Stop, Look and Listen.

Being an East Coast transplant in Los Angeles is a lot like being a social anthropologist. Or at least a lot like how I think a social anthropologist must feel. I've decided that's how I will approach my time here: as an observer of the bizarre. As in, no sir, I do not want to do cocaine on the roof of this bar, but thanks anyway. 

At the same time, I feel like I'm often on the other side of the spectrum, as in, people must watch me try to go about my business here and think I'm absolutely out of my gourd. This is mainly due to the fact that I have yet to get used to being completely dependent on and responsible for a car.

I'm not even going to pretend that I'm a good driver. I'm a lucky driver. I'm a dangerously cautious driver due to a day spent in a Defensive Driving course when I was sixteen where I did things like drive through slaloms and gun it down an airplane runway at 100 mph and throw on my anti-lock brakes all in the name of safety, but I wouldn't call myself good and I definitely wouldn't call myself aggressive.  Aggressive is what you need to be around here, so I'm learning.

I'm also learning to remember the fact that I drive places and park places and therefore have to be responsible for those parking spaces, i.e. refilling parking meters. I forgot about refilling parking meters which warranted a nice forced $47.00 donation to the city of Santa Monica. Lesson learned. Speaking of lessons, I'm finally, at the age of nearly 22, gaining a more solid grasp than ever on the differences between Right and Left. This is due in large part to my Widget, which incidentally, I am completely and totally dependent on. As in, if it breaks or suddenly malfunctions, I will need to either get a replacement Widget ASAP (which would be a task, because how I would find the nearest Best Buy without one is beyond me) or just move back to Massachusetts (which would also be problematic for the same reason). I should probably stock up on compasses and maps just in case, but we all know what a useless exercise that would be. I'd be better off finding the nearest forest and searching for the side of the tree trunk with the moss on it to find North.

But learn and get learned. Every morning I get up, brush the smog off of my windshield and mirrors and set out to merge and make those scary left turns and throw the puppy into reverse when possible and bang U-ies all over this city, trying to figure it all out and not mow down too many pedestrians or cyclists in the process. For the record I despise cyclists. They weave in and out of traffic like it ain't no thing, but it is, it is a thing, and that thing is IRRITATING. At least jaywalking isn't an issue. Pretty much the only thing the LAPD cracks down on is jaywalking. Fine, do your hard drugs in public, but if you cross the street without a crosswalk, we're slapping you with a $350.00 fine. It's effective, there's pretty much 0% jaywalking. It's kind of like how there's 0% crime in Dubai because they'll just cut your hands off if you do anything wrong.

Anyway. This city has given me so much to observe over the past few days, the least I can do is give a little something back, and I'd rather it be audience to my awkwardly effective driving than in the form of parking violations.