There's something beautifully dirtbag about setting an alarm the night before—not for church, not for a flight, not even a hike—just to make sure you beat the rush at the titty-centric coffee shop.
Eight a.m. on a Sunday. The pews are still warm from the 7 AM service of churches all around Los Angeles, and yet, I was pulling up to Los Angeles’ first (in a long time) Bikini Coffee Shop: Tanlines.
I wasn't first. A cop had beaten me to it—a five-foot-flat little man, blue line on his license plate—already posted up, as our tax dollars had personally funded his oat milk latte. Champing at the bit to have three beautiful women be nice to him.