After yet more driving, we found ourselves in Santa Monica, staying with a friend of mine named David. I've only actually met him once before, the first time I was in Vegas, and this lack of knowledge about my real character meant that he was more than happy to offer us lodging for as many days as we wanted. We settled for three.
The journey from Las Vegas to L.A. was, by the standards of the rest of the trip, a short one during which, I had another run in with US customs, or some uniformed chap anyway. When crossing into California, we were stopped by an official looking fella at a check point, asking if we were bringing any fruit in to the state. I answered 'no' at precisely the same time that Jules answered 'yes'. So, he asked again. At this point, I remembered the bag of oranges that we had bought earlier in the week. The all too familiar fear began to coarse through my veins as he asked again if we were carrying any fruit. The ...Read the full article