The Worst in Some People Brings Out the Best in Others

I love the Batman movies. I've seen them all: Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight series, the older ones with Michael Keaton, Geoerge Clooney and Val Kilmer. So it was a lock that I would go to see The Dark Knight Rises. I thought I'd wait a week or two for the crowds to die down, but after the shooting Friday night in Aurora, I decided it was important to go opening weekend. I don't want the bad in this world to win out over the good, I don't want to live in fear, and I wanted to stand with Christopher Nolan and his cast to honor the people in Aurora who couldn't wait to see that movie and now never will. I chose the earliest movie, figuring it would be the least crowded. On my way there, I was the first car stopped at a red light. When it turned green, I went. BOOM--IMPACT! And a person went flying across the hood of my car! Holy Shit!! This guy jumps up and starts saying that I hit him. He hit me! Unfortunately for him, a busy road yields a lot of witnesses. Witnesses who got involved, got out of their cars, blocked traffic and kept telling me "It's not your fault. It's not your fault. He ran the red light. Are you OK?" "Call the cops, his insurance needs to pay for the damage to your car." "I'll wait with you. I saw everything. It's not your fault." My hands were shaking so much I don't know how I managed to dial 911--it's a very interesting experience to watch a person roll over the hood of your car. Then the red-light runner gets belligerent with me! Says "You fucked up my bike. You have to pay for it." I wanted to say 'Dude--I didn't run the fucking red light--you fucked up your own bike.' But I didn't say that because I was terrified he'd take a swing at me. That's when the huge, burly, tattooed motorcyclist pulled up and stopped. My witnesses were still there--but they didn't look like this guy. The motorcyclist didn't see the accident, but he said "I'll wait with you. I saw him getting belligerent. I'll wait with you till the cops get here". He stopped merely to protect me, to make sure I was safe from this guy. How nice was that? The cops arrived, got the witness accounts and my information. Then they talked to guy who hit me--who was such a dick that he was mouthing off to the cops! I'm standing next to my car, surveying the damage and I hear him say "Your car is fine, Lady". It's not. The cop standing with me says "Pipe down, you're not helping yourself here. You're really lucky, you know? It could have been a lot worse". He finally figured it out and shut up. And he is very lucky. If he had been 1 or 2 seconds faster, he would have passed in front of the northbound lanes, and with that 30-foot head start through the intersection, a car would have hit him, instead of him hitting a car--he could be dead. I'm sure he'll have a few bruises, and his insurance will probably go up after I take my car in for repairs, but he's alive. And I hope he learned his lesson and won't run a red light on a bicycle on a very busy 6-lane road again. And I have to thank the CMPD officers who responded. They were very nice. When we were done and getting ready to leave, one of them said "I'm sorry your day started like this. I hope it gets better for you". That's when I almost started to cry. When something bad happens in the world, like the shooting in Aurora, you lose a little bit of faith in the goodness of mankind. I am grateful to the people on Harbor Blvd this morning: my witnesses, my protector, and the cops--strangers who stopped to help me, and who made me believe again.

Trump National vs. Pelican Hill

I have been lucky enough to play two of the premier golf courses in Southern California: Trump National Los Angeles and Pelican Hill Newport Beach. They don't even begin to compare! At Pelican Hill they couldn't wait for us to leave and tried to shuffle us off the course at the 17th hole. We told them we were going to finish our round. God knows how rude they were to the foursome behind us! We even had to go to the mall down the street to get a post-round beer as they had closed the bar early! Guess they all wanted to get home. Trump National--totally different story. They could not have gone more out of their way to be friendly and accomodating. Range balls, water, and golf towels were included. Every single employee introduced themsleves and asked if they could be of any assistance and told us to push the button on the golf cart if we needed anything while on the course. (All I needed was a better game--and I don't think they could have fixed that!) Pelican Hill doesn't even have GPS on thier carts--shocking for a course charging $250 a round! Pelican bills itself as an ocean view course. If you carry around a postcard of Newport Beach, you'll see the ocean--otherwise, don't count on it. Trump National is truly on the ocean. It might be chilly and windy, just to test your game, but the ocean views from every single hole are spectacular! And best of all, Trump National plays like it's your own private course. We did not even see another golfer until the 16th, and then we just got a glimpse of them driving away from the hole as we were pulling up to tee off. If you are going to drop a shitload of money on golf in Southern California, go to Trump National--it's a great golf day!

