ode to bad drivers

I felt compelled to write this today when yet another driver on a southern Californian highway (or freeway for those who are native to this state) thought he would change lanes. And that’s all fine and dandy (we all like to change lanes) as long as there isn’t a car next to you when you do it. In this case the car next to him happened to be me. Luckily he realized his mistake and swerved back into his lane. This was a very positive maneuver since my only options at that point were to let myself get sideswiped by him, swerve into the lane on the other side of me, likely sideswiping that car, speeding up only to rear end the car in front of me, or slam on my breaks causing the car behind me to rear end me. Either way if he’d kept going my car was meshing with someone’s and potential flippage (my worst driving fear) would occur. I would love to say this is an isolated incident but I have a near death experience at least several times a week, primarily associated with someone trying to play bumper cars with me without my knowledge. One of my roommates recently commented that this seems to happen to me on such a regular basis that perhaps I emit some kind of car attraction signal.

Besides the infinite amount of peeps who think it’s a swell idea to move into lanes already occupied by 3,000 pounds of metal (I actually have no idea how much a car weighs) I’ll highlight some of my fav bad drivers. In fact, I’ll start with the two in a row I encountered today simply driving down my street. First, there was the dude behind me who decided 6 inches was plenty of space between the end of my car and the beginning of his (And I don’t drive abnormally or even normally slow. Plus the fact that there was a car in front of me, in which I was allowing the standard car length between. And actually I probably should have even been allowing more car lengths based on the driver’s ed principal of car lengths we all learned when we were 16. But in SoCal law that gets divided by pi so I was legal.). Then, he actually had a for real good idea and passed me on the left. But then he lost his mind again because he decided to cut in between me and my regulation one car length (Okay, maybe it was two at this point because otherwise this story wouldn’t work.) only to turn an immediate right. And in response to the shocked look on my face and perhaps a hand thrown up in the air (And no, I did not extend any fingers!) he did extend his middle finger. The shocked look stayed on my face for some time as, not even two blocks down the same road, a man who’d parked his car on the side of the street opened his car door right in front of me and proceeded to step out onto the street. Now, at this moment I was driving abnormally slow, still recovering from the shock of the last guy. And boy, was that lucky for him because if I had been going anywhere near the speed limit he and his door would have been toast.

Another prime example of the cut off was on another major freeway where there had been an accident (surprisingly I don't see more of these). Due to this everyone was driving slow. Most times this inspires other drivers to be more aware and cautious in their driving. Not for Silver Some Kinda Car. This dude proceeded to cross over the double lines of the carpool lane and cut off three different lanes beginning with mine. I'll admit I've become a honker since moving out here. But only if its necessary to let someone know they almost killed half a dozen people. So I definitely blasted it as did the other cars that were cut off. The look on this guy's face was pure confusion. Apparently he didn't realize it helps to have room in front of a car before you get over... and a blinker on.

I don't get it. Far as I know we have traffic laws here. In fact, I know we do since there are required driving tests (not sure who's giving them, though) and I've been pulled over for not obeying some of them. But what really amazes me is the amount of those drivers who try to take me out sideways, frontways, rearways, any way they can and then become pissed off at me for simply reminding them that I'm there (Correct me if I'm wrong but I'm fairly certain the horn was invented so we could remind road hogs that other drivers aren't tooth fairies and that we do in fact exist). These buttheads as a collective group have flipped me off more more than any other group. I've even had a few roll down their windows and threaten bodily harm. Each time I'm baffled as to why they're pissed off at me seeing as they're the ones being completely inconsiderate, illegal, and dangerous. I typically smile and wave. After I lay on the horn.

My favorite butthead car is actually one I encountered on foot. I was running and came up to a crosswalk. I'm not a reckless runner so I keep a pretty good eye out for dangerous situations and noticed a moving vehicle about half a block away. Knowing there was a stop sign I proceeded to enter the crosswalk. This car decided to speed up and attempt to go right through the stop sign and me. If they hadn't slammed on the brakes at the last minute I would've been toast. I froze in horror (probably not the best reaction if I wanted to survive) and all five teenagers in this car started screaming at me in Spanish. I don't know a ton of Spanish but I'm pretty sure they were cussing me out.

While I feel that I was being a very cautious pedestrian I can semi-understand their probably overall frustration with southern Californian pedestrians as I've also noticed that peeps suck at walking. Now, I never knew you could mess up walking but some folks have figured out a way. There seem to be inordinate amount of individuals in this part of the country who think it’s highly intelligent to dart out in front of moving vehicles. And my favorites are the ones who do it at night, dressed in all black or at the very least navy blue, carrying or pushing babies in strollers.

One last note on bad drivers so that we don't all blame it on the Asians, which is the ongoing joke about their ethnicity being the worst drivers. I've even heard this from Asians themselves. Reflecting upon all my experience with bad drivers, it has absolutely nothing to do with a person's ethnicity. The Asians I know who've grown up here (and even some who haven't) are as good of drivers as anyone else I know. Rather it's people from foreign countries in general. This makes a lot of sense because most foreign countries don't have the same driving laws we do. If they have any driving laws at all. This especially makes sense in a location as diverse as southern California, with such a high population of immigrants.

