Am I kidding me? I am moving from my beloved New York City to Los Angeles in two weeks. I need to write it one more time. I am moving to Los Angeles in two week’s time.
I was there for the first time two weeks ago on business. “There sure is a lot of concrete in Los Angeles,” thought I while driving to my hotel from the airport. “How do people live here without any seasons?” Next thing I knew, my company made me an offer I can’t refuse and voila, I’m moving to Los Angeles.
It’s not just the pavement and perfect weather. But might I mention without reprisal that when it never rains you never get to rid yourself of the sadness that builds up during perfect weather? A sad movie. A sad book. Someone’s sad story. All those things build up in me and when the weather’s bad, I hole up at home and cry for a few hours and love the feeling afterward that has to be like Catholic confession. I will miss bad weather. Sigh.
I have friends in Los Angeles. My dear friends Victor and Cathryn are in Los Angeles and they have a pool which would be nice to swim in. Ok, that’s a plus. I think some of my high school friends are in Los Angeles and I haven’t seen them in forty years. I’m sure we still have plenty in common.
I was the largest and most saggy-faced person in Los Angeles last week. I found myself running into chairs at other tables in restaurants. I finally figured out that they can get more tables in their restaurants in Los Angeles because they have only very thin people who don’t take up as much space as they do in New York City.
A friend and his wife were meeting me for brunch.
“Come over, see the house and we’ll walk to this great restaurant in Venice to have brunch.”
“Sounds great,” said foolish me. “How far is the restaurant?”
“It’s not far at all. Two miles. We do it all the time, and it’s a lovely walk.”
“Do you have any idea who you are talking to? I’m not walking two miles to eat some bean sprouts with a touch of lemon peel thrown on top, and then back again. Are you high? Do they have burgers in Venice?”
Needless to say, I drove from their house to the restaurant and my friend drove with me while his wife walked and left earlier than us. But not as early as I would have left if I were walking. Gads, these are not my people!
But I have an open mind about it all, don’t you think?
Then I woke up to the news that the fires are raging eleven miles from downtown Los Angeles, and I kept thinking, “What city was it that was burning way back when? Oh yeah, I remember. Atlanta was burned to the ground during the civil war. Great.” I talked to a friend from there later today. He said you just have to stay away from North Los Angeles and you needn’t worry about the fires. Well, I do worry about fires burning in cities that have no way out. Just like I would worry about water levels if I lived in New Orleans. Let’s not even start on the earthquakes.
They apparently have great sports teams in Los Angeles. That’s a good thing. They have good teams in New York City as well, though, and I haven’t been to a sporting event in ten years. Nonetheless, I could learn to love tall people throwing balls in baskets just above their heads and then running and trying to do it again. It could happen.
I need to face facts. I’m moving to a city in a state whose governor can’t pronounce and is more bankrupt now than Enron. The Housewives of Orange County are nowhere near as cool as the Housewives of New York City (you take pride in whatever you can when you come from New York). And, to top it off, they don’t have lilac bushes.
I think I’ll be fine. Good decision. Good decision.