Hmm.

I drove to work so groggy from lack of sleep; this whole hour-ahead thing is wreaking havoc on my normal circadian rythyms. I had two cups of coffee to wake up, and as my punishment I nursed a low-grade headache all day long.

Driving home, it poured. I won't even go into how Californians drive when it rains. It's an old topic. It's beyond old. They can't drive. Some go too fast, some go too slow, everyone but *you* is a menace behind the wheel. We get it. Ugh.

Yet I am guilty of that myself, or at least have been. But today I vow to bite my tongue when I choose to complain about others on the road. I am not at my best behind the wheel anyway, especially when I become agitated. Truly, not my finest hour.

And still...just when I make this decision to be more graceful with other drivers in the rain, I am cut off by this, this, this THING in a huge silver SUV. Careening over the white dashed line as if it were a mere suggestion, I swerved to avoid a sideswipe. I looked over to see who is not paying attention today, and it was the Ultimate Bad Driver. I haven't seen an actual UBD before in my life, not in person, and I really though the UBD was a myth. Sort of like Nessie, or Bigfoot. I mean really; is there a person alive who actually eats dripping, messy fast food tacos while also text-messaging on a cell phone while they drive? In the rain? By herself in an SUV? And today my question was answered. There is a person such as this, and she looks down at her lap because it just got a nice plopful of sour cream and salsa in it. Red light? What red light? I should have taken a picture, but I'm sure it would have just been blurry and smudged, just like all those pictures of Nessie and Bigfoot. Besides, I was driving. Hands on the wheel, of course.

I pull into my block and I'm prevented from parking on the street by two large trucks and SUVs. I realize it had been flooding on my street earlier, but what was this all about? I maneuver around the large vehicles and I'm face-to-car face with a cop car. There is a cop leaning against the door, and three scrubby-dressed men all about age 40ish standing near him. As I get closer I realize they all have badges on chains around their necks. Plainclothesmen. Another cop car cruises down the street from the other direction, and parks behind the first car. I roll my window down as a pleasant, yet hard-looking, plainclothes cop leans over towards me. I ask if it's safe to park, and he says yes, just a little down the road please.

I park and get out, and the path I must take to get to my apartment forces me to walk right through this gaggle of goons. They all look up and watch me cross the street, smiling pleasantly, if not a bit flirtatiously. And I think...what is going on, really now? I get my answer when one uniformed cop says to another, all authoritatively, "Get her out of the back and search her." Out of the back of the second cop car, a youngish Hispanic woman wearing handcuffs is pulled out. She struggles a bit and resists searching, but calms down and lets them search her. I don't watch. I keep my eyes down and head to my door. I look up at the windows in my courtyard; every neighbor has their curtains drawn, but has a hand peeking through a crack. Everyone watches, but no one wants to be seen, voyeurs of schadenfreude, hidden in shadows.