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Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.
Posted By: vector40 <brandon@degreesofclarity.com>Date: 5/15/06 4:27 a.m.

This is the story of the lousiest weekend ever to hit me or Los Angeles, and how one or two serious but ordinarily rectifiable mistakes turned into a three-day episodic charade of tragedy.

Mostly it's lousy because I missed you dudes at the LAN :-(

Everything here is completely, factually true.

Some backstory: for any who don't know, I had the intention this weekend of heading down to LA for dean's LAN. Also, the Psyjnir guys offered to sneak me into the last day of E3, so my plan was this: I'd take a Greyhound up to Berkeley Thursday night, crash there, grab the car and drive down to LA early Friday, hit E3, go to the LAN, crash at my sister's in LA, then drive home Saturday and reverse the process.

Sounds easy. I've made this drive a number of times and it's always gone well. What could go awry? Wouldn't even cost more than $100 or so, pretty much just gas money.

There are three stages to this story. There are the pre-fuckups, the Main Fuckup, and the post-fuckups.

DAY ONE

We begin well. I bus up, relax at home, get up early and hit the road, all nice and smooth.

About 10:30, I call the Psyjnir guys and confirm their plans; they're going to be at E3 all day, so I don't need to hurry. I thus decide to stop and get some food, since all I'd had to eat was a couple of pieces of pizza for breakfast. Quizno's? Yes, please.

I stop, get a sub. A beef dip. Now, if you're not versed with Quizno's (for shame!), this is a tasty roast beef sandwich that comes with a little cup full of pan-roasted au jus for dipping. I'm not sure why it didn't occur to me that a meal requiring the dipping of things into other things was not the ideal road food, but it didn't, not until I was in my car. But I thought, perhaps if I just found a place to rest the cup, no problem.

For some reason the right solution to this seemed to be the smooth vinyl top of my armrest. Now, please understand that I didn't miss the implications of this. In fact, the words "smooth vinyl top" was actually in my head at the time. I didn't stick it there assuming it'd be fine; I stuck it there thinking constantly, "This is a terrible idea. This is going to spill all over me. I'm going to have this moment of irony because I knew it would happen. This is a terrible idea." Off I drive, slowly, make a turn onto the onramp, and the entire cup slides into my lap.

Thick, slick, greasy beef juice is on my pants, my car seat, the passenger seat, maps, various surfaces, and a little still in the cup. I brake in the middle of the onramp, trying to figure out what to do, but I cannot back up and there is no room around me; I have to keep going. I pull off at the next exit, find a gas station, and steal a ream of paper towels. After a lengthy beef purging the smell is mostly gone and my pants look okay, if a little wet. Off I go.

Fast forward, nearly in LA. I'm lighting a cigarette and feeling pretty good. Moving to pull the lit stick from my mouth, I discover that my lips have fused to the filter; rather than removing the cigarette, my index and middle finger merely slide down the shaft, getting burned at the tip and dislodging a lit ash, which lands on my shirt. I have three or four seconds of quiet, staring, "... what do I do about this." before I suck it up, grab the hunk, and flick it out the window, burning my fingers again. There was -- is -- a hole in my shirt now. I liked that shirt.

I get to LA about 12:30 and leave the freeway, which exits right at the convention center. I'd found a couple of suggestions online for parking, so I trundle down Washington looking for somewhere to stick my car that won't cost an arm and a leg. Some meandering later, I park in a lot, $7 flat rate for the day, mostly empty. There's a tiny gas station nearby, which I stop in to use the bathroom (positively the most ghetto bathroom I've encountered). Take note of this; it will be important later.

I start walking to the center. Now, when I entered the city I was right there, so I basically knew the direction, but... well, I got lost. Wandered hither and yon. At one point I saw a sign saying, "Coliseum ->" and for whatever reason thought that might be the place, but no, that's some damned actual coliseum in the opposite direction. That didn't help.

Maybe 45 minutes later I finally located the friggin' Staples Center, and had another charade via cell-phone trying to locate the Psyjnir guys. Eventually I met up with them and others, said hi, and they got me into the building. I wandered. I couldn't leave that section of the expo, because I'd be checked for a badge again (which I didn't have) entering anywhere else, so I explored that particular wing, which was mostly Sony.

At maybe 3:00, I decide to bounce and head for the LAN. The Psyjnir guys had indicated they might need a ride, but they'd just call, and I had something of a walk anyway, so I started off.

This is where things go wrong.

THE MAIN FUCKUP

I couldn't find my car.

I don't mean that I wasn't able to locate my car within the lot. I assume it was where I left it. I just couldn't find the lot.

