Ana and I had one of our very first dates at a buzzing, little sushi joint called Crazy Fish.
At the time, she lived in San Diego, and I in LA, so I said "You want to meet half-way?" She said yes.
So we met in LA.
Because let's face it, people. LA traffic sucks.
Anyway, because I bought Saki and she bought my charm, and because we drove separately and closed the place down, it seemed unnatural for her to drive all the way back to San Diego, which meant only one thing.
PAPA was getting some action! Ana was staying the night.
It also meant she'd be following me back to my place.
I don't know about you, but I hate following people. Especially when you've got no choice like when someone dies and they have a funeral procession. Then you're stuck in a long line, forty cars deep, pumping your brakes every two seconds. That's just not me. I want to be the motorcycle cop racing ahead and shutting down intersections.
Even worse, though, I hate people following me. (Except on Twitter, of course. Go ahead, add me . It only takes a minute.) Basically: I don't drive to be followed. Most of the time, I don't even know where I'm going. Traffic backs up and, immediately, I duck into an alley way or cut through a gas station, even speed up and pass incoming traffic. Or use the middle yellow dividing line as a passing lane. Whatever's quickest. Forget about yield signs and yellow lights, I simply don't like to wait. Last thing I want to do is check my rear-view mirror.
BUT -- you can't pull that kind of shit if someone's following you. Now, I guess, if the date had gone poorly I could have used that as an excuse to ditch her. Can you imagine? I brake at a yellow light making like I'm slowing down and then, at the very last minute, speed up and run the red light. Or weave in and out and pull some fancy SpyHunter action on her.
Interestingly, the ability to keep up and follow me in traffic, especially heavy traffic, is one main criteria I use in judging people's character.
There are exceptions to the rule, of course. Like if she's a member of the opposite sex. And she's driving back to my house. Drunk.
(On second hand, that's usually when they do the best.)
Otherwise, I just can't be slowed down.
And, yet, sometimes you're just shit out of luck.
Because no matter how slow you go, you'll invariably hit one of those Tricky Yellow Lights. Yes, those. The ones where you're like "Shit, do I go?, Do I not go?, Do I go? Do I not go?" and before you know it, you're already through it, and she's sitting back at a red light. Two hundred yards away. Then, even if you want to or not, you gotta pull over except you can't because there's a bus lane, or a red zone, or some random skinny guy in a wheelchair and you're like "Fuck, I just want to go!" And you smack the steering wheel.
That's when you notice the copper in your rear-view mirror.
Suddenly you bolt up, legs tight, hands frozen at 10 and 2 and you drive really, really...really...slow.
Kinda like if you've ever driven stoned. The light finally changes after like five minutes and you pull out really, really, slowly, giving copper man a friendly wink, while just missing taking out the skinny guy in the wheelchair whose suddenly materialized out of nowhere onto your dashboard...
And it's like that all the way home.
Which brings up yet another fun scenario. Have you ever had someone follow you back to your house, the highway on ramp, a backyard BBQ, whatever, and they're going so slow that suddenly you look up and YOU'RE lost? You were so concentrated on them, that you totally forgot where you were going. You flip around like "What the fuck?" panicking like maybe the streets changed or something only you can't act lost because they're following YOU, so you play it off, taking shortcuts, changing to the slow lane, just praying for a red light so you can stop and get your bearings back.
"Can I just get a fucking red light!"
Meanwhile, your driving goes to shit. You start driving in circles, taking quick turns and missing exits. Doing stuff you'd never do, like trying to turn the wrong way on a one-way street. Each turn taking you further and further from the right path.
Then you feel them start to doubt you. They slow down. Signal you with their brights. Call you on your cell. "We almost there?" And you're like "Oh, yeah, they must have been doing construction or something, but, meanwhile, you're turning around in cul de sacs. Finally, after an hour or so, you get home and they're like "Does it always take you that long to get home?" and you're like "No, no, I was just taking the scenic road..."
Whew. Suddenly, I feel like I just took that trip.
By now some of you are probably wondering where I"m going with all this. Slow down. Relax. Enjoy the ride. We're getting there.
Only thing is this is Part I. You'll have to wait for Part II.
In the meantime, sit up, buckle up, and drive safely. And, always, always, always:
Beware the skinny wheelchair man...
-- PAPA
Check back for Part II...In the meantime, what stupid driving stunts have you pulled?
