Back in LA we met up with some friends who lived there and went out for a nice dinner in West Hollywood, before driving back to the ACTUAL GHETTO where we were staying.
Here's a little picture as we stopped for emergency snacks on the way home:
During dinner, I opened a fortune cookie to reveal a highly accurate message from the baking gods, albeit two months late...
On the way home, "the driver" (I'm not saying if it was Dave or Hannah) made a dodgy turn into a gas station and the police pulled us over. It went like this:
Cop: Licence and registration please.
(driver gets out of car and stands up)
Cop: WHAT ARE YOU DOING???
Driver: Getting my licence out... I can't get to it sat down.
Cop: Get back in the car. (Studies licence. Long pause.) I don't understand. If this is a UK licence, what makes you think you can drive here?
Driver: It's a rental car. We're allowed to drive it.
Cop: Where are the rental papers?
Driver: Hang on. (Pause) We don't actually have them. But we can get them.
Cop: Have you been drinking?
Driver: No, nothing. The other three people in the car have, but I haven't.
Cop: Are you sure about that?
Cop: Wait here. (Walks off and comes back five minutes later). Do you know David Beckham?
Driver: Not personally.
Cop: You're fine to go. But watch those left-hand turns.