All of a sudden everyone wants to transfer to UCLA and hang out with Chad and Jude ALL THE TIME. Maybe in between classes, we could change dollars into quarters and practice Dance Dance Revolution Extreme for hours at the student center. And maybe I’d live in Los Feliz, and it wouldn’t be hard to remember that “Los Feliz” means “happiness,” and not “the cats,” because, clearly, “the cats” would be “los felines.” If I lived in Los Feliz we’d go have pie at the pie place with the big sign in the shape of a pie, or maybe we’d go to Fred 62 for a root beer float. And, oh, every day there’d be palm trees reaching for the sky like happiness.

Instead, we are grumpy, and about to board a jetBlue plane to the east.

Damn.

But, oh, maybe that’s okay too, because I graduate in two days, and maybe they’ll show an episode of the Smurfs on board.