This morning, in a San Luis Obispo apartment just outside of Cal Poly’s influence, Rachel Grande awoke to discover that despite her deepest convictions, the legends were true, 3AM actually existed.

Elsewhere, 6 hours into the future, Brian Wagner lazily awoke and began getting ready to head down to Santa Monica, where Rachel was now selling vegetables, over 200 miles from where she?d oh so hesitantly awoken.

Unfortunately, I only got to see Rachel briefly as her little booth was so packed that she didn?t get to take a break from all the retired people buying vegetables on this Wednesday morning. So I had to entertain myself.

First off, I decided I wanted to buy breakfast from one of the vendors at the farmer?s market. This proved more difficult than I would have thought as the vendors are more concerned with the largeness of their “ORGANIC” banner than supplying me with a finished, meal ready product. There?s plenty of raw material there, but nothing that, once eaten, you?d refer to nostalgically as “breakfast.” Eventually I found a small baked goods booth, manned by a polite, fast moving man that would have stood his ground among the best Aryan models of Hitler-era Germany. About 5’10”, blonde, well built and with his hair parted to the side, all he needed was a red armband to complete the look, though I do think the authentic German accent was going a little overboard. He even kept repeating “Achtung, Schiza!” as the line kept getting longer. I bought a chocolate covered croissant, which was exquisite.

On a side note, as I was pulling out of the parking complex to go home, I saw Miguel Ferrer and his kids enjoying a Wednesday morning stroll through his hometown of Santa Monica. He was walking in front of my car rather slowly, so there was plenty of time for me to go through the stages of “OHMYGOD THAT?S!!!,” to “nahhh, couldn?t be,” and eventually deciding “that?s either Miguel or somebody cloned him.” Living in Southern California can be weird sometimes.