We’d like to thank Adam Smeaton for sharing this story.
In 1998, I packed my life into my Nissan 240SX and hit the road to California with dreams of becoming a rock star. My brother Josh was cool enough to make the cross country drive with me. It was an exciting trip, with America whizzing past me and visions of my new life in Los Angeles firing through my synapses.
The second day we were in L.A., we went to the In-N-Out Burger on Sunset. (There’s a rule that all new arrivals have to go there). Right when we sat down with our food, Josh did a double take. He finally leaned forward and whispered, “That’s Bill Murray.” Of course Josh was so excited that it was more like a shout straining with the hoarseness of a whisper. Continue reading
We’d like to thank Mark for sharing today’s story.
I had just moved to LA when I was pulled over by a police officer. My offense? Somebody took the registration tag off my license plate before I moved. My car was registered, though, so the officer let me go on my way, but told me I had to go to the DMV for a new tag. A few days later, I had an appointment at the local DMV in Santa Monica.
When called to the designated numbered stall to hand in my paperwork, I was met with a charge of 18 dollars. Sure, $18 doesn’t seem like a lot, but my feeling was “Why should I have to pay for someone stealing from me”. Giving my money to the DMV would be like being burglarized twice, except, for the second time, I just hand the thief cash. Continue reading