Most of the time. But there are little things. Things. Things that drive me completely fucking crazy. And it seems that they all happened to me today. For the record, I grew up in Texas with wide open spaces and fields and pastures and small towns. I couldn’t wait to get out. I was a cityboy before I had ever seen a city. Now I would kill to spend 10 minutes in a pasture. So I can’t help but compare some of the things I hate about LA to my home state of Texas.
Number 1. Parking. In Texas you may have to park kinda far away as parking lots are fucking gigantic, but you are never in danger of not being able to park at all. Like today at the Farmers Market. I needed fish and wanted to get lunch. But there were no spots available in the middle of a workday. None. I had to wait about 20 minutes to find a spot. That means that I had to waste 20 minutes of my 2 hours free validation just waiting. I didn’t plan on being in there more than 1 hour 40 minutes, but it just sucked that I had to think about it and have the little anxiety about not having any cash on me and getting caught at the parking tollbooth and not having the $2 to get out. Also today. I had to go to the post office in Hollywood. Because of my eBaying I am going to the PO everyday, but I usually go in Burbank which isn’t quite as bad. I pay the parking meter (umm, no parking lot at the fucking post office) which has a 30 minute maximum. That’s OK, that means that they are trying to keep those spots for Post Office Patrons only. The problem is that they only have 3 FUCKING windows open so you are bound to be in line for more than 30 minutes and you are checking your watch cellphone every 5 minutes because you don’t don’t don’t want any more parking tickets. In Texas you might hate being at the Post Office too, but you will never be in fear of it costing you $45 in expired meter tickets.
2. Don’t stand so close to me. New York is worse on this one, which is a big reason that I could never live there. And this guy at the Post Office kinda looked New Yorky. He was in line behind me and was really really close to me. The post office is big, it isn’t as though we ae stuffed in a train during rush hour. To make it worse, he was chewing gum loudly. To make it even worse, I could smell his gum. It wasn’t even freshbreathy gum like spearmint, it was like grape or cherry or someting. And the sound and the smell were making me want to turn around and say, “Look Bubble-icious, take 2 fucking steps backward and give me my fucking space” but I realized that 2 social faux pas (how in the fuck do you make faux pax plural?) don’t make a right. So I just gave him a dirty look instead.
Those were the highlights of my Los Angeles disgruntlement. I guess not super-major but just annoyances. And they aren’t enough to drive me out of a town I love. The love list is real real long. I think I just need a weekend house in the country. Question: Where do rich Angelenos buy weekend houses? Where is there open space, privacy and serenity within a few hours drive? I can’t think of any. Tell me. Now.
