La la Land

Traveling to a new city at thirty-eight is like walking into an ice cream shop when I was a child, its beautiful people and places like sprinkles on my favorite flavor. I love the energy, the variety, the essence of people coming together to make an ever-transforming place that feels both novel and nostalgic.

A couple of weeks ago, I traveled cross country to Los Angeles. I was accompanying my husband on a work trip, but for me, it was just for fun, and to be supportive (and if there is travel, I can definitely be supportive). On the morning of our flight, I opened the door to my closet and took a moment to consider which persona I would be for the day. I quickly reached for my kelly green car coat, deciding that I wanted to be 'distinctive' rather than 'everyday'. After all, I would be included in the herd of people to be watched from afar, or maybe even up close.

I would be venturing through airports, ubers, swarms of hotel-goers, and real city-dwellers as we made our way across the country. 'The girl in the green coat' could potentially be someone else's mystery story for the day. I slipped on my leather riding boots to complete the look. After all, the best part of people-watching is that you get to be part of the show and the audience at the same time. Who do you want to be? The decision is entirely yours. Feeling artsy? athletic? goth? You could be the outspoken lady with the blue backpack in the Starbucks line or maybe the man in the expensive suit waiting impatiently to board his plane. That is, of course, if you have an expensive suit.

We made it to L.A. and proceeded to check in to our family-friendly hotel, directly adjacent from Disneyland, of all places. Thankfully, we had already discussed our plans prior to arrival.  I've never been much of a theme park girl, and my husband has come to understand this. He knows he needs our kids to bring the enthusiasm for the matching bracelets, character breakfasts, and rollercoasters.

 As I took a stroll around, the essence of the hotel lobby intrigued me, especially considering our proximity to 'the happiest place on earth'. It had a melancholy vibe about it, counter to what one might think. Where were the matching t-shirts and preschoolers in princess dresses? No crying children, smelly children, or napping children anywhere. As I looked around, all I saw were hipster threads and black everywhere, especially black hoodies. No mickey ears or colorful balloons or melting ice cream in any direction. I guess it was February, and in the chilly mid-sixties, but still.

We decided to hit up Huntington Beach the next evening and walk along the pier. When we arrived, a group of surfers in full-length wet-suits had just started lining up on the southside of the swells, ready and waiting for their turn, for their stage amidst the setting sun. I leaned onto the sun-soaked railing and watched a father and daughter pair for a long time. The girl was clearly a barney, a rookie at the sport, falling often, but gazing intently at her dad's every move. The determination in her spirit was obvious, even from 500 feet away. I could see her father gesturing and telling her something. She nodded and swept her body back on the board. I became fixated on her every move, hoping I could somehow use my own willpower to help her catch a wave.

After a while the sound of big band music brought me out of my self-imposed trance. The sounds of Duke Ellington swirled around us and I grabbed my husbands hand, giddy, as we turned toward a small diner at the end of the pier. Weathered wooden benches were ready to receive us as we approached the viewing area. Each one had a little nameplate of a person from the past that had also wandered along this pier, and found it peaceful, perhaps, maybe even comforting. We sat like locals for a while, as if the bench had held us up many times before, and stared out into the blue-grey waters.

Hungry, we decided to grab some burgers from a local dive and head back to our hotel. As we made our way across town, our driver started telling us all about his adventures as a free man, making his own schedule and not having to answer to anyone. I listened for a while until he started talking about skinny dipping with dolphins in the Pacific and the woman he met in Mexico. At that point I knew he was just entertaining. He could be center stage in his own kind of traveling show for twenty or thirty minutes, and we were his (captive) audience.

The next morning it was time to head back east, back home. We had looked and sampled and tasted, even if it was only for a few days. We had found the people with captivating stories to share with us, and also found a memorable spot that could have been home, if only for a little while.