So, there I was this afternoon heading back from a morning-long raid on the garment district, where I had to pick up more yellow snowballs, pink spangles and bright turquoise sateen lining for the fantabulous cape I'm making my girly girl four-year-old niece for Christmas. I take the back route from downtown to the 24-hour drug dealer laundromat because this time of day on a Saturday, it's a relatively unobstructed straight shot down Pico. (For those who don't sew, cloth must be laundered before it can be stitched, even snowballs.) Lo, what do I see as I get closer? An unfamiliar green building with a big sign proclaiming SUSHI. Right next to the pawn shop and on the corner where the day laborers and hookers hang out (depending on time of day), there is SUSHI. One block from the 24-hour drug dealer laundromat, SUSHI!!
Cut across a lane of traffic, park behind the taco truck, shove my way through the gaggle of day laborers, step around the reeking bum next to the doorway, and I am ordering sushi from a nice lady who says they opened up last month. It's cute inside. Jazz playing. Patio out back behind a wall of horsehair.
It was pedestrian sushi, to be honest, but still. SUSHI! Four minutes from my house! With free parking! We have sushi on this side of town now! I'll still have to haul over the the hipster side of town for the good stuff, but in a pinch I can go to this place.
The ordeal of laundry just got a little bit less painful.