My pet peeve--plastic bags and how to load them

All hail the LA City Council for becoming the largest city in the US to ban plastic grocery bags! Californians use 12 billion plastic bags a year and only 5% are recycled. I believe a contributing factor is that check-out clerks are trained improperly in loading bags. At Target a few weeks ago, I bought wine, crackers, and toothpaste, among other things. The trainee clerk was told to put my wine in one bag and the toiletries in another, and the food in another. I told the trainer clerk I only wanted one bag. She was very nice but still tried to put the wine in a separate bag. I had to repeat that I only wanted one bag--I only had a few items that were lightweight and easily fit into one bag. And last I checked, the crackers are inside a sealed bag, inside a sealed box. The wine is corked and the cork is sealed. The toothpaste is in a sealed tube inside a sealed box. I'm fine with sealed boxes touching each other for the ride home from the store. I went to Target again today. I bought milk, bandaids and vitamins. The clerk put the milk in a separate bag. I said "This is a waste of bags" and I put the bandaids and vitamins in with the milk. She said "Oh but they'll get wet." Seriously, lady??!! The bandaids are wrapped up inside a box, the vitamins are in a jar inside a box. The condensation from the milk carton won't hurt anything on my 5-minute drive home. And you know what? I got home and nothing was wet. Shocking! This inordinate amount of waste is why we need these bag ban laws on the books. If you've ever participated in a beach clean-up or trash pick-up event, you know that you collect tons of plastic bags. Even if you don't mean to pollute, when you toss them in the trash or a dumpster, they are so light, any amount of wind picks them up and carries them on the breeze until they get stuck in brush or trees or power lines. A car driving by moves them to a new location. They only stop blowing in the wind when they land in some body of water and pollute our lakes and oceans, or end up in the gutter only to be washed into the sewer and out to sea, therefore threatening the fragile ecosystems that sustain life. So I applaud the LA City Council and hope it starts the ball rolling to make this ban statewide. And once that happens, California can lead the way for the rest of the nation to follow in our bag-free footsteps!

What does a stolen car mean?

For as long as I can remember, or at least as long as I have lived in California, I have had a recurring dream that my car gets stolen. It's happened with different cars (but always my real car at the time), in different places, under different circumstances, with different people involved, but always the same theme. I had another one of these dreams last night. My car was stolen in 'downtown LA'--although the place certainly wasn't downtown LA. And all the dreams end the same: Whether friends, aquaintances or strangers are around, no one offers assistance, no one seems to care, and I am left trying to contact the police by myself. In last night's dream, in "downtown LA", I was going to give a ride home to a neighbor. In real life, this guy doesn't exist. I guess he was just a figment of my imagination. In the dream, when the car was gone, this 'neighbor" found another way home and left. Then I ran into a friend's brother, who does exist in real life. He was going to give me a ride home, but I had to keep arguing with him that I had to go to the police station. He finally understood and let me out of the car so I could report the crime to the cops. And then he was on his way. Then the dream ended--like they always do. I've never gotten to the point in the dream when the police come, or the car is recovered, or have any kind of conclusion. It just ends. I don't like it--it's very unsettling. So, today I researched dream interpretations on the internet. The few sites that had "car being stolen" listed, had the same interpretation. They said that dreaming about your car being stolen represents yourself and your ability to control your life, and that your personality is being taken away either through the loss of employment, a relationship, or other circumstance in which your sense of self plays a role. None of that applies to my life right now. At least I don't think it does. But I was telling a friend the other day that I am bored with everything in life and if I want to make it different, I need to do something different. Maybe the dream is telling me to go for it, that I do need to change my personality, my life, my sense of self. Now I just need to figure out who I am supposed to be. In the meantime, I'll keep locking my car doors.

