. Fancy cars are parked in like sardines, and Hummers overwhelm what could have been two spots. Often, I park along a red curb that would guarantee me a sweet ticket if anyone saw me. I’m in and out so fast, it usually doesn’t matter.

On this particular evening, I was driving to Xian for my first delivery of the night. Xian is nestled beside an adorable shop called Marimekko. They create their own fabrics and patterns for clothing and housewares, and have been referred to as “that f****** pillow store” by the neighborhood bartenders.

I love their designs. They look so happy! I even pulled remnant fabric out of their trash, washed it — come on, and sewed a pillow case out of it.

A pants-xample:1_marimekkoKnowing it was after 6pm – and beyond retail closing time, I figured everyone in the back lot were either restaurant workers, valet, or delivery people. There were no extra spaces.

I waited a hot minute before a man walked out to his Porsche and pulled out of a spot. He had been double parked, but I figured — what the heck. I’m in and out in less than 10 minutes! I took his place and threw my company “Sorry for the inconvenience! Thank you for your understanding! I’m a delivery person!” sign on my dash. We do this all over town.

Will Arnett and one of his kids, walked by with some Chinese take-out. We smiled and did the LA “Who are you” eyes. HA! He sure came up empty on that one!

Inside Xian, I spoke with my boss on the phone and re-checked the order to make sure everything was in the bag. In the midst of this conversation, the bartender says “You gotta move your car. That crazy lady’s outside.”

I immediately got off the phone with my boss, mid-order-checking, and said “Oh! Ok! Thank you!”

I didn’t know what lady I was going to find waiting for me, so I jogged outside with a bubbly, killemwithkindness “Hiiiiii!!!!!! I’m so sor—” That’s all I was able to get out. She was already mentally disturbed about me.

She was a rail-thin, tiny, red-haired lady, with mean age lines all over her face. She’s that kind of person that maybe should drink a little of the Beverly Hills Kool-Aid. (– *It’s Botox.) She was standing with a mid-20s gay man, who was pacing around the parking lot. Both worked at Marimekko, which I was about to find out.

Imagine the shrillest, most horrible voice in the world, shaking with rage.

Her: “HHHHHHHOW COULD YOU ——- DOOOOO SOMETHING LIKE THIS!!! —– IT’S —– IT’SSSSS JUST NOT NICE.” I felt like a very large Kindergartener.

Me: “I’m so sorry—” I kept repeating because I’m from Pennsylvania where we apologize and thank people too much, while trying to figure out the situation.

At this point, the lady circled around the car, and – I ASSUME TURNED BACK INTO A BAT AND FLEW AWAY – because I never saw her again, leaving the rest up to Angry Entitled Gay Employee. I don’t wanna say that he’s gay, because I don’t want this to be that kind of thing, but he was so super gay. And real mad.

AEGE: “– THIS IS ABSOLUTELY INAPPROPRIATE. YOU PEOPLE SHOULD NOT PARK HERE. UNACCEPTABLE. THIS IS OUR PROPERTY.” He waved his hands over the “Marimekko Parking” sign and glided around to showcase four open spots that were not there earlier. “YOU COULD HAVE PARKED HERE, WHERE YOU WOULDN’T BLOCK ANYONE!”

Me: “Those spots weren’t there when I parked. Obviously, I —” What am I, an idiot?


Lemme just take this time to tell you how impossible it is to “park on the street or somewhere else” at dinner time on restaurant row in Beverly Hills, where street parking is crazy expensive — IF the valet people haven’t blocked off the entire street for their own use (read: charging people to park their cars where they could totally park it, themselves.)

I was starting to get hot. I tried to be nice, buddy. Nobody puts Baby in a corner.

He stalked off to his car, and I walked back to mine with a wave and said “YEP. THANKS FOR THE LECTURE” and got in.

Immediately AEGE whipped around and came walking toward me. My mind was racing. Are we gonna fight?? Like, with fists?? ——- I would so WIN! And not because he’s gay. BECAUSE I TAKE BOXING CLASSES, BITCH.

I lowered my window. Let’s do this.


And with that, I hit maximum capacity.

My mind was a cool, babbling brook.

My eyes, glistening hazel marbles.

My body, at peace with all that surrounded me.

My mouth?

FUCK YOU.” To his face.


I waited to see what would happen.

He gave up and got in his car.


I reparked my car, got out, and thought about weaving through the next row of parked cars, to sneak back into the restaurant, unseen.

But no. I wanted him to see that this Beeyatch was not afraid. I slammed the door of my car, hardly disturbing the months of dirt upon it, and stomped right past his car window. I wanted him to get a greaaaaaat, big ole look at my ass.

So he can kiss it.



Flower pants


12 Responses to “Pillow (Store) Fight.”

  1. jlbcoolguy August 12, 2013 at 3:22 PM #

    You totally had me LOLing at work! As a former SoCal gay, I know how bitchy we queens can get. And I say, well played gurl, well played. Sometimes, you just need to say F* you. It’s justified. You didn’t run over his dog as you were parking your car, did you? Ok, cause then he’d have the right to be miffed. Next time he’ll think twice about it. Use that sass mouth.

    • Lauren Bair September 16, 2013 at 10:49 PM #

      OMG. Your comment totally made my day ;) So glad to hear you agree. Although I’m guessing this is the main reason why you left this place… Hahahaha. Thanks so much for reading!!

  2. tinykitchenstories August 13, 2013 at 1:05 PM #

    Next time you better pop that b*tch. But seriously–that was some gumption! (Do you say “gumption” in Pennsylvania? It sounds like you would. No stereotyping or generalization here, of course…) He can take his flowery party pants and go home. Neener.

    • Lauren Bair September 16, 2013 at 10:47 PM #

      Ahahahaha. I think I need a gun. Just to, y’know — shoot it into the air like I’m celebrating a Mexican holiday.

  3. Monica August 13, 2013 at 4:42 PM #

    Ha! You are too funny. And while you may be an apologizing PA girl at heart, you did live in Manhattan so are undoubtedly well-equipped to get into screaming matches with strangers.

    • Lauren Bair September 16, 2013 at 10:47 PM #

      This is totally true! This West Coast loosy-goosy whatever-goes attitude hasn’t changed me. I still got my (blunt) edge ;)

  4. Paola Parsons August 23, 2013 at 7:23 PM #

    Hi Lauren, I have a very random but urgent question for you regarding a possible role in my husbands short film (which shoots tomorrow!). If you’re available/interested, please give me a holler! Paolaparsons@gmail.com

    So random!!! But would love to chat with you!

  5. Jessica August 30, 2013 at 3:05 PM #

    I’m going to be in LA Oct 24-27th. Text me so we can meet up!! 407 460 2358. I text your old number, I think.

    • Lauren Bair September 16, 2013 at 10:42 PM #

      Yes Jessica!! I texted you. If you need me to text you my new number again, let me know ;) See you soon!

  6. joeyhl August 31, 2013 at 8:35 AM #

    “BECAUSE I TAKE BOXING CLASSES, BITCH.” I love you even more. :)

    • Lauren Bair September 16, 2013 at 10:42 PM #

      Grrrrl! You know we could knock a few down if we had to! XOXO

Talk to me, Baby.

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