The other night I went to
Mashti Malone's for some ice cream. If I had to pick a place for the best ice cream in Los Angeles this would be it hands down, but that really isn't the point of my story. The ice cream parlor is in what I would call a questionable neighborhood. Due to prostitution activity in the area you are not allowed to park on the local side streets. With this in mind I knew that if I didn't get a spot in the Mashti designated area, I might be denied my peanut butter cup goodness. I pulled into the lot with Sarah and Monkey in tow and as luck would have it the only spot available was designated for the liquor store next door. I decided to ask the liquor store manager quite politely if he wouldn't mind terribly if I parked in his spot for a few moments while I ran in to get my delicious dessert. He begrudgingly gave me permission, so we parked, left Monkey in the backseat and off we went for sugar cones. Did I mention I love this place?
After a few moments of deciding on one scoop or two (heart attack or stroke), I found myself enjoying my cone while looking out the window. Not more than 30 seconds go by (three licks, tops), before an older Chevy Blazer comes flying into the parking lot, smoke billowing from the windows, spare tire chained to the roof, and driver clearly intoxicated. As he comes to a complete stop in front of my car, what might have been the entire Los Angeles police department has entered the lot. Before I know it, guns are drawn, the driver of the Blazer is laying face down in front of my car before being carried off in cuffs. After I was 90% sure that all guns were reholstered, I walked outside to see what was going on. I was slightly freaked out that while the police were screaming "on the ground" my dog never bothered sticking his head out the window to see what was going on. Hell, he didn't even wake up. Apparently the driver of the Blazer ran over a pedestrian a few blocks away and figured pulling in for an ice cream was the next logical step to his evening. As I stood there thinking how lucky I was that I had gotten into the lot before the cops blocked the entrance, things took a turn for the worse. Someone in the parking lot told me the Blazer clipped the front of my car before coming to a stop. Once again why didn't the dog wake up? Thankfully there was no damage to the dog or the car but I did give the police my info just in case. Right before I left, the liquor store manager came out and said, "I told you not to park in my spot." I love Los Angeles.
The dog in question
The other night I went to Mashti Malone's for some ice cream. If I had to pick a place for the best ice cream in Los Angeles this would be it hands down, but that really isn't the point of my story. The ice cream parlor is in what I would call a questionable neighborhood. Due to prostitution activity in the area you are not allowed to park on the local side streets. With this in mind I knew that if I didn't get a spot in the Mashti designated area, I might be denied my peanut butter cup goodness. I pulled into the lot with Sarah and Monkey in tow and as luck would have it the only spot available was designated for the liquor store next door. I decided to ask the liquor store manager quite politely if he wouldn't mind terribly if I parked in his spot for a few moments while I ran in to get my delicious dessert. He begrudgingly gave me permission, so we parked, left Monkey in the backseat and off we went for sugar cones. Did I mention I love this place? 
After a few moments of deciding on one scoop or two (heart attack or stroke), I found myself enjoying my cone while looking out the window. Not more than 30 seconds go by (three licks, tops), before an older Chevy Blazer comes flying into the parking lot, smoke billowing from the windows, spare tire chained to the roof, and driver clearly intoxicated. As he comes to a complete stop in front of my car, what might have been the entire Los Angeles police department has entered the lot. Before I know it, guns are drawn, the driver of the Blazer is laying face down in front of my car before being carried off in cuffs. After I was 90% sure that all guns were reholstered, I walked outside to see what was going on. I was slightly freaked out that while the police were screaming "on the ground" my dog never bothered sticking his head out the window to see what was going on. Hell, he didn't even wake up. Apparently the driver of the Blazer ran over a pedestrian a few blocks away and figured pulling in for an ice cream was the next logical step to his evening. As I stood there thinking how lucky I was that I had gotten into the lot before the cops blocked the entrance, things took a turn for the worse. Someone in the parking lot told me the Blazer clipped the front of my car before coming to a stop. Once again why didn't the dog wake up? Thankfully there was no damage to the dog or the car but I did give the police my info just in case. Right before I left, the liquor store manager came out and said, "I told you not to park in my spot." I love Los Angeles.
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