Los Angeles: The Height of Indignation
Every source of media I've ever seen, and every piece of literature I've read, has painted Los Angeles in a glamorous light. If not glamorous, then it's been portrayed as a gang-ridden metropolis in which any person runs a serious risk of being shot. In actuality, it's not glamorous or particularly dangerous. Los Angeles is just goddamned ridiculous.
When our flight descended upon the city, I saw before me a sprawling mass of low buildings that stretched out beyond the horizon. At various points in this sprawl small collections of tall buildings poked out above the banal and drab suburban metropolis, like a series small oases with palm trees that break up the barren rows of dunes in the desert. A slight haze covered the city. Our pilot had informed us before landing that it was a clear a day in Los Angeles – visibility was only limited to seven miles.
Landing at LAX was the beginning of ridiculous. The plane taxied for twenty minutes until reaching its gate. There is no underground tram system at LAX like there is at SeaTac or every other airport I've ever visited. The vastness of LAX must be traversed on foot. Shortly after stepping outside the terminal, I realized that it was possible to taste the air. The taste was not pleasant. There is no modern public transit system to get from the airport to your destination within the city. Transportation options are shared-ride vans, taxis, and the bus system. I'd checked out the bus on the internet before departing. A twenty mile bus ride from LAX to UCLA takes two hours to complete. That option is not acceptable. We checked with the shared ride vans, and they charge fifteen dollars per person for a ride to UCLA. We checked with a cab, and the ride would be thirty dollars split between the four of us. We took the cab. Los Angeles is a place that is ripe for a light rail system – the pollution produced by cars covers the city, the highways are perpetually congested, and removing barriers to travel without a car would enable tourists and residents without cars to travel and contribute to the economy. Serving one of the biggest metropolitan areas in the world with only a bus system is just goddamned ridiculous.
The cab ride from LAX to UCLA revealed the underwhelming nature of the city. Residential slums and light industry line the freeway. The only pretty sight to be had was the Getty museum, situated on a distant hill, with its architectural details obscured by smog. Our freeway exit took us into Westwood. This area of town is pleasant, but as the shopping district of one of the nicest neighborhoods in the city, it left much to be desired. Dining options were mediocre. The coffee shop we first visited had no idea what we meant when we asked for something in a size grande or tall. Nor did the coffee shop offer free wireless internet, or even paid wireless. We ate lunch at a Japanese place, but it was the same kind of teriyaki and sushi outfit that exists nearly everywhere in America. There was no oyokodon to be had, nor were there any shitake mushrooms.
UCLA is the jewel of Los Angeles. Its campus is beautiful, and so is its student body. Its halls have some of the most beautiful architecture I've ever seen, with high arches framing grand wooden doors set inside pristine orange brick walls. There are sexy ladies everywhere. If we hadn't been staying at UCLA and had simply been on vacation instead, I probably would've been miserable for the entire trip. The only reason I'll ever want to return to Los Angeles would be to attend law school at UCLA.
UCLA does have its quirks, though. We – that is, Chiho, Robin, and Alex – were out and about touring UCLA and decided to go find the impressive student government building that we'd been told about before. We ended up in what appeared to be some kind of combined AS building and recreation center. A man there told us that student government was in Kirkaful. We thanked him, and set out to find Kirkaful. When we arrived at the place where were told Kirkaful would be, we found Kerckhoff Hall. Kirkaful became a running joke for the remainder of the trip.
Another quirk was the man in the purple shirt, who I shall refer to as Jenn. We first saw Jenn at Peek's coffee, which is a few blocks from campus. He came into the shop and sat right next to us, and appeared to be observing everything that we did. I didn't think much of it at the time. Later that day Chiho and I were checking out the library, and Jenn showed up again. A couple hours later we were in Ackerman Student Union, and Jenn made another apperance. I think that's fucked up.
The reason we were in Los Angles was for an NSCS conference, and it was like just about every other NSCS conference we've been to. Robin, Chiho, and I kept mostly to ourselves in order to shield ourselves from excessive pep, and ended up socializing with just a couple of people – Julie from UC Riverside, and Heather from University of Hawaii at Manoa.
