I'm building Gundams in America

Chapter 391 Time for dinner again, brothers (Seeking monthly votes)

The passenger plane landed smoothly on the airport runway. A man in a white robe stepped out of the cabin, feeling the temperature, which was much warmer than in Seattle, and smiled slightly.

Los Angeles, also known as the "City of Angels," is the largest city on the West Coast of the United States and the second largest city in the United States after New York.

Located in the southwestern United States, the climate here is Mediterranean, with winter lows of only around 10 degrees Celsius and summer highs of around 20 degrees Celsius, making it a very pleasant place to live.

The city of Los Angeles has a population of approximately 387 million, while the greater Los Angeles metropolitan area has a population of 1270 million.

In comparison, the Seattle city proper has a population of only 82, while the Seattle metropolitan area has a population of over 400 million.

It can be said that the population of the entire Los Angeles metropolitan area is more than three times that of Seattle.

For this reason, Los Angeles can be described as a paradise for the homeless, with more than 70,000 homeless people in the official sense, while Seattle has only more than 12,000 homeless people in the entire city.

As soon as Wayne stepped out of the airport, he saw two homeless people folded up on the roadside and syringes on the ground, and a comforting smile appeared on his face, as if he were coming home.

This is truly a place teeming with life and where all things flourish.

I immediately hailed a taxi and headed to SkidRow in the eastern part of downtown Los Angeles.

The literal meaning of SkidRow in American English is a dilapidated old street where homeless people gather, a poor street, the homeless stronghold of the East Side of downtown Los Angeles, and the proper noun SkidRow.

This is the area with the highest density of homeless tents in the entire United States.

"Hey sir, are you really going to the Poor Street? That's not a place for someone like you—"

The taxi driver, an Indian man, sized up Wayne's clothes and spoke in heavily accented English, nodding and gesturing.

"If this is your first time in Los Angeles and you're looking for some fun, I recommend the Figueroa Alley in South Los Angeles, also known as Blade Street. Wow, it's four miles long and full of pretty girls who aren't wearing much clothing."

A lewd smile appeared in the Indian driver's eyes as he continued, "You know, what's most famous about that place is the abundance of underage girls who are always walking around, and the prices are very cheap, only 25 to 40 US dollars for one time —"

The so-called Figueroa Corridor is similar to Aurora Avenue in Seattle, both being streets lined with prostitution rings.

The passenger in front of me was wearing a white robe and looked like one of those damn leftist tourists, perfect for introducing to those local bullies to rip them off, and then I could make a commission.

Wayne remained calm and said, "No, Rajev, just take me to the poor streets."

Upon hearing Wayne call his name, the Indian taxi driver quickly glanced at his taxi identification badge bearing the name "Vijay," and shuddered. Looking at the black-haired, black-eyed man in the rearview mirror, he exclaimed, "Sir, you—you know me? Shiva, you're with ICE!?"

He went through great lengths to use Vijay's false identity to come to America to work illegally.

Aside from the smugglers, nobody in Los Angeles knew his real name. The fact that this person suddenly revealed the truth meant there was only one possibility: the immigration authorities were preparing to take action against him!

Thinking of this, tears welled up in the driver Rajev's eyes. He cried as he drove, "Sir, please, I owe the landowner a lot of money. That gentleman is of a high caste. I must earn money to pay off the debt as soon as possible, otherwise they will rape my mother and my sister. Please don't deport me—"

In India, for the poor of lower castes, smuggling themselves into the United States is like entering paradise.

However, this smuggling route is not only extremely dangerous and difficult, but it also often requires the whole family to borrow money.

As a result, Rajev's family owed a lot of high-interest loans to local high-caste landowners.

He drove himself crazy in Los Angeles to pay off his family's debts.

If he really can't pay back the money, his family will definitely go to hell. Not only his mother and sister, but even his father and brother will be gang-raped to death.

Wayne said calmly, "Nobody's going to deport you, Rajeev. Now, drive carefully."

With Wayne's assurance, the taxi driver's trembling subsided, and he dared not take a detour again, speeding away with Wayne.

As they approached the location of the poor street, they crossed an overpass and immediately saw a thriving scene.

Under the overgrown bridge, numerous tents and damaged vehicles formed a place resembling a village.

The place reeked of a foul mixture of human excrement and various enhancers, and homeless people wandered around it.

Sensing Wayne's gaze, Rajeev quickly said, "Sir, we've entered the outskirts of Slums, a gathering place for the homeless. The further we go in, the more—more and more of this kind of scene we'll see."

After a few more minutes of silence, Rajeev glanced at the man in the rearview mirror and finally couldn't help but ask, "Sir, what exactly are you doing in the Poor Street?"

Wayne smiled slightly and said, "Of course, I'll become a homeless person, my friend."

Rajeev shrugged noncommittally and finally fell silent.

Wayne, however, looked calmly out the car window at the street.

His primary purpose in coming to Los Angeles was to retrieve the remains of the Holy Relic within the Riel Spirit Base and to settle past grievances from Hollywood.

But given the abundance of talent and resources in this place, we certainly couldn't let the opportunity slip away.

Seattle alone is far from enough to set the whole of America ablaze.

A single spark can start a prairie fire.

But even a small spark needs to gain momentum.

He needs to sow many seeds of fire on American soil so that it can spread like wildfire.

Los Angeles was the second source of the fire.

The most direct way to truly establish a foothold here, like in Seattle, and to take deep root, is of course to go among the grassroots and the homeless.

At the same time, settling those old scores in Hollywood also requires sufficient military support.

He needs to recruit some new heroes on the streets of Los Angeles.

Soon, the taxi entered a wide street, and the surrounding scenery became even more American.

Passing by the steps of a park, I saw all sorts of homeless people, it was like a street scene painting.

Further in, rows of tents began to appear along the roadside, almost like a cluster of buildings erected along the street, standing side by side.

Various kinds of garbage appeared on the streets, along with homeless people of different skin colors.

Dilapidated streets, homeless people walking slowly, drug addicts in American-style tumbler suits, long lines in front of relief stalls, syringes and needles scattered everywhere, and all sorts of discarded garbage collected by the homeless.

Everything here is so similar to the South Side of Seattle, but on a much larger scale.

There are more homeless people, drug addicts are taking more drugs, there are more and more novel enhancement products on the ground, and the graffiti on the walls is more chaotic and widespread.

You could say that Los Angeles's poor neighborhoods are an upgraded and enhanced version of Seattle's South Side.

This made Wayne feel very welcome.

"Sir, we've arrived at Poor Street—" Rajeev stopped the car on the street where the tents were most concentrated and said cautiously to Wayne.

Wayne nodded, handed the other person a few bills, and got out of the taxi.

Immediately, the familiar smell of the homeless neighborhood wafted over.

Because it's hotter in Los Angeles, the flavor is stronger.

The homeless people and drug addicts around him, who were going about their own business, completely ignored Wayne's arrival.

Clearly, he had seen many strange people on the streets.

After all, suppressing one's curiosity is one of the main rules for survival on the street.

Wayne glanced at a row of tents to the side, preparing to find someone to ask about the situation, when he heard a loud shout in Mandarin: "Time for dinner, guys!"