One Rong View

Thursday, June 22, 2006

A Good, Bad, Good Day

Bummer, bummer, bummer!

Getting out of bed on the right side was the easy part of starting the day off on the right foot.

I was incredibly happy with myself for stepping out of the house a little early today because that would mean having less competition on the roads, which would mean arriving at my destination in record time, which in turn would mean snagging a choice parking spot. Hell, it was the most genius plan ever and it was going to make me a very happy girl.

And since things were going so well, I decided what better day than today to try out a new, potentially faster route? I was so psyched driving onto the interstate ramp. Smooth sailing! Traffic was not only moving, it was moving fast. Oh yeah! I was going to be where I want to be in a snap. And it was barely 7:15!

Now where do I exit? I took in all the signage and started processing the information. Western… way too early. Normandie... still too early. Vermont... too early. Main... maybe but it's not exactly the best one. Excellent job, brain. Brain was performing, brain was being a great navigator, brain was with me all the way. Until.

Hoover, Adams, San Pedro, couple of other random names I’m not that familiar with. Ok… I know San Pedro is a good bet. It's one street away from where I want to be.

Here's where my brain malfunctioned.

Blah blah blah.... are the road signs referring to “San Pedro, the street,” or “San Pedro, the city?” There is no San Pedro, the city, in this city, is there? Not that I remember. But maybe there is one that I don't know about. But then again, I've never come across "San Pedro, the city" since we moved here. Must be the street. But then again, I'm paranoid. Don't really want to end up in the middle of nowhere or drive any farther than I absolutely need to.

I decided to exit at Adams and from there, I’ll get onto Central and that will take me to 7th St and then Alameda and then Warehouse and I’m there. Awesome job brain, let’s do it.

So I got off the I10 onto Adams. Everything was going great. Just this one extremely strange detail. All the names of the cross streets looked oddly familiar, with one disturbing detail. Vermmont, Normandy , Western, Arlington, Crenshaw… did the urban planners deliberately give streets in different areas of LA the exact same names, in the exact opposite order just to mess with people? I felt like I was driving home. I asked myself whether I was driving in the wrong direction… no, couldn't be… yes… no… oh boy, I WAS driving in the wrong direction!

I was so close. And the off ramp had to lead to Adams in the WRONG direction. Practically drove myself home.

It was one of those times when I wanted to just plough through everything — traffic, buildings, people, everything — and just drive from point A to point B direct, in a straight line.

Of course, I had get myself re-oriented and get back on track.

Of course I get where I need to and had a hard time finding parking. Hundreds of cars and no empty spot in sight. I was about to give up, when the nice security guys found me a very decent spot. It was a pretty good spot too.

And that was how the best day ever became the worst day ever became the best day ever. No one stops me from having a good day.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Immigration Schmimigration

I have never heard anyone say, "When I grow up, I want to be the awesomest bureacrat ever." And recent experiences have confirmed, definitively, that no one will. Ever. Except on Futurama.

It's not that hard doing the research and making sense of the 10 billion pages of instrcutions and filling out the forms and getting all the supporting materials and giving them the money and stuff. It's just not as fun as say, watching grass grow. Or as satisfying as a good poop.

Good thing Fred and I are honest, law abiding, goody two shoesy people who have no connections with the mafia. Otherwise, the paper-pushers will be out of business. But then again, if there weren't illegals running around, the illegal alien nabbers will have a hard time feeding their families.

I guess it's a matter of choice. See, we do live in a free world.