As I drove the streets of East Costa Mesa tonight on my way home, I saw a gentleman walking down Santa Avenue. He was a typical local: fiftyish Mexican man, stubbly beard, big potbelly, wifebeater shirt, and Mexican Chef Pants (checkered polyester down to the middle of the shoe). Ordinarily I would hardly notice a guy like that.
But he was POWER WALKING. Like some fitness-crazed O.C. soccer mom.
The world is a wonderful place.