One of the things I found maddening about L.A. was the sheer number of people roaming the streets midday. I’m not talking about the homeless or even a recently laid off individual, I’m talking about the “kept” people whose spouses are so rich they never have to work a day in their life. My numerous lunches in ritzy parts of town like Manhattan Beach or the famed Beverly Hills didn’t make me jealous, they irritated me to no end. You would see moms with their nannies toting around well-dressed tots either for a fun day at the beach, or for a nice expensive meal at a see and be seen restaurant, on a WEEKDAY, not a weekend. Or, you saw hoity toity people with peeled back faces acting important when really, they were just jerks on a lunch date. I would discuss with whoever I was with how much these people sucked for a) not having to work b) making lunch the most important event of the day and c) being able to not work and spend lavishly without a care in the world. “Who ARE these people and why are they just walking around doing these things in the middle of the day – don’t they have anything to do?!”
Well, I left L.A. And now I’m practically unemployed. So today after dropping my mom off at work I went to my favorite townie place: Target. I was surprised at how busy the store was for a Tuesday morning. But even more surprising were the people who were out and about while most were stuck in offices. The majority were women, but they were different. They were saggy, and frumpy, and old. Not necessarily in a gross way, but just in a natural way. It kind of blew my mind. In L.A. I always had a complex being so casually dressed while dining next to the stars – if you count Tom Arnold as a star, like I was that kid in school with the ill-fitting hand me downs (my ill-fitting clothes were self-purchased, thank you very much). But here, at Target – granted, it was Target – I felt like there was no pressure and no judgment. In my ultra light weight running shoes, jeans that need a belt, and collegiate hoodie that shouldn’t be worn outdoors, I fit right in.
It was just so weird to see so many regular people during the day, not on a weekend, not wearing designer clothing whilst toting mini dogs in handbags. It’s not just a townie phenomenon. Even in S.F. there are fewer obvious douchebags milling about. Everyone knows how much I hated being in L.A. and how it made no sense for me to have stayed there so long. Here, and I’m sure just about anywhere, I feel oddly comfortable after having been so miserable for eight L.A. years. Right now, for reasons unknown, it feels good to be back in the Bay Area, living at home at age 26, and being relatively unemployed. I made the right decision to leave L.A. and get away from a life of the rich and famous. My fate was sealed when I walked an old Chinese lady to Aisle 26 to help her find Preparation H.
