The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
September 13, 2004

Stand By

I had to pick up Scotty G at the airport the other day and why he insists on flying into Long Beach is beyond me. I asked him once and he took a swing at me. So I was waiting, reading and noticed a young lady talking on her cell phone. She was loud and disconcerted. I couldn't help overhear her say that she never makes right turns on red. Never? Perhaps I jumped in the middle of the conversation but it sounded like she was a little tight in the pants. When Scooter finally showed he was happy to see me but he was also boozed up on the belly wash. Long story short we didn't make it home. He talked me into betting on the ponies. I ended up blowing a bill on a "sure thing" and as for Scooter he hit a trifecta and then made me take him back to the airport. Don't ask, that's my policy anyway.