Only In Los Angeles: The Heat Signature


I was standing in the showers at the Van Nuys Sherman Oaks Swimming Pool, rinsing off after my morning workout, and I heard this conversation between two men in their thirties:

 My dad grew up in Hungary, but he doesn’t talk too much about his past.

 Hungary is a country?

 Yes, in Eastern Europe. It was communist when he lived there. 

 So was your dad communist?

 I don’t know what he was. Every so often he says wild stuff out of nowhere, completely random, and it freaks me out.

 Like what?

 Like he told me at dinner that if you want to bury a dead body so people can’t find it, you bury it vertically. That’s so if searchers are using infrared sensors on a plane overhead, it’s harder to spot the outline of the decaying body underground. It’s called a heat signature.

 That’s pretty random. He just offered that up at dinner?

 Yeah, then he said nothing else for an hour. I don’t know, maybe he was a spy or something.

Only in Los Angeles …

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