Sleeping arrangements were atrocious. The genders were segregated, and all the men were corralled into one apartment. We asked Erin, our Scholar Ambassador why it was that the apartments weren't co-ed. She told us that it was because some people might feel uncomfortable, but we knew that wasn't the real reason. Everyone knows that if men and women are in the same room after midnight an orgy is inevitable, and we can't be having that! Even though Erin told us avoiding discomfort was the reason for the division, discomfort was not avoided, as Chiho was quite offended that NSCS assumes all its members are straight.
We were advised by our host not to drink water out of the tap. That's not acceptable. Los Angeles is not a Mexican city, it's in the United States. If the water in Bellingham wasn't potable I'd be picketing the mayor's house.
Infinitely worse than childish single sex rooms was the snoring man. I'm not sure who it was, but it was goddamned ridiculous. The man wasn't just snoring, he was making a terrible, sharp, screeching noise that penetrated my eardrums and raped my sleep-deprived consciousness. After much tossing and turning I contemplated moving out to the balcony to get some quality sleep, but I looked at my clock and found that I only had a half hour until my alarm would have gone off, anyway.
Chiho and I resolved to get a hotel room, and we checked into the UCLA Guest House that morning. We concluded that doing so was the best decision we'd ever made in our lives. The place was incredibly clean, the continental breakfast was actually tasty, and we got access to the entire university's wireless network after paying for our room. That's like anti-ridiculous.
That day, which was Saturday, we executed our service project at the STRIDES therapeutic riding center (strides.org), which was a forty minute bus ride away. Chiho and I made remarks about the goddamn scary cypress trees that line the highway while we made our way there. At the end of the trip, a group of members in the back were singing Bohemian Rhapsody. A girl up front from UCLA asked them, "Hey, who sings that song?" They replied back, "Queen!" She retorted, "Let's keep it that way!" Chiho and I were nearly in love, but then we started making fun of people that make fun of things. It was pretty ridiculous.
The place wasn't ridiculous, but at least one of my fellow NSCS members were. We were tasked with cutting low-hanging branches from the trees, and one of our work partners kept sawing on our saw with his saw. He wouldn't stop! Chiho says that guy has a gobble. Our work group got a fantastic idea that we'd try to saw off a limb that was about a food wide. We got an inch into it and gave up.
After our work was done, we made our way back to campus, and then back to our glorious hotel room. I took my second shower of the day. We met up with the group at the bus stops, as we were going to Santa Monica for dinner and general fun-timing. I saw that everybody was sitting not at the bus stop, but on a low wall about twenty yards a way, with a bus-stop sign that said "Layovers" and listed two routes that weren't ours. I voiced my concern that this wasn't the bus stop, it was just a wall, and the entire group moved over to the proper bus stop. Of course, when the bus came, it didn't halt at the bus stop or at the wall, but rather across the street. Goddamned ridiculous!
Santa Monica was actually quite nice, and I suspect it was also beautiful, but it was too dark for me to tell. We dined in a nice Italian restaurant, Trastevere. I had a salmon dish, which likely originated in Washington, and a couple of glasses of chardonnay. It was tasty, and I got inebriated enough to deal with NSCS pep. I heard rumors that one of the guys at the table was aiming to start a cheer. That's just ridiculous.
Following dinner we strolled around the Santa Monica shopping district. I saw a psychic cat, some girls with guitars, and a handicapped dude doing tricks atop his huge arms. We ducked into Diesel jeans for a bit, and I couldn't help but ridicule everything. They were selling a polo shirt that looked like it came straight from Value Village. All the jeans were more than $200, and they had wacky pockets. There was a collection of crap in the back that looked like some kind of odd and trashy decoration, but it was actually accessories for sale.
We also ducked into the Apple store. It was a religious experience. It was like a night club, there was a DJ and the floor was packed. I showed off my mad Mac skills to Julie on a PowerMac G5 with a huge display and a piano keyboard, but I don't think she was impressed. She's set in her PC ways. Maybe next time we meet I'll be able to pull her away from the dark side.
There where was an evangelical with a loud speaker strolling around at the end of the promenade. I thought it was a gloriously awesome display of freedom of speech in the public square, but I think everyone else was just offended. Poor guy, he was just condemning people to hell.
