Reunification at the Indian Buffet

My friend Claire, who I really love, who lives in San Diego, who is moving back to New York in a month, who I haven't seen in over a year, who didn't know really where I work or what I'd be doing, calls me up at 1:15 p.m. this afternoon and is like "I'm in LA, I'm not sure what part. I was just at the French Consulate renewing my passport. You want to meet up for lunch?"

I'm like, "Well...LA's pretty large, but maybe you can come to Westwood? Give me the cross streets where you are. I'll Mapquest it."

She's all "hmmmm....Gailey and Weyburn. There's a Chevron station coming up."

"Gailey and Weyburn?? What the heck?!?"

So I look out my window and there is Claire's infamously turquoise '96 Camaro that her father-in-law bought during his mid-life crisis a few years ago, but gave to Claire and her husband Ben because he was too embarrassed to keep it.

"Holy shit! I can see you! There's a bicycle passing in front of your car?"

"Yeah! You can see me? Where are you??"

"Pull into the Chevron station. Wanna go get some Indian buffet?"

True Story.