I thought I could find it. I'd... GLANCED at the street signs before I left. But I'd driven past a bunch of streets looking for parking, and seen a LOT more streets and landmarks while wandering around looking for the center, so the useful facts were buried somewhere in my head along with the chaff.

I kept looking around the area. But now I wasn't even sure of the area. I was neck-deep in Watts, asking shopkeepers and passing Mexicans where the nearest parking lot was, and they were swearing there weren't any parking lots in miles. Cool. Great.

I kept wandering. It was unusually hot in California this weekend, and especially so in LA; I was wearing jeans and leather shoes, really not much of a walking outfit. I was sweating, chafing, and my feet were sore; after a while my knees started to hurt. Where the hell was this place? I had plenty of time to get to the LAN, but this was stupid.

I kept wandering and criss-crossing around. Now I was starting to doubt everything. I'd seen everything so many times that it all looked familiar and I wasn't sure what I was looking for anymore. I bought a map at a gas station hoping for perspective, but it was worthless, showing none of the relevant streets. Christ.

I'd been walking for over two hours now. I was running out of beans, and I was somewhere completely beyond where even my addled memory thought I could've been parked (Pico and Hoover if you care). I parked my ass on a big metal box in frustration and resolved to call a cab.

My thinking was twofold: one, if I was lucky, with a description the driver might know where the place was. Two, if not, we could just drive around looking, same thing as I'd been doing but with better wheels. Basically I'd go bankrupt. It wasn't a great idea.

I get 411 on my cell and call a cab company. They say I'm ninth in line. Ninth? Yes, apparently all the cabs are tied up with E3, which ended at 4:00. Cool. I'll wait.

An hour and a half later, I have completely dispaired of this taxi ever arriving. I've been sitting on an electrical box or something in the parking lot of this strip mall, bopping my folded map against my knee and watching weird shit occur. A woman in a minivan broke down at the intersection and spent over an hour waving people past her until a tow truck showed up and spirited her away. Lucky.

I can't check on the cab because I didn't get the company's number, or even their name. I call information and get another one. They say 5-15 minutes, which would be swell; maybe I can find this thing while it's still light.

15 minutes later I call them back -- I DID get their number, this time -- and check. Sorry, they say, tied up with E3. 5-15 minutes.

20 minutes later, I call and check. Sorry. Tied up. 5-15 minutes.

"Is it actually 5-15 minutes, or are you just saying that?"

Turns out they had no idea. Could be anything. "My screen looks like an airport," the dispatcher said. Cool. Great.

At least, I thought, I had my cell phone. This would be a disaster without it. Take note of this. It will be important later.

I move into the dollar Chinese place, where it's warmer. The woman there is worried about me. I'd buy something, but I still think this cab is going to show up at any minute, and the food looks a little sketchy anyway.

It's 8:00. Fuck this. I call my sister (who lives in LA, remember? But I didn't want to bug her earlier, and I was nourishing the hope that my deus ex machina cab driver might know exactly where to go.) and ask for a ride. She accedes, if I'll pay for her gas, and shows up an hour later.

We get lost on the way home.

This is about the point where I started to suspect a really systemic problem. Up until now, it could have just been a handful of silly screwups; but how does this happen? I believe that I made angry some minority vote of peevish gods, and this is their vengeance.

Sister lives just off Wilshire in Westwood, and we drove down Wilshire for a half hour, as she observed with alarm, "What the hell are these streets? I don't even recognize these streets!" No, turns out we'd gotten turned around, which I realized as soon as we arrived literally back where I'd spent the day. Cool.

I was exhausted, sticky, smelling, hungry, and sore. All I wanted was a shower. I think They knew this. We got home by 11:00 with In & Out burgers. I called the police non-emergency line and checked if my car was in impound, given that it'd been left in this lot until midnight; it wasn't. Did some research, showered, and slept.

I hesitate to mention this because it is not my personal misfortunes so much as the misfortunes of others that have overlapped with mine, but my sister's shower does not have a hot water knob. It has hot water -- a trickle, at full blast -- but there is no knob, so you have to turn it on using a pair of adjustable pliers they keep by the sink. Exciting.

DAY TWO

I slept in. I needed it.

Sister was working all day so she couldn't assist. First thing I did was call the police again and check about impounds. I was on hold, waiting, when my phone started beeping.

Oh, no.

Ah, but yes. "It's going to die before I get through, isn't it?" It did. Batteries gave out. Should've checked what the number was first -- I couldn't get it again, sister had left with her computer, no phone books anywhere! I was able to retrieve it from the stored numbers by heating the battery in my armpit and switching the phone on for five or six seconds, though. Sweet.

