All Good Things Come to an End

The west coast is a new experience for me, as I’ve never been west of Utah before this trip, so I didn’t know what to expect of California at all. I had suspicions and presumptions based on the heavy media focus on California, but I tried to shove them aside as we ventured from Big Mama (our bus) and into Los Angeles for two days.

We spent the first day in Santa Monica and Huntington Beach, exploring the beaches and surf communities that have become so famous (or infamous, if you’re not a fan of “dude” culture). Aside from a visit to Entertainment Tonight’s studio, the day was lazy, spent napping on the beach and enjoying the absolutely perfect weather. We ended the night with frozen yogurt and fish tacos in at Huntington Beach’s Surf City Nights Festival, watching the crowds and listening to some amazing music.

Day two was spent at Disneyland, then Sunset Boulevard. We passed through Beverly Hills and Rodeo Drive on our way to Disneyland, but the majority of the day was spent in those places examining the polar opposite of the surfer vibe: consumerism and fantasy.

Having gained a small view of Los Angeles prior to arriving at Disneyland, I can see why Walt Disney wanted to create a childlike fantasyland: L.A. has yet to grow up. There is little history there, and what is valued as history is either the works of film (dating back maybe a century) or the works of subcultures like surfers, skateboarders, or fashion designers. While there is a strong Mexican and Native American history to California, the closest it came to prevalence during our visit was the little Mexican children in the “It’s a Small World” ride at Disneyland.

With such a strong focus on the present, and such a strong focus on beauty and fitness, it’s hard to ignore the underlying egoism I found in L.A. Even the people driving along the 405 seemed so isolated in their own worlds, not even talking to the other passengers of their car (if they even had passengers. Seriously, if ever a city has needed public transit and carpool lanes, it’s L.A.). Interactions seemed stilted and disdainful, as though the people I spoke to seemed resentful that I had snapped them from their reverie.

The great irony of our two days was the most welcoming place we found in L.A. was the ET studio. Mary Hart and her family spoke with us, laughing about old jobs at Dollywood and shared wrist injuries. The camera guys let us take a picture on the stage and filled us in on the details. The director of the show let us watch him work, even though his show had to be finalized and sent out in less than 30 minutes. The assistants we spoke will all invited us back, if we ever passed through town again. How strange that the show known for celebrity gossip and entertainment news showed us the greatest sense of community and hospitality.

It was hard to see that contrast with Huntington Beach, where the couples seemed to be together because their outfits coordinated and less because of genuine affection.

I’m probably being too harsh. I’d like to go back to L.A. and try it again, on my own time. I refuse to write off an entire city based on one experience. But the whole city felt like high school to me. The maligned television show offered the nicest people, while all the beautiful people either ignored you, or judged you with contempt.

I’ve been trying to come up with a decent simile for L.A. since we first got there, and nothing seems quite right, but the closest I can come to is this: L.A. was like the girlfriend you never expected to say “yes” when you asked her out. She’s too rich, too beautiful, too…something you can’t quite place, but you know it’s not going to be long before she moves on with a sly, disdainful grin. Years later, you look back and realize she was never right for you anyway, but man, it felt good when she said “yes”.

If only it had lasted.