1. DIAMOND LANE STICKERS
It's going to be hard, in the far future, conveying the
incredible smugness of Prius ownership in the first decade of this century. For
a few years there, the Toyota Prius was nearly the only SULEV (Super Low
Emissions Vehicle) on the road, offering all the haughty superiority of a bike
with all the seats and AC and awesomeness of a car. In sharp contrast, all other vehicles on the road - including all those hippie-owned, soot-belching
VWs - were revealed as monstrous gas guzzlers. Owning a Prius in the aughties
was a fast track to self-righteousness.
It was also a fast track to the fast track. California
awarded Prius owners with Diamond Lane stickers. These deceptively
flimsy decals clung to our bumpers with some super-strong, secret government
adhesive, and made our futuristic cars 2% more futuristic. They also allowed
solitary Prius drivers access to the car pool lanes. Can you imagine the unique
self-satisfaction of zipping through clogged traffic in your own private
freeway lane? Of course you can't. You don't drive a Prius. Or you don't live
in California. Or you live in some year later than 2011 and your car is powered
by Hydrogen or yard trimmings and you don't have to worry about air pollution.
Anyway, the dream died in July. You can thank CA vehicles
codes 5205.5 and 21655.9. Also the new PZEV (Partial Zero Emissions Vehicle)
cars. And your own indifference to my moral superiority. All of you guys killed
the dream. Congrats.
2. BORDERS
Why do (other people's) bankruptcies make me so happy? And
why does the specific bankruptcy of Borders Books make me so especially happy?
I spent many nights in the Borders of Montclair, CA. I read a lot of their
books, drank a lot of their coffee, sat through a quake in their leather
chairs. I shopped at many Borders in many parts of the country. I never held my miserable one month of employment against them.
So it's weird that I get a little thrill whenever I pass
their exit on the freeway and see that big, bare retail space. And who pays to
keep all their lights on?
I love shit like this. It's messed up.
3. SCULLY
I was kind of disoriented the night I arrived in California,
twelve years ago. I retrieved all my worldly possessions - a duffel bag of
clothes and two frightened cats - from a crowded baggage carousel, and realized
with a rough jolt that I no longer owned keys. My girlfriend picked me up and
drove us to my future in-laws' house at 1 AM. I was jet lagged, freaked, and
slightly stunned that I had actually renounced the entire east coast of
America.
All this may explain why I immediately locked us out of the
house. It was far too late to wake anyone up. I skulked around the bushes near
the kitchen, noticed one of the windows was unlocked, hoisted myself up, and
stealthily popped out the screen. I was halfway inside when a large labrador mutt ran up
at face level. It was Scully. We'd met once before, but I didn't know if he was
the kind of dog who would rip out an intruder’s throat. I froze. We exchanged a
long, meaningful glance. Slowly - tentatively - his tale wagged.
We were good pals for the next dozen years. My wish now is
that he gets to live in the neighborhood of Dog Heaven where Vincent Price and
Elizabeth Taylor hand out t-bone steaks every hour and cartoon fire hydrants
dance the fandango on every street corner. Farewell, sport.
