Thursday, 12 November 2009
Next morning I realised I'd lost my passport. Cue crying, hysteria, annoyance, and an afternoon spent in the copshop reporting it. I was really pissed off that I was going to have to spend a day queueing in the Embassy and pay serious $ to get it replaced. But that evening we went to Fred 62 for burgers to forget about it.
Driving home, I saw the above sign stuck to a tree. And screamed. James nearly crashed the car. But I couldn't believe it: someone had found my passport and posted up signs with their number! In LA! Supposedly big scary city!
Next morning we walked down the sunny hill to a house a few streets away, where the guy who found it lived. It was a gorgeous nabe but his house was a bit shack-like – I offered him some money to say thanks and he was like, 'Yeah, thanks, I'm a popper'. Er, what? 'A popper. I'm poor.' Ahh, pauper. Well, thanks popper. You saved my trip!
[I find that there's much more of a community spirit in the states than in the UK. People make signs, run food co-ops, leave food out for the homeless, leave books out to share. Craigslisting and freecycling is much more widespread over there. We really need to get on this over here.]
[Hanging out in the copshop was a hilarious and eye-opening experience. The officers were super polite and efficient. But they were BUSY so a bit stressed out. There must have been at least five people coming in to kick off about their ex picking up their child from school and breaking their custody order. But the best bit was when a young rookie came to ask the officer on the desk a question. He was all like, 'What? I'm busy!' The youngster said, 'Sorry, I was just wondering where to get the best pizza around here and they said you were the best person to ask', and the Sarge was all like, 'Oh! You should've said! So, you can go here, they have the best crust, or go here, they make the biggest pies...'. Classic.]