In conclusion, I have no recommendations. Rather this is simply a public service announcement to those brave enough to frequent the southern Californian freeways. Practice defensive driving, never be afraid to lay on the horn, and practice extending that middle finger if necessary. Everyone else is doing it.

assistance at the thrift store

I hate shopping. But I love thrift stores. While this might sound like an oxymoron (which might be a good word to sum me up in anyway) let me add that I also like treasure hunts. Which to me is really what a thrift store is. The actual likelihood of finding something amazing is pretty slim (although still much higher than JC Penneys) but when you do it's the most amazing thing you've ever found and you can be sure no one else has it. That being said I actually find a lot of really cool stuff at thrift stores so my previous point might be null and void.

Thrift stores are also great people watching locales. For sure you'll hear the loud and proud sisters yelling at each other across the store about what they've found (okay, I've done that a time or two as well). You'll also hear a mother and daughter arguing loudly about something the daughter wants but the mome doesn't want her to have. Creepy middle aged men hide out in the women's shoe section. I'm still not sure if they're waiting for everyone to leave so they can buy a pair or if they're checking out the ladies' legs. Baby's are running around screaming madly looking to be adopted since I'm pretty sure they don't have parents. Someone always shows up for some drunk shopping. Hipsters act like they're too cool to be there but end up leaving with fifteen bags of the most used clothing they can find.

And this past Sunday I met Scarf Picker Outter Man. There was this rack filled with scarves. Granted you don't really need a scarf in southern California but I've come to appreciate the fashion of them. But since you don't need a scarf in southern California I refuse to pay full price for them. So when I saw this rack with all of these beautiful brand new looking scarves I went nuts. Scarf Picker Outter Man must have noticed that because he proceeded to spend five minutes of his shopping trip (to buy what I do not know) picking out scarves for me and draping them around my neck asking all the other randoms what they thought. With his help I purchased four new "for fashion only unless it snows in the near future" scarves. And that is a new reason why I love thrift stores.

southern californians in raincoats

My roommate texted me the following the other day: “Dude. All the crazies must come out when it rains… what the heck?” To which I responded, “How so?” She texted back, “ive seen like 3 people who im pretty sure they dont know who they are…” I texted back, “Sounds pretty normal to me (we live in an area well known for its colorful residents).” To which she responded, “Haha, same as usual but i feel like they came out in strong numbers today.”

Now after the present deluge of monsoon rain (I’m purposely trying to sound as dramatic as a native southern Californian right now) I’d have to agree with my roommate. And it isn’t only the crazies that come out nor who I want to focus on here (since their behavior really doesn’t vary according to the rain; they’re usually strange no matter what) but rather it’s the average Joes and really cool kids who start to act particularly odd.

One of the more amusing things I’ve noticed revolves around fashion. Even prior to the monsoon one of my favorite people watching experiences takes place every year during the historial winter months (December, January, February), during which southern Californians don the fashions of New York City. That in and of itself wouldn’t be odd if I’d replaced southern California with say, Chicago or some other cold city. But when it’s 72 degrees and sunny wearing a parka, uggs, and a knitted hat make about as much sense as wearing a bathing suit on the streets of New York in 50 degree weather, even if it is July. I’m not saying don’t wear those fashions, hipsters of the greater Los Angeles area. Just wear them when they actually make some sense, like during one of those few days when it actually does dip into the 40s. I know those days are far and few between but they do exist. ‘Course that doesn’t give us much of an opportunity to wear our cute wool peacoats but then if you really need the additional weeks head to Mammoth or Tahoe or Denver or Siberia.

This leads me to the opposite phenomenon that occurs during rainstorms, in which our fashionistas (okay, and everyone else) are inadequately prepared for even a mere sprinkle (this includes myself as I’ve lived out here for a good five years and forget that I ever survived a day of rain in my life). No one owns umbrellas, raincoats, rainboots, rainpants, rainhats, or any other number of rain repelling clothing that makes getting around during an onslaught of wetness that much easier. So at the first drop everyone heads to the stores and those of us unlucky enough to get there after an hour have nothing left to choose from. “I think this coat’s waterproof,” says the 17-year-old salesboy at Target. “No it’s not! It’s 100% denim!” Thank goodness for uggs and that knitted hat from Grandma.


Now this is an LA Raincoat Man!

Aside from the fashion, southern Californians also let their conversation and lives completely revolve around the weather when it rains. The conversation part makes slight sense since there are something like 360 days of sunny blue skies and 70 degree temperatures. When it dips into the 60s or moisture falls from the sky (or even threatens to fall) that is news. However, the panic it induces is unforgiveable and something from a post-Apocolyptic film. People forget how to drive, how to walk, how to work, how to watch a movie, how to microwave popcorn… They revert back to infancy. Some real life comments I’ve heard are: “Are you really going to work in this hurricane weather?” It wasn’t even raining at that moment. “Should we really go to that concert? It’s supposed to rain.” Again, wasn’t raining at that moment and wasn’t supposed to until the next morning, by which time I was certainly planning on being home. And even if I wasn't a little rain wasn't going to keep me from enjoying myself indoors. Luckily there are those of us who aren’t native southern Californians to remind them of their idiocy and that updating your facebook status to let us know it’s still raining (something we can all ascertain looking out of our bedroom window when we wake up) is entirely unnecessary.