As I sit here writing on a weekend while watching Sex and the City, something about this episode got me thinking.
This is the episode when Miranda feels insulted by the lady at the Chinese Food Restaurant so she hangs up the phone and hikes right over to tell her off. Only she learns that the woman wasn’t judging her but she sees Steve in the restaurant and decides to stay for dinner. This time ordering something different than her usual.
What got me was the fact that she hung up the phone and stormed right on over.
Like that was her neighborhood. Her home. Her stomping grounds.
I got to thinking about last Saturday. I was meeting a friend at Venice Beach for a mid morning bike ride.
I left my mom’s house WAY in the desert, heading up the 60 Freeway. I made a stop beforehand to drop my cousin off at the train station. She was heading to Barstow to spend a week with her daughter. But listen to this… We arrived kind of early still and I really wanted a Coffee Bean white chocolate latte with soy. But those Riverside people were out early and there was just no running in and out. Couldn’t find a park and the place was already crowded.
Stick with me.
So, I dropped her off without getting coffee OR food in my system and headed up to LA.
Here’s the thing.
At first I decided to take the 60 on into downtown but when I saw the 60 beginning to stack up near the 605, I whipped over to the right got on the 605 going south to the 105 west to the 405 north, but I thought about getting off on La Cienega but I only had a few seconds to decide. I figured, why get off, stay on because the stop lights might hold me up longer than a little traffic that was moving slow but fast enough.
So… My friend texted me and said she was trying to find parking. I told her, I’m close and will be there shortly. Now, why could I say this????
Because LA is MY city!
I took the 405 to the 90 W. Got off on Lincoln heading north, made a left on Washington. While all the other, non locals, kept up Washington towards Ocean Ave, I made a right on Abbott Kinney–no traffic on a mid-morning Saturday. Even a holiday weekend. I go up Abbot Kinney and find a park near Broadway like (finger snap) THAT fast.
And you know what, I had these short shorts on a blousy tank top to minimize the slut factor. But I felt comfortable. You know. I would NEVER feel comfortable wearing that outside ANYWHERE else but LA.
Moving on… So we road the bikes for like 30 to 45 minutes. For me, I was too dang hungry to go any further and my friend was just over it already! 🙂 And yeah, so was I actually.
So, we go get something to eat.
And here’s another thing….
Everybody knows that the Sidewalk Cafe is supposed to be one of “the” spots on the boardwalk. Since I saw it featured on Travel Channel and stuff, I figured, hey, I don’t live here anymore, let me do what the tourists do!
We got in there. The flies. The MILLIONS of tourists from everywhere, very NON LA–and you can tell, we decided to ditch that place after being seated. We had to get away from those tourists and the best way to do that in Venice is venture up to Abbot Kinney.
We ate at Hals. Not crowded but well attended. See, we LA people NEED SPACE. The place has to make some REALLY good food or coffee or something for us to choose to sit up under each other, stacked like flies on…. Or, Brad Pitt or Ron Howard had been spotted there last week. LOL! And you know, the locals aren’t looking around, acting all touristy or needy. I can’t explain it. We’re just there, for a reason other than NEEDING to be out.
Anyway, I bought a purse and got my nose re-pierced. I think because I felt so LA again! Crazy. I felt like the old me. I felt sexy and free and fresh. Like I was floating through time.
Did I leave LA too early?
Is that place Me?
The place with THE WORST men on the planet? Sorry guys, but true. And, yeah, the women are a little wacky there too but hey… We are all in it together!
I wonder, if San Diego will feel like home….
I’ll have a year to figure it out.
When my lease is up…. Who knows. All I know is, no matter how I feel about LA it’s my city. My home. I know it like the face that looks back at me in the mirror. From Long Beach to Lakewood to Hollywood to Inglewood to Santa Monica to Los Feliz to Pasadena… and on and on…
And guess what–on the way back to the desert, I drove right over to the Coffee Bean in Marina Del Rey. Parked. Not crowded but only attended by those who were either writing or doing classwork–I was right, no coffee shop culture in LA. I HATE that about Seattle. A coffee shop is a writer’s refuge!