I found a bus back into the hot area, which took an hour. My plan: the night before, I'd found a spot on Google Maps satellite imagery that looked a hell of a lot like my site. Big lot, fenced, near to another lot, long divider lines, etc. Not in the area that I thought, but hell, I didn't know where anything was. So I headed for there, hoping big.

Wasn't it. This was at... oh, Olympic and Main.

What was in that area was about a billion parking lots just like this, fenced-in little lots every block or two, and I walked for a few more hours looking for luck. None to be found. Very hot. Oh man.

Checked with the police, no luck. They say they don't tow from private property, give me the number of the tow company they use. Check with them; no luck. They say they don't tow from this area, give me the number of the company that does. Check with them; no luck. They say that all of the parking companies have their own towers. (Tow... guys? Tow-ers?) Terrific. I didn't even know if my car was still in the lot.

More wandering. Changed more cash for quarters. Sought refuge from the heat in a bank complex, which was beautifully air-conditioned and had chairs by a pay phone. Score.

I was lost. No ideas and no inclination to keep up this wandering shit. Needed help. Who do you call?

Well... Marc MacYoung.

What I didn't have was his phone number; it was on my phone, but that had very little juice left no matter how many armpits it went into. The real trouble, you see, is that I only have two or three phone numbers in all the world memorized; the rest are stored.

I WAS able to retrieve the number of a friend, floormate, and ex-girlfriend who I was pretty sure would be home at her computer. Through this, I executed an extended procedure that involved calling her, having her go online, and walking her through accessing a Gmail account I have that contains a stored email listing all sorts of useful information, among them... phone numbers. I obtain Marc's.

Ring ring. No answer. I chill a while and get some food at a Carl's Junior across the street. Tasty.

Call again and there he is. His advice: do a systematic search of every street in the area. Report it as stolen if it comes down to it. Get out of downtown Los Angeles before dark.

All right, I'll make a start, but first, I need a decent map, so I find a gas station and buy one. Great! Detailed and broad, very useful. I'm sitting outside the station perusing this when I hear a voice -- "You looking for something?"

It's a passing homeless guy. Why not. "I lost my car."

He asks details, ponders the "unusual problem," and calls over an associate, who "knows all the parking lots east of the freeway." He turns out to be an older man with a gray beard, earnest expression, and a hat.

At this point I'm 100% sure I'm in a movie. I have the helpful fellow who first greets me; the wise old man who knows what I need; and this third dude, who's kind of small and Dave Chapelle-ish and maybe high, and just keeps wandering over and making random noises, "Ooh!" and "Flower!" ("It's not Flower," the Wise Old Man says).

Listening to my story, and especially the detail about the little gas station that does oil changes and whatever, I am directed to San Pedro and Washington or so, which is back in the area I checked the first day. They give me metro directions, and I gratefully head off after giving them some money. Hopes are high.

As I ride the train above-ground, along Washington, I do a double-take out the window. Hm... little gas station with a parking lot behind it. Worth remembering. I'll check it later. Take note of this; it will be important later.

I arrive at my destination, walk the rest of the way, and find what I was probably referred to. It's not it. Blah.

Might as well start with that grid search. I start plodding out blocks, but frankly this whole area doesn't look right; it's way deep into the Mexican part of the neighborhood and too residential. And man, walking takes forever. A bike would be nice.

I get out twelve blocks or so, then start heading back, finally able to catch the same bus that I took here. Which turns out to... have part of its route cut off in the evening? I got kicked off on Wilshire, and walked the last five or six blocks with the help of my handy map. Just annoying. At this point I am positive I'm just facing random tribulations.

Think my sister's getting annoyed at my presence. Understandable. Also my clothes are starting to smell. I wish I had my bag almost as much as I wish I had my car. Haven't brushed my teeth in two days.

Ask sis if I can borrow her bike tomorrow. She says no. I lost a car. Fair point.

Sleep.

DAY THREE

I don't want to bug my sister, so I don't use her phone or computer. Instead I hop a bus and get off when I see a cellular store. I want a cell charger.

It's a Cingular store, and it's closed? Oh, it's Sunday, so they open at 11:00. it's 10:45, so I wait. There's a small crowd waiting with me.

11:00. 11:10. Cingular employees keep showing up until what I assume is the entire staff is there, but they don't open.

"What are we waiting for?"

"... a key."

The only relevant and useful employee is... out to lunch or something. They don't know. Cool.

I wait until 11:30 then bail. Christ.

