"Shut up Dana and keep your head out of my line of vision, for God’s sake! I can’t see the side mirror!" Alice swerved and merged into the lane at Dana’s right side.

"Fuck Alice, if you can’t see the mirror don’t merge!" Shane screamed as her paper cup popped its top and coffee splashed down the front of her shirt.

"What part of ‘I need to get to LA as soon as possible’ don’t you get?! Fuckwits!" Alice yelled the last part out of the window at the other speeding cars.

The passengers in the car kept silent, trying not to distract Alice who was weaving the Mini-Cooper in and out of traffic like a skilled seamstress darning a dress. Finally, the small car screeched to a stop in front of The Planet. Alice parallel parked by braking hard and deftly turning the wheel nearly 180 degrees. The car slid into the spot easily, belying the near-catatonic terror of the two passengers within. The driver honked the horn thrice in quick succession, drawing a smattering of applause from the cafe patrons. She sketched a bow and bumped her head lightly on the vintage koosh ball swinging wildly from the rearview mirror.

"Oh God Alice I think you need to get your car seat covers dry cleaned, like, pronto." Dana moaned as she peeled herself off the clingy pleather. She peered back and almost collasped in relief when she did not, in fact, relieve herself on the seat as she had thought three intersections ago.

Shane muttered and threw the coffee cup with its cheap instant coffee brew in a garbage bin near the entrance of The Planet. "Finally, real coffee. I can almost kiss you for making me spill that cup on myself." Shane was only half-sarcastic.

"Yeah yeah, thank me later. We need to call Bette ASAP."

The trio made their way inside and took a corner table. Kit waved and started pouring their customary orders.

"So," Shane exhaled tiredly. Mornings were not her time of day. "What’s all this about Alice? I was just starting to get into the whole rustic retreat for dyke pals thing."

As research for her latest magazine assignment, Alice had cajoled, begged, bribed, and finally just dragged two of her best friends for a woodlands retreat in Santa Rosa. She wanted to experience, then write about, the latest fad among WeHo lesbians: camping out in the woods with close friends, shunning modern conveniences and braving the elements with just tents and sleeping bags. It was supposed to be a true test of friendship and an exercise in empowerment. The promoters called it Female Bond-age.