“Hey man! Do you know where to find a McDonalds?”

The voice seemed to come from a clump of dirty sheets pressed against a concrete wall near the street corner.

I stopped. Was he talking to me?

“You!” the voice said, as if answering my thoughts. “I need to go pee. Do you know where a McDonalds is?”

A dirty face emerged from the sheets, lines etched into its leathery skin in the unmistakable shape of panic. There was no question that the homeless man needed to relieve himself. Soon.

“Oh. Umm…sorry I don’t.” I answered lamely.

Being only my second week in Koreatown, I had yet to notice the Golden Arches sitting merely four blocks away.

“Okay. I’ve got a backup plan!” the man shouted. He threw off the sheets and bolted around the corner while holding his crotch.

His name, as I would later learn, is “Chief.” And it was the first of many interactions we’ve had at 7:30 in the morning.

Since moving to Koreatown, I’ve gotten to know a veritable cast of characters during my morning walks. I started the practice about three weeks ago. Armed with a plastic coffee mug, I’m out the door by 7:15, and for about 30 minutes or so, I weave various loops around K-Town that eventually land me back at my front door.

Originally, the goal was to wake up and clear my head. I’d set out on a moderate pace down 3rd street without really thinking about anything in particular, enjoying the lack of traffic and the stirring sounds of shop-owners opening the sliding metal doors of their storefronts. Weekdays tend to be quiet. On weekends things pick up. Saturday mornings, 3rd street becomes an outdoor flea market, with families wheeling wagons full of trinkets and spreading them out over blankets and tarps on the sidewalk. One might offer electric toasters and collections of old Star Wars VHS tapes. Another, ceramic mugs that say ‘Gore/Lieberman 2000’ on them. Then on Sundays, you get the added attraction of the Unitarian church’s latin rock band. They wage a battle for souls with the Zumba dance studios next door that are cranking cumbia on their soundsystems.

It is a wonderfully diverse area of Los Angeles, with lots of pungent sights and sounds. Regardless of the day, at 7:30 you can feel the pulse of the neighborhood just beginning to stir, plotting whatever it has in store for the next 24 hours.

For me, though, the best thing about morning walks are my short interactions with K-Town’s other early birds.

I’ve become pals with a Korean couple who does yoga in their driveway every morning. They never fail to break whatever pose they’re in to wave at me. There’s the auto mechanics at the smog check place who salute their coffee mugs in solidarity as I pass. Continuing around the corner, I’ll exchange a ‘morning’ with “Chief,” the homeless man. And then there’s the really hot woman who walks her Jack Russell at 7:30 sharp if I happen to be taking the ‘southern loop.’ I’ve found myself going that way more often.

The discovery I’ve made is that — for whatever reason — at that time in the morning, few pass by without some kind of greeting. It could be a short “hello,” or maybe it’s just a head nod. But even then, that slight tilt of the head feels like the most validating acknowledgement you could ask for, like ‘hey, you’re part of this neighborhood.’ For that brief window of time, a fraternity of K-Town’s early risers shares a unique and ephemeral moment.

Then, a most curious thing happens.

Somewhere around 8:30am, the interactions just stop. It’s like the moment rush hour hits, and the roads get congested with angry drivers, and the sidewalks crowd with people scuttling like ants between work and errands, you dissolve into the sea of faceless numbers again. People don’t say hello or make eye contact as often. The magic is over.

Only a glimmer lingers, if I happen to run into people from my morning walks at other times of the day. At least we’re no longer strangers.

“So Chief, I finally found the McDonald's,” I said when I chanced upon him the other night.

He chuckled.

“Already beat you to it Chris, but thanks.”

“Guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow morning then?”

“You bet.”