Infinite Midlife Crisis

A midlife crisis spawns a flurry of content. You are the beneficiary. Congratulations!

A God’s Eye View of the Heated Forest

The first red flag was at a stoplight on Wilshire. Driving into the hideous setting sun, gridlocked near Sepulveda. I was dry-crying, nearly hyperventilating, chanting: “Help me God help me God help me God.”

The second red flag was also at a stoplight on Wilshire, two weeks and four hours later. This time heading east. The stoplights were blinking red. A police officer in a yellow traffic vest was directing cars.

“Maybe I should be a police officer,” I actually said out loud, to no one.

Perhaps I’d been unduly influenced by the evening I’d just spent with FBI agents in Westwood—a story best saved for another time—but it wasn’t the federal law enforcement that had inspired me. What really lit my fuse on that blustery October evening was the traffic cop waving cars across Crescent Drive at 9pm.

A few blocks later, another brilliant idea started to take hold: “Maybe I could go back to school and become a private investigator.”

This is called a midlife cri…