Music to read this post by: “Who Did You Think I Was (Live At The Nokia Theatre)” – John Mayer Trio

There’s a lot of hand-wringing in Los Angeles these days around the aggressive tactics that photographers use to get very valuable images of famous people

LOS ANGELES (Reuters) – Officials from around Los Angeles, joined by celebrities such as singer John Mayer, met on Thursday to discuss how to fix what some see as a growing problem of paparazzi dangerously hounding Hollywood stars.

L.A. officials at odds over reining in paparazzi

And, Mayer posted his statement on one of his blogs:

I don’t sit before you today to ask that you ban the paparazzi. I’m asking you to regulate it.

John Mayer’s “Testimonial”.

It is true that Mayer is well-known to be a photography enthusiast. He’s a better photographer than I am, damn him.

But, I think it’s a little silly when folks call for increased laws against (or to regulate) paparazzi, their main arguments focus around how the paps break existing laws. Why not focus on enforcing existing laws? Eight cars running a red light? Guess what? You don’t need a new law to stop that. Licensing paps? They already have a driver’s license they’re not adhering to. Trespassing? It’s already a crime. If those existing laws are not enforced, then address your energy towards changing the culture of law enforcement that allows such selective enforcement of existing law, rather than make additional laws and bureaucracy that will be at once guaranteed to be poorly worded such that non-paparazzi photographers somehow will be additionally persecuted, and mostly ignored by the unscrupulous photogs that break laws now.

Also, here’s John Mayer leaving Samy’s Camera on Fairfax. No confrontation here. I just think it’s neat he was at one of the camera shops I go to.

Early Friday afternoon and I get text message from Sarah: Can you make a 7:30 movie at Arclight?

As soon as I get it, I call her back: Yes I can make it! We’re going to see Dark Knight with her Dad — key clue #1. Excellent. She tells me she is taking the train there — key clue #2.

So the day goes on, and I’m in a great mood. Grind out some work and then a little after 6, I head out. I have to make it up the 405 though Friday rush hour to the Sherman Oaks Arclight near our apartment. I battle traffic, busses, bikes. I don’t even get impatient, I’m just happy. I just know it will all work out just fine.

I just barely miss a traffic break on the ramp from the 10 to the 405. I’m the last car they let through. I’m so golden.

The 405 is slow, but with an inspiring regularity to the slowness. It’s like this all the time. I can count on its lurching plod through the Sepulveda pass and up over the hill. As every other driver notices, every other driver is a complete moron. But this time, for the millionth miracle, we all fail to crash into each other.

I exit Ventura, I sit through the 5th longest light in America. It’s 7:08. I’m feeling smooth and confident.

I get my ticket to enter the parking garage. The line stretches around the corner and up the ramp out of sight. And it ain’t moving. I don’t get worried. I’m listening to John Mayer. It’s all good. After two minutes thing get going. I’m up the ramp. I’m passing dozens of cars with their turn signals waiting for a spot, as I ascend to the much more sedate upper level.

I park.

I sit in the car waiting through the guitar solo in the live version of “Gravity.” I can afford it, it’s only 7:16! I can’t describe the feeling of things being right in the world. Great music, about to see my great girlfriend, and see an undoubtedly great movie. I get out and make my way. It’s a long walk through the Galleria to the theater. I decide to call Sarah and make sure she didn’t get stuck somewhere. She did say she was taking the train.

The train?

There is no train to the Sherman Oaks Galleria. I hadn’t really thought about it. Surely she meant the Orange Line bus that uses its own bus corridor. It’s very much like a train, doesn’t use the streets.

She picks up as I’m walking past Fuddruckers. She’s already here! Great! I’m almost there, I say, and hang up. I go past Ben & Jerry’s and the pieces all slot into place at once. There’s no train to Sherman Oaks, but the train does go to Hollywood, to the Hollywood Arclight. Her dad wouldn’t come up to the Sherman Oaks Arclight, would he? I call Sarah back.

Umm, what Arclight are you at?

Five minutes later I’m in line to exit the parking garage. It’s a long line and it’s not moving. I’m completely still. I’m experiencing a deep self-directed fury that rages in my center and causes my whole being to ache and spasm. But, on the outside I am a rock. I go home and take the dogs for a walk. A long walk.