Granted, I've only been here three days…and my jetlag just wore off, but I'm pretty sure I'm seeing things clearly now. And know what this girl from the Piedmont of North Carolina has discovered? Los Angeles is a little like Oz. Things start out looking similar — there's a Walgreens on every other corner, vines climbing up the sound barrier walls along the interstates and some pretty defined accents…but the longer I'm here, I know I'm definitely not in Kansas anymore.
Though still located every 3 square blocks apart, Starbucks are different here. There are no parking lots — well hardly any. You better know how to parallel park and even then, hoof it a few blocks. Everyone who sits outside on the patio (1) smokes and (2) breathes massive amounts of exhaust fumes. Though since they're already smoking, I guess they don't care. If you don't smoke, you will not only breathe all of your patio pals' smoke, you'll whiff it in from passersby. There is no breeze, so the smoke, combined with exhaust fumes and smog (even if you can't see it, you just know it's there) lingers. Three for the price of one: Bargain!
There is one bathroom and it's coed. You need to obtain the bathroom key from the cashier. The key is attached to an eight inch tall stainless steel carafe frame. Yes, a key attached to a stainless steel contraption does make a lot of noise. I just hope everyone who uses said key washes their hands before they hand it back to the cashier who will take the key contraption then hand you your change.
People still huddle around small tables discussing business. They huddle around small tables because there are none of the cushy chairs or couches. Before conducting business, one must display on the table, immediately in front of their person, one or more of the following: a Tall Iced Coffee (it's hot here), cell phone (preferably an iPhone they waited in line for 14 hours to purchase) and/or keys to a trendy loft/condo and a creative business venture plan requiring a sack load of money or the luck of "knowing" someone.
There's a bus stop outside the window. And here? People really ride the bus. They get around town by bus, skateboards, Segways, rollerblades, motorcycles, modern bikes, junker bikes and importantly, bikes with baskets. Apparently, if you operate a motorcycle in Southern California, you are required to drive on the line which divides the two lanes typically reserved for cars and um, where I live, motorcycles.
It appears to be not only acceptable, but required to show a little more skin than necessary — whether you have the flat stomach or not. And bra straps. When did they get to be so, how do you say it, exterior? I know my daughter wanted to "Buhhh lend" out here, but we both draw the line at displaying more skin/clothing items than necessary. Go ahead, ostracize us. We can handle it. We still have 10 days left to find other ways to "buh lend."
