soooo....I fucked up.

Driving down to the beach today, hit a traffic jam, had Maroon5 on the stereo, attention lapse for just a second, and BAM! I give the car in front of me a rather rough "love tap." So now some random LA guy has my name, my phone number and the number on my driver's license, and I'm hoping against hope he won't decide that the miniscule scratch I gave him costs thousands of dollars to repair. Dammit, dammit, dammit.
The beach itself was really fun--the sun was shining, the waves were glittering and I ended up walking around with a moderately attractive guy with some kind of speech impediment. Had it not been for the impediment, and the fact that he was very obviously trying to get into my pants ("So, what are you doing tonight? Is your dorm room a single?") things might've gotten somewhere. But...no.
Everything was picture-perfect until I decided to go back to my car...meaning I'd have to actually find the car. And I had No Frickin' Idea where I'd parked it. This meant a long trek around the streets of Santa Monica. After a while, I got desperate--and thirsty--so I stopped at a coffee shop for directions. I think the barista thought I was crazy.

Me: I need help. With directions.
Barista: OK, where are you trying to go?
Me: Um, my car. I don't know where it is.
Barista: (blank look)
Me: It's on a street...near the beach...with meters...
Barista: Meters, right.
Me (sudden flash of insight): There was a McDonalds! I think.
Barista: Let me get the manager.

After a long, long walk (I guess talking with Speech Impediment Man made my walk along the beach seem less far than it actually was) I made it. And I came to the realization that my parking space was right next to this Carribean restaurant I had eaten in when I went on my only other trip to Santa Monica with some people from Russian class at the very beginning of the semester. Why are things in my life always so maddeningly circular?