Turns out, though, this is... cell phone row. (I was basically in Beverly Hills, so I suppose it makes sense.) Next block is a Sprint store -- closed for the weekend, some kind of event -- then T-Mobile, MetroPCS, etc. Literally at least five cell stores within two or three blocks. All very busy. Hmm. I try a couple, but they only have car chargers. Finally find a Verizon place, which is extremely helpful and sells me a charging cable... for $30. Cool.

Keep going until I find an internet cafe. Start charging my phone while I do more research. My thought was this: most of these lots seem to be owned by the same handful of companies. If I can get their numbers -- the numbers of their headquarters, not the actual lots -- maybe I could ask them for (1) what tow companies they use (who I could then ask about my car), and (2) a list of numbers for all the lots they owned in the area. It'd be a lot, but I could work through the list, and it would be easier than physically walking to each.

No. Turns out there's literally something like 800 of these companies, and god only knows how many actual lots. It would be next to impossible, or at least totally prohibitive, to do this. I wrote down some of the big companies anyway, and popped open Google Maps again. I'd just remembered the place I noticed on Washington.

Well... hell. That sure looks interesting. Look at those long white lines. Look at that little roof that sure seems like a gas station. And there's another lot just across the street. And the orientation from the convention center would be right.

Hmm.

I'm running out of aces. I eat -- another Carl's Junior, by fluke -- and resolve to bus down to this spot and check it out. If it's not right... I don't know. I may report the car as stolen and take a Greyhound back to Santa Cruz. I need to, you know... go back to school.

Bus. Railcar. Parking lot.

There it was. My goddamned car.

I wasn't sure how much they were going to charge me for three days' parking. Turned out to be a nonissue. There was no attendant. I just drove out. Hot damn.

I got gas and hit the freeway.

At this point we enter the post-fuckups stage.

I was on the road for five minutes when a car tried to change lanes in front of me, I guess not looking, and nailed the adjacent vehicle. They both spun out, exactly like in the movies, or in the Allstate commercials. Oh, lord. Now this mojo's spilling over to other people. I should quarantine myself.

I pulled over and ran to check on them. Both women were already on their cell phones, neither, apparently, to 911, but to their husbands or boyfriends or whoever. Odd. I put out a couple flares (it was broad daylight, but just to hammer in the idea of "you'll need to swerve, this is an accident site") and called highway patrol, which was... busy. While I was on hold a motorcycle cop showed up. I'm done. One of the women asked if I'd seen the accident, but I really hadn't, not enough to judge fault, so I bounced.

Let us fast forward, and I've decided to drive straight to Santa Cruz rather than dropping the car in Berkeley and taking a bus back. The freeway splits, and most cars including me are in the right-hand lane, starting and stopping, inching forward as we split off. I am glancing down at a map to make sure this is the right way to go (I've never driven from LA to SC), accelerate too much for the small gap, look up, can't break in time, and rear-end the white sedan in front of me.

Cool.

It's a mom with four kids in the car. I check on them, they're fine, give them my insurance. (She too is already on the phone to her husband by the time I get to their car. What is it with this?) Her husband wants to call the police and have me shot or something. She: "No, no, we're fine, it's fine." Lordy. I've scratched her fender paint and put two little holes in the metal from the bolts on my license. I have no damage. Go Volvo tanks.

We finish up, I tell her to call me and let me know the damage. I think I'll let my parents know once I get back. This is not a conversation I want to have in the car. By a fluke of how we pull out, the car I hit is actually driving behind me for the next ten miles. Good times.

I manage to get back to Santa Cruz, get lost, ask for help at a gas station and am again given excellent directions by a homeless man, use their bathroom, get splashed in the crotch by an overzealous faucet, manage to find my way downtown, park on a side street, (there's no campus parking), and go to the bus stop. Bus comes eventually. It's full and doesn't even stop. Cool.

Another bus comes. I get on, get to campus, and walk very carefully to my dorm.

Good times.

-- vector


Message Index




Replies:

Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.vector40 5/15/06 4:27 a.m.
     FIRST POST *NM*Schooly D 5/15/06 4:32 a.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.vector40 5/15/06 4:38 a.m.
     Current Vector40 status: ALIVE + CAR! :D *NM*sorahn 5/15/06 4:44 a.m.
     \( @_@ )/ *NM*BOLL 5/15/06 4:52 a.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.Louis Wu 5/15/06 5:40 a.m.
           Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.vector40 5/15/06 3:53 p.m.
                 Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.KP 5/15/06 4:57 p.m.
           Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.mr_mcmurder 5/16/06 1:03 a.m.
     Poor Vec...Funkmon 5/15/06 5:55 a.m.
           Re: Poor Vec...The MorningStar 5/15/06 9:27 p.m.
           Re: Poor Vec...dipanjan 5/16/06 5:11 a.m.
     GG Vec *NM* *NM*Blown-Upp 5/15/06 5:56 a.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.Hawk7886 5/15/06 5:59 a.m.
     >.< *NM*MasterCheifn 5/15/06 7:00 a.m.
     Wow.Spartan Jag 5/15/06 9:17 a.m.
           Re: Wow.Darkendes 5/15/06 11:16 a.m.
     sorry to hearMiguel Chavez 5/15/06 9:22 a.m.
     That's what you get for defouling all those graves *NM*Ename Nep 5/15/06 10:25 a.m.
           Re: That's what you get for defouling all those grEname Nep 5/15/06 10:26 a.m.
     Dude, where's your car? *NM*Count Zero 5/15/06 12:12 p.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.mnemesis 5/15/06 12:37 p.m.
           Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.Louis Wu 5/15/06 1:02 p.m.
                 Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.mnemesis 5/15/06 1:05 p.m.
                       Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.jman571 5/15/06 1:21 p.m.
                             Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.vector40 5/15/06 3:47 p.m.
                                   Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.TheGarbageMan 5/15/06 3:51 p.m.
                 nothing but netdeanero 5/15/06 1:18 p.m.
                 Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.Jacob.M 5/17/06 4:50 a.m.
     Hahahahaha...Skeletor 5/15/06 1:32 p.m.
           Re: Hahahahaha...vector40 5/15/06 3:44 p.m.
           haha :(Djof 5/15/06 5:44 p.m.
                 Writing talent I certainly lack - lol *NM*Djof 5/15/06 5:48 p.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.Mothergoat 5/15/06 2:56 p.m.
     Personally.akba 5/15/06 3:08 p.m.
           TrueFunkmon 5/15/06 10:52 p.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.{SS}Zag1 5/15/06 3:49 p.m.
     Well, at least you...Spartan Jag 5/15/06 4:03 p.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.Wado SG 5/15/06 4:55 p.m.
           Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.Varanos 5/15/06 4:59 p.m.
                 Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.Mikezoom 5/15/06 5:23 p.m.
     Holy Shit....Hawaiian Pig 5/15/06 5:38 p.m.
           Here, Have thisHawaiian Pig 5/15/06 5:48 p.m.
                 mnemesisMiguel Chavez 5/15/06 7:29 p.m.
                       Well...mnemesis 5/15/06 10:52 p.m.
                             *audibly chuckles* *NM*Funkmon 5/15/06 10:54 p.m.
                             rofl *NM*Hawaiian Pig 5/16/06 3:30 p.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.RomeoDude 5/15/06 5:59 p.m.
     RE:Terra 5/15/06 7:23 p.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.serotoninzero 5/15/06 7:48 p.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.GAMER4EVER 5/15/06 7:54 p.m.
     Good God, vec.Pvt. Jenkins 5/15/06 9:01 p.m.
     Glad You Had Fun!Mintz 5/15/06 9:45 p.m.
     <3 vec, sorry we missed you at the LAN *NM*The MorningStar 5/15/06 9:46 p.m.
     damn...Zattack89 5/15/06 9:56 p.m.
     That sounded like hell.*THASF* A.K.A. "The Halo And Sonic Fan" 5/15/06 10:08 p.m.
     Bad Luck?lukey125 5/15/06 10:54 p.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.Sep7imus [subnova] 5/16/06 8:08 a.m.
           Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.vector40 5/16/06 1:33 p.m.
                 Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.Sep7imus [subnova] 5/16/06 4:25 p.m.
     well done.griff 5/16/06 8:39 a.m.
           Re: well done.dipanjan 5/16/06 9:55 a.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.chess 5/16/06 10:31 a.m.
     congrats on not being dead, man. *NM*Max Power (aka- dewbe) 5/16/06 1:51 p.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.Jake P. 5/16/06 2:01 p.m.
     Wow...Cannith[iz] 5/16/06 3:31 p.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.DarkBlades 5/16/06 5:26 p.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.nicolas 5/16/06 6:12 p.m.
           Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.nicolas 5/16/06 6:15 p.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.warbinger 5/17/06 10:18 a.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.Brodingo 5/17/06 7:58 p.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.lol@you.com 5/17/06 10:01 p.m.
           Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.Raiden 5/17/06 11:16 p.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles!Slaughtered420 5/18/06 7:00 p.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.Kyle Bolen 5/18/06 8:58 p.m.
     Re: Fun times in Los Angeles! Not though.xX kel0811 Xx 5/19/06 7:21 p.m.



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