Here’s a piece of writing I submitted for a creative writing course at the City Lit. It was received quite well, and one of the other students said it was the most accurate description of Santa Monica that she’d ever read. Others liked the dialogue. Me? I still chuckle over the misunderstanding about drive-in movies!
To a young man in his thirties, Santa Monica was heaven on earth. The huge sky, the blue Pacific, the breeze, the roller skaters, the jugglers. Everything, in fact, somehow on a larger than normal scale. Twilight came and went in a matter of minutes, and as the evening came, the sea and the skaters disappeared, and the shops and cafés seemed to suddenly come alive, the streets filled with people strolling and laughing. This was as near to paradise as I could imagine.
And the girls. Well-tanned, well-turned out and, well, beautiful. And one of them happened to be a friend of my cousin, with whom I was staying.
"I've invited Cindie over for dinner. She wants to meet you."
"Really? Why?"
"She’s never met anyone who’s been to a castle before, and she loves English accents."
The evening came, the food was good, and Cindie and I seemed to be getting on really well. I thought I'd pluck up the courage to ask her out, and maybe experience some original Americana at the same time.
"Cindie, I was wondering if you'd like to go to a drive-in movie with me."
Her face and demeanour changed instantly. For the worse.
"I'm not that kind of girl" she hissed, as she stormed out of the room.
I looked at my cousin.
"What was that all about?"
My cousin explained: "People don't go to drive-in movies to watch the movie."
"Ah."
Cindie returned to the dining room table.
"I think maybe there has been a misunderstanding", I ventured. "Could I take you for a coffee?"
"Look", she said. "I don't know where you're coming from."
I had no idea what my direction of travel had to do with anything, but I didn't want to risk upsetting her even further by asking.
"Erm, I'll be coming from here", I told her.
She looked at me as if I was an idiot, but then it seemed to dawn on her that, never having heard that expression till then, I had answered it literally. I think it was at that point that we both realized the truth of Oscar Wilde's observation that the English and the Americans have everything in common except language.
We saw each other a few times, and much as I loved her long blonde hair, brown eyes and white smile, I liked her intelligence and wit even more. And, perhaps surprisingly after such a rocky start to our relationship, we shared a similar sense of humour and laughed a lot.
It could have been a longer-term commitment. Should have been really. But deep down I think we were both worried about the difficulties of maintaining a relationship over a distance of thousands of miles.
And, of course, the language barrier.
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