I arrive at the Tea Garden at 11:15 am. I was supposed to be there at 11:00. I hate being late. I take a deep breath and put on my “professional face,” which was just contorted into my “stressed out LA driver face,” 25 seconds earlier. I walk in with a big smile, shake Dr. Tea’s hand, note the orange lab coat, pull out my notebook and get my pen poised for action.“Let’s sit down and have some tea,” he says. I’m ready to start scribbling interview notes when I look up to see he’s calmly peering down at me, with a little smirk. I’ve barely had a chance to focus my eyeballs after speeding along the 101, tearing down La Cienega and fumbling through my purse for bottom-feeder change to stuff in the meter. I only came up with a nickel and three dimes. Crap.“A lot of the passion is centered around reading my clients,” Dr. Tea explains, knowingly. “Ninety percent of the time, I’m right.”