Heather actually lives in Redlands, not L.A., which for her is a short drive.  For me, it’s halfway across my native country.  We drove east and finally stopped at the Loma Linda Baker’s for hamburgers and a bathroom stop.  I sat down on the toilet seat with a loud crack, which I put down to not sitting down very gently and perhaps a missing rubber damping element, until I felt the wetness on my thighs.  Fortunately, Julie had lent me Captain Underpants two or three years ago, so I immediately knew what had happened: I had become a victim of a squishy!  A squishy is something I find exquisitely funny to think about but would never actually perpetrate on anyone.  It’s done by folding one of those plastic condiment bags from fast food joints double and placing it between the toilet seat and the bowl rim.  Sit on it and CRACK the squishy squishes out your condiment of choice at high speeds in apparently a random direction, because although the squishy in Captain Underpants was a ketchup squishy aimed to soil the victim’s underpants, the hot sauce squishy in my case shot its load inward and left my clothing unsullied.  Maybe whoever planted it had mercy on my clothes, or maybe they were clueless about how to set it up (and I don’t imagine they did a lot of trial runs on themselves), or maybe they wanted it to squirt inward onto naked skin, because hot sauce might sting.  (It does, slightly.)  I was glad that with enough toilet paper the mess was quickly history.  I also thought it was sort of cool to have experienced a squishy.

We dumped my stuff (this is no longer referring to the toilet) at Heather’s apartment and took off to pick up her boyfriend Kurt and drive to the Dodgers game.  We got there a bit late due to an initial mix-up between the Dodgers and the Angels, but what does that matter in baseball anyway.  Tommy Lasorda was turning 80 and everyone got a Tommy Lasorda Bobblehead – I passed mine straight on to the guy who’d organised the tickets.  The Dodgers won and I got to see my first live home run.  Thank you, Nomar.  I also got to miss one while standing in line at the concession stand, where I spotted a sign inviting people to ask for the customer relations feedback form.  I did, and confused the cashier, who had to ask for backup just to understand my request, which backup then had to go root around in boxes in the back somewhere and finally came out with a feedback form and two extras (for the next nutcases) just as we were about to take off with our food and drinks.  I also walked over to the lady who was offering free Dodgers shirts for people who applied for a credit card, but unlike the Discovery Card guy in Durham this lady had no sympathy with my plight of not being eligible for the credit card and I scored no shirt.

The Dodgers ended up winning by 7:4, and we stayed the whole game, even though the fifth inning had decided it all.  After walking back across the humongous parking lot we drove home – again at least 90 minutes, but I think I can’t complain because just as on the ride back from the airport I kept nodding off.  I fell asleep instantly on Heather’s couch.