A 400-word scener for a UCLA Communications class taught by a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist.
The smell wafted into Bruin Plaza, turning heads as it moved past calls of “Pre-med, pre-health!” “Are you registered to vote?”, screams from children’s tour groups and student chatter.
Vinny Schutz popped on a baseball cap and turned it backward to cover a head of fine, popcorn-yellow hair. He coughed, and the remains of his chow mein shifted in his lap.
After a swig of soda, he looked through the filmy netting of his cooking tent to assess the foot traffic outside. It was right before afternoon classes begin, and it was kettle corn time.
He poured oil into a metal vat and suited up – puffed gray gloves, an industrial face shield and an apron over a grease-stained shirt he got on sale next to his stand. With the flip of a switch, a rhythmic buzz filled the air: the heralding pre-kettle corn call. Schutz swirled his spatula in the hot oil.
Seconds after he tossed in the kernels, a delicious pop pop pop pop sounded, like a soft pellet gun. Some pieces shot out of the vat and onto the floor. The sweet, nutty aroma rose like gun smoke.
He needed both hands to move the giant spatula in a figure eight to coat the kernels. Schutz said he listened for when 1,000 pops per second quieted to about 100 – only then did he tip the vat, dispatching the kernels into a tray. He seasoned, shoveling the salt and sugar to caramelize the fresh kettle corn.
The first student was waiting with an outstretched credit card in hand. Schutz ladled kernels into a cup, tapped it with his scooper three times and offered a twist tie.
“Have a good day, boss,” he sang.
He twirled the scooper.
The third customer was a woman.
“What can I get ya, sweetie?” he asked.
A man with a topknot had already grabbed one of the prepackaged bags so Schutz rang him up, complimenting his hair.
“How’s your day goin’?” the man asked.
“It’s poppin’!” he replied.
Schutz’s wide-set eyes are almost Bruin blue. When he talked, his eyes never quite focused on who he was talking to.
During lulls, he people watched. He noticed fashion. In particular, boots – low-heeled boots, high-heeled boots, boots up to your thighs, all colors and shapes.
A few kernels popped out of the overfilled brim of the last customer’s cup as Schutz watched him scurry away.