You have a nice day, too, sir.
Had my first encounter with Southern California road rage today turning onto the 405 North. Before the on-ramp I was alongside a guy in a silver compact car. I needed to get into the right lane, so speeded up and pulled in front of Mr. Congeniality. He passed me on the left on the two-lane ramp and swerved his car towards mine so violently that the tires squeeled.
Apparently he'd taken my pulling my rented Ford Focus in front of him as some sort of comment on his penis size, since as he turned off a mile or two down the road he gave me this one-finger salute. There was a time when this encounter would have had my adrenaline pumping. Today it just seemed pathetic and unnecessary.
After my morning interview in Marina Del Rey I drove back along the Pacific Coast Highway to see something other than the view from the freeway. I stopped for a while in Manhattan Beach and walked out on the pier. If you ever wondered why the Olympic beach volleyball players are from California, the rows and rows of courts on the beaches will answer that question.
I've done a lot of driving in my few days here. Seems that most everywhere I want to go is 40 miles from whereever I am.
To compensate for yesterday's funnel cake I had a veggie sandwich and salad for lunch at the Cafe Milan in Marina Del Rey. Tasty. The cappuccino, on the other hand, had a burnt flavor, one of the few bad cappuccinos I've ever had.
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