Took a trip to Irvine. Picked up Steven and followed a circuitous route to Henry’s house—the foothill suburbs, the Natural History Museum, the Mission—and made our way south to Altadena, K-pop blasting. We arrived to see the blinds drawn, the parlor dark, the air filled with voices of white girls streaming from the teleconference party that Dennis was holding. After a long while outside their door we saw Alex emerge with a giant tray of four dozen eggs.
We climbed back into the car and drove to the student condos at UC Irvine where Alex gave the eggs to her cousin. She recommended a chinese noodle place in a shopping mall nearby and we went there and ordered and watched the chinese deliverymen shuffle in and out and listened to Alex make the case that the nose of a girl we saw was surgically altered. The shop had nothing vegetarian on offer so we drove to another plaza to pick up some pad thai and to get boba and bread from a chinese bakery.
We took the food to a park nearby, Mason Park, a large surreal countyrun thing with a lake and rolling green hills. A guard demanded five dollars when we entered. Canada geese roamed the lawn by the picnic table where we ate. The local model-yachting club had sent their vessels out on the lake and we watched the fleet sail back and forth in the wind as middle-aged men on the distant shore followed them with their remotes. White and asian and latino families sat in the shade—some with tents, some with mounted speakers, some with miniature children’s electric cars or radio-controlled vehicles the size of small dogs.