The Ins and Outs of a Nobody in a Sea of Somebodies

3 March 2005

Driving in Los Angeles is one of the most dangerous tasks a man may ever have to undertake. And, in a bizarre twist of irony, it is practically a requirement if one wants to venture out into the City of Angels.

Heading West on Interstate 10 ("the 10," to the locals), blasting CALIFORNICATION in my Iraqi-oil-guzzling Chevy Tahoe, my gaze drifts to the Hollywood sign out my right window, and I can't help but wonder: who might that be in the black-windowed limo next to me?

When you live in LA, you never know who you may have just met, may have just walked past, may have just been within a mile of...it gets under your skin, LA does. You begin looking over your shoulder at every flashbulb (lest it be that of a paparazzo), peering over your steering wheel to see if you can see through the blackened windows, and double-taking everyone wearing sunglasses indoors.

The difficulties of driving in LA are numerous. First, one has to take into account that there are about 5 million LEGAL drivers in LA County, and God knows how many illegal drivers. There are the trucks, the limos, the morons, and the native Angelenos, who are afraid to merge on the freeway. Then there's the fact that there are approximately four left turn lights in the entire county--making turning a near-death experience and a guarantee red light-running maneuver.

Throw in a little weather, and you have the makings of the perfect Hollywood action flick. People in Southern California are physically incapable of handling ANY sort of real weather that isn't sunny and 75 degrees. This has been made all too clear to me this calendar year driving during the torrents of rain we've been receiving as a result of "global climate change."

I love it when it rains in LA, even if that means driving an average of 4 miles per hour and/or watching people lose control of their cars left and right. The clouds over the Hollywood Hills are so symbolic, and are always a welcome respite from the blanket of smog we all know and love. One must, as a driver, be careful of jaywalkers when it rains, though--unfortunately, I know from personal experience that they like to dart out in front of your car, causing you to ruin your brakes and STILL hit them (lucky for me, the law was on my side: pedestrians outside the crosswalks are fair game. God bless the technicalities). You are truly taking your life--and everyone else's, apparently--in your hands when you drive in LA.

And then, the clouds part, the pavement dries up, and the whole city has a glow about it. For a few days, you can see for miles--I can even see the Hollywood sign watching me while I'm on campus. These moments between cloudy and clear are when the magic happens--when you can feel LA breathing in you.

To me, the constant sunshine in LA is symbolic of the mask everyone here wears: everyone is an actor, it's all one big conglomerate of one-man shows. And when it rains, the makeup gets washed away, making everyone tense and uncomfortable. Afterwards, though, the sun shines, and it's beautiful, and you can truly feel the bizarre uniqueness that no other city in the world has.

Behind all of the facades and sunglasses and blacked-out windows, there are real people, real souls, and real lives. They may all be in their own universes, but it's their own, distinct form of reality. If you're not a native, you constantly find yourself between the world everyone else knows and LA--and it's dizzying, upsetting, and confounding. But this city, she loves you, for better or worse. This is celebreality.