$2 Billion dollars!

The big news here in Southern California, which you've all heard by now, is that the Dodgers sold for $2.15 billion dollars!! That is an unfathomable amount of moola. Just to comprehend that amount of money, divide $2 billion by your yearly salary. I know everyone reading my blog lives a relatively comfortable life, but how many THOUSANDS of years would it take you to make that kind of cash? Even if you make great money, you're probably looking at a 5-figure answer. It's shocking! I'm an Angels fan, but I have nothing against the Dodgers. I'm glad that Magic Johnson is part of the new ownership team. If my Angels don't win, I don't really mind if the Dodgers do--I'm happy with someone representing Southern California. And yes, my Angels spent a boatload of money too, on just one player, who I can't wait to see on opening night, but that's the problem--way too much money is spent in professional sports! Nearly a billion people on earth don't have access to clean, safe water and 3.5 million die every year of water-related disease. One in seven people on this planet don't know where their next meal is coming from, and some of them are probably your neighbors. Close to 600,000 people died of cancer in 2011 in the Untied States alone, and AIDS took over 1.5 million souls worldwide. What could we do with $2 billion dollars? We could provide water to the thirsty, food to the hungry, shelter for the homeless. We could shore up infrastructure in order to prevent another Katrina, we could work harder to find and implement alternative souces of energy and save our environment. We could educate the masses, cure disease. Hell, we could save the world! Instead, $2 billion bought a baseball team. Our priorities might be a little off, but this is our world, our reality. And we all have the ability to balance it out. Get out there and work at a soup kitchen, volunteer for a beach clean-up, teach an illiterate adult to read. Get involved in your community, pay attention to what is going on in the world, and for God's sake, vote! Just do something! Two billion is a lot of money for baseball, and Opening Day is next week. Go Angels!

Westminster Dog Show

This time of year always makes me wish I had a dog. The 2012 Westminster Dog Show is in the history books. The Grand Champion was the Pekingese, Malachy. I do like him--he made me laugh. It is impossible to watch that hairy little thing slowly waddle around the ring without laughing. I almost felt sorry for him making the cut to Best in Show because he'd have to make a few extra laps around the ring for the judge. It's a lot of walking for those little legs--and he lagged way behind the German Shepherd, Doberman and Dalmation. My all-time favorites, the Chinese Crested and Irish Wolfhound, never win, but my record was a lot better this year. Eight of the dogs I liked made it to the finals of their groups, and one, the Doberman, won her group! I picked a winner! And she was my overall favorite this year--beautiful dog. But the best part is that her name was Fifi! I mean, who names a vicious Doberman Fifi? I love it! It is so classic! This year I also paid attention to breeds that I thought would be good for me. I really like the Whippet, Manchester Toy Terrier, Canaan Dog, German Pinscher, and Standard Manchester. They are all small-to-medium size with short hair, dogs I could take for a long walk or a short run, who don't shed too much. But I'd need to win the lottery so I could buy a house with a yard before I could think about getting a dog. I guess I can always dream--and wait for Westminster next year.

The Jukebox at the Bar

I miss old fashioned jukeboxes. You know the kind--you hit a button and flip the 'pages' with pictures of album covers. You could play track 4 on side B of the album you bought because you liked the number one hit you heard on the radio, but track 4, side B became your favorite song. Years pass and you forget about that song, but on a jukebox, you could always find it again. The new high-tech jukebox at my favorite Irish bar is digital. Sure, it's pretty, it's fancy, it's new,and it has thousands of songs, but you basically have to know the song or artist you want to play. You can't flip through, see something you'd forgotten about, and think 'Wow, I used to love that song! I'll play it now'. It's just not as much fun, and it's a dollar a song!! So much for nostalgia!