Stranger in a strange land.

I work for a major arts non-profit in the financial district of Downtown L.A. It's always interesting when I need to do some banking.

Everywhere I look it's men with their Dior in navy or Armani in deep charcoal. There are power suits on women that are so powerful, that you can't look directly at them. These people are found in line in front of me, wearing Bluetooth headsets so naturally, that if they suddenly transformed into robots bent on subjugating humanity through clever ninja banking, I'd barely blink.

These people always spend so much time at the window, too. I suspect that they're doing complex transactions involving large sums of money and Geneva or Dubai or Kuala Lumpur.

It makes me feel inadequate - yet somehow amused - to approach the counter in my casual-plus dress and backpack. Especially when I ask for a roll of quarters so I can do laundry.