Another hectic day of touring rental properties. We stopped for lunch at a Mexican spot, and our timing was perfect. Turned out Mexico was playing Saudi Arabia in the World Cup, and cheers and whistles filled the bar. They scored two goals while I ate a chimichanga. Everyone was so happy, and I’m glad we didn’t stick around long enough to find out Mexico wouldn’t make it to the knockout round and their coach was fired.
As we pulled up to our ninth small tan house of the day, “American Woman” rocked the block, emanating from someone’s backyard. It was a fine soundtrack as we punched in the entry code and let ourselves inside a freshly painted home with chipper decals on the walls from an invisible real estate agent. Welcome home! A kitchen you’ll love! From the balcony, we saw the source of American Woman: a chunky old man in a bathing suit climbed out of his tiny backyard swimming pool and poured himself a big drink at his tiny tiki bar. I want to be his neighbor.
(I never knew The Guess Who were Canadian; the lyrics—American woman, stay away from me—can be interpreted many ways.)
At night, I enjoyed driving along smooth parkways to a fast food joint that served spicy Korean pork in a cup. This place feels like the future, and I tried to capture the gestalt with a blurry photo of my screens reflected against the sprawl. This is a photographic style I’d like to improve upon.
