Los Angeles, 1997: I'm in SoCal on the same mom-daughter vacation mentioned above. Mom had a friend in Huntington Beach, so we stayed with her a few days while we explored LA and Orange County. We were in LA itself, it was the Fourth of July, and mom wanted to drive around Beverly Hills to gawp at the mansions. We did so, and got slightly lost. I was in charge of reading the map, but it's hard to figure out where you are on the map when there aren't any street signs.
Normally, LA is signposted pretty well, but the street we were on didn't have a sign. Santa Monica Blvd was right in front of us, but I didn't know what street we were ON. We're at a red light, and a cop car pulls up next to us. Remembering how polite the cop was in SD, I rolled down the window and waved at the cop in the next car. He rolls the window down, and I said, "Excuse me officer, where are we?" while gesturing at the map in my hand. He rolls his eyes, snorts, and says "Beverly Hills." The light turns green and he sped off. I was like...excuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me!!!!
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