My friend from the desert came to visit this weekend. He is autistic.
He makes a trip once a month to visit, which is nice.
When he visits, he plans our activities very carefully, and then
keeps a running log as we go throughout the day.
On the schedule for this weekend, he wanted to see the Paul Simon
exhibit at the Skirball Cultural Center. The schedule was (in simple
terms): Lunch, Skirball, Krispy Kreme, and Santa Monica.
Lunch was at a nice Mexican restaurant about three blocks from where
I live. He knew about it. I had never even noticed it. Great food (I
had the poblano quesadilla). He ordered something that was covered in
cilantro, to which I am allergic. We each paid separately (it's too
hard for him to keep track of who owes who what), and he wrote down
in his log book the time we left the restaurant and how long it took.
We drove to the Skirball. He logged the arrival time. We each paid
for our tickets (separately, of course). Paul Simon donated many of
his personal artifacts to the museum for the exhibit. Old guitars,
pictures of him with Art Garfunkel, lots of notebooks with lyrics,
and a few written pieces about his history with Art and later as a
solo artist. All good stuff. I was surprised to learn that The Sound
of Silence was actually about the assassination of John F. Kennedy. I
had no idea.
The Skirball also had a Holocaust Memorial. It was too much for my
friend, so he waited while I went through it. Difficult. Dark. Sad.
We left after noting the time, then went to Krispy Kreme. After a
brief exchange about getting a cup of ice water (for some reason they
would only dispense hot water into ice, which was unacceptable to my
friend), we settled on two bottles of milk and several donuts. I had
the regular glazed (which is heavenly, of course) and an apple
fritter. I related that the donut shop on The Simpsons is called
"Lard Lad" and my friend thought that was funny.
We noted the time, and he determined with some anxiety that Santa
Monica would not work into the schedule. Something about the amount
of energy required to walk the boardwalk. He decided to change the
schedule (I was surprised) and drive up the coast, then into the
valley to Fry's Electronics, where I could shop for another external
drive. He calculated the approximate time required, and it seemed to
work.
We enjoyed the cool, coastal air. "Very humid," he said, but he's
from the desert, so it likely felt more humid to him than it did to
me.
Finally we arrived at Fry's, and he noted the time. This particular
store is decorated in the fashion of Alice in Wonderland. A grand
fountain greeted us, with Alice bowing toward us. There were giant
playing cards suspended from the ceiling, statues of the rabbit, the
Mad Hatter, the angry queen, and a very tall mushroom.
We found the external drives, one that was relatively inexpensive,
then browsed around nerd heaven.
We left for my home, and he dropped me off, thanking me as he noted
the time in his notebook. He calculated how many days it would be
before his sleep cycle aligned properly to a weekend visit again.
Roughly another month, as usual. I told him I looked forward to our
next meeting and to let me know as he was planning.
