That left me two days of idle time before the Red Hat party. I spent the morning in my apartment pretending to program but couldn't stop going over the recent distractions in my head. A hat store evolved into a party company run by ghosts? It seemed ridiculous and macabre, but there was something else troubling about it. It was the first time, in my four years of chasing shades, that I had encountered any sort of true organization amongst their ranks. Did that mean that, all this time, I had only been concerning myself with the scrubs? I staved off my curiosity and ignored the internet for as long as I could. Once two o'clock hit, I knew I had to do something or risk losing all semblance of productivity. Since I couldn't readily do anything about Red Hat at the moment, I remembered my other little project. So, on the pretense of grabbing a late lunch, I grabbed my Hamilton pocket watch and jumped in my car. Los Angeles, much like Miami, is a driving city. The subway is great if you're going its way, but the sprawling neighborhoods of LA outrun the reach of the tunnels.
