los angeles, almost. whittier exactly. my house, my back yard, one or two restaurants that have decent food and an outdoor area for grownups who smoke. heated in winter and shaded in summer. my last cruise. i am in the back of the ship (aft) in the smoking section with the wind blowing over the back (aft) of the ship out to sea. i could only see this rush of smoke going away. some female idiot asked me if i could move, the smoke was bothering her. there is no way to respond. f**k off doesn't do it, i'm sorry, my dear, this is the smoking section doesn't do it. there is no way to deal with rude people, they have an invisible armor that can't be dealt with. any response you make, only affects you. i hope there is a special place in hell where the restrooms are out of toilet paper, there is only one teller at the bank and she is working the drive up window, and one grocery clerk and these people are all asking each other, " i only have 2 things, can i get in front of you." and they are all writing checks or using food stamps.