It was a sunny California afternoon some indeterminate number of months ago and I was at the gas station filling dobo¹ with go-juice. While engaged with this task, an Asian gentleman gets out of his truck and walks over looking slightly agitated. He asks me if I know how to get to UCLA. Yes, of course I know how to get to UCLA, doesn't everyone? You get on this street here; head thataway; get on the freeway; go a while; get off the freeway; turn on some street; turn on some other street by some big buildings, and you're there. It dawns on me that either I've lived in LA four years and failed to learn a single street name, or anytime someone asks you for directions all street names immediately vanish from your mind.

The man walks back to his truck looking more agitated. I grab a squeegee and start washing my windows. If only I had access to some global information resource, too bad the Internet is only good for porn. But wait, I have a Jesus Phone!

Deus ex machina in hand, I walk over to the gentleman who is now loudly speaking on his cell phone. It occurs to me that he is likely speaking with his kid, a student at UCLA, who apparently doesn't know how to operate the Internet, a paper map, or direct his parents to his own school. I proceed to give him turn by turn directions to UCLA, which he proceeds to shout loudly into the phone. Why, I haven't the slightest, since I assume the person on the other end isn't the one most in need of directions.

Rescue of lost parents successful, I walk back to my car, get in, and drive away.



I'm not sure there is any story left to tell, but I will share two more bits. I didn't actually leave the gas station with the nozzle still in my car and the gas station attendant didn't even seem the slightest bit fazed when I pointed out the dead snake thing coiled at the base of the pump.


¹ : If you're wondering why I call my car dobo, you might find this illuminating.

Tags: dobo, nottech