On a cloudy Sunday afternoon in Los Angeles’ Arts District, a man in a camouflage tee with the sleeves rolled up twice, neutral taupe colored pants, and a black backpack is walking briskly down 2nd Street towards the cross street, San Pedro. I walk towards him from the opposite direction and his face looks familiar.
As our distance starts to close, I keep thinking, “Is that him? It must be. Right?” I squint to zoom in on any distinctive features that will identify him, but not so intently as to give off the impression that I am a complete creep. Hesitantly, I call out, “Are you, Misha?” He grins and takes claim to the name. I begin edging towards the direction of my car as I explain how I’d forgotten my wallet in the car. He feels bad for having me go back to retrieve it and graciously offers to spot me. Not wanting to waste anymore time, I reluctantly agree and vow to Venmo him once we settle in. In an effort to ease my embarrassment, he tells me not to sweat as this happens to him more often than not too. We make our way to the wafting fragrance of roasted coffee beans and I’m realizing that this chance encounter prior to the official meeting, coupled with his generosity and empathy may, in a sense, be the perfect, albeit embarrassing, icebreaker that allows us to skip the standard slightly awkward introduction. He pays for our coffees inside and we head to the patio area where we settle into cold metal chairs at a table on the far right side of the cafe. As we patiently wait for our beverages to brew, we dive into topics of SadGirl, his musical upbringing, as well