Fort MacArthur "Battle of LA"

It was unusual. A UFO over Los Angeles. Civilians and National Guard-types manning the AA battery. Flak popping, bursting, lighting up the night sky. Somebody spotted something up there. Tensions were high -- the war in Europe fever-pitched. When the cordite cleared, smokey streets revealed several Los Angelinos dead--killed by falling flak. It was 1942.

Fast-foward to 2012, year of the dragon, Fort Mac, San Pedro, California. A friendly cruise along the coast and we found ourselves right in the mix. Apparently some folks dig donning old military uniforms and playing PFCs. Colonels too--full birds, and even a few WACs. Figured we'd say "hello," mingle with the reenactors, maybe even wax poetically about those old Browning machineguns. Yeah, no. "Thirty bucks," the faux fly-girl from the '40s said. She wasn't wearing brown shoes, but a blue dress with seargent stripes and glasses. Thick glasses. I asked about a veteran discount. A long beat. Her perfume smelled like a Catholic church--pungent, foriegn. And she looked at me like a penis was growing outa my forehead. Terse words were exchanged, the ticket takers got indignant. An obese man wearing an airborne uniform escorted us out. He was sweating profusely.

Nevertheless, we watched the attack from Pt. Fermin. Spotlights and mortars whizzing overhead. I left before it ended.