We took a cab back to the UCLA area, and went to a Ralph's in order to buy some intoxicants. In California, there are hard liquors available on grocery store shelves. It's nuts! I didn't buy any, but I was tempted to. I just wanted to get an IPA, but there wasn't a single one to be had. Apparently Ralph's is rather upscale, Chiho said it was like QFC. I can't believe they didn't have any good beer. I ended up getting an Asahi, but I'm thinking Asahi is Japanese for "Budweiser." It wasn't so great. Chiho got a bottle of hobo wine, but he didn't know it until I told him. He just thought it was really cheap wine. Three dollars cheap. It had a screw-off cap.
We drank in our hotel room, making many amusing and scathing comments about Los Angeles as the night progressed. I forgot most of them though, they evaporated with the brain cells I lost. I awoke the next morning, took my third shower of the hotel stay, got ready, and we checked out of the hotel room. I'll miss it, it really was the best decision I've ever made.
We ended up leaving the conference early, which I felt kind of bad about. Julie had to leave that morning too, so Heather had to end the conference without anyone familiar (or awesome). We hugged and took pictures though, so I'm guessing all is well.
We decided to hit up a coffee shop, and I noticed that there was a sign on the door advertising a Free Wifi Day-pass. Underneath that text read, "while supplies last." My mind boggled at the notion of running out of wireless. I went inside and got an iced mocha – which was flavored with powder, not syrup – and then went out the their patio and opened up my Powerbook. I connected to the network, but couldn't find a way to get on the internet for free. I went inside, and found that I had to be given a small coupon card with a code on it that had to be entered after connecting to the network. That is some ridiculous shit! So inefficient! Why print cards, transport them to stores, and operate a coupon code authentication system when you can so much more easily manage a free day-pass system electronically? Good god!
Later we had lunch at a noodle place, and when we were finished we set about getting a cab to the airport. I rang up the cab company that had taken us from the airport UCLA, and requested a cab at the nearest intersection, because I could read the street signs from where I was sitting. I was told that I needed to provide an address in order to get picked up. I thought it odd, but hang up and found the address for the restuarant on our receipt. I called back, got the same receptionist, and gave her the address. She then proceeded to ask which intersecting street was closest to our location. Ridiculous!!!
LAX was the beginning of ridiculous, and also the end. Chiho had wanted to buy some oversized sunglasses to remember his Los Angeles trip. We only found one store that sold such sunglasses, and it was closed. It had a sign on the window that said it would reopen at three. It wasn't a shitty booth, it was a huge duty-free store. That's simply ridiculous. When we sat down and I was planning on biting the bullet and paying $7 for an hour of wireless, I found that I couldn't. There were no wireless networks available. Motherfucking ridiculous!
I'm so glad to be back in Washington, where everything makes sense.
General Los Angeles Musings:
Los Angeles is as if Microsoft built a city. It's littered with trash, a lack of foresight leads to slowdowns and lockups on the freeway, lack of planning and vision causes the city to become a bloated, sprawling blight. Very few things are spectacular, just about everything is mediocre, and the only reason it's popular is because barely anyone knows any better. Nobody complains about anything, so nothing is ever improved.
I don't know why there are so many gangs in Los Angeles. If I had a gun, I'd steal a car and leave.
That's not a language. You're ridiculous. (This is actually a SeaTac musing)
Why do coffee shops in Los Angles not understand the Tall-Grande-Venti sizing? Everyone here understands it. Starbucks uses it, and there's plenty of Starbucks stores in Los Angeles. Everytime I asked for a Grande I had to reorder my drink as a medium.
Los Angeles makes me cry. I'm not saying it makes me sad, I'm saying the air irritates my eyes.
Here are some photos.
When our flight descended upon the city, I saw before me a sprawling mass of low buildings that stretched out beyond the horizon. At various points in this sprawl small collections of tall buildings poked out above the banal and drab suburban metropolis, like a series small oases with palm trees that break up the barren rows of dunes in the desert. A slight haze covered the city. Our pilot had informed us before landing that it was a clear a day in Los Angeles – visibility was only limited to seven miles.
Landing at LAX was the beginning of ridiculous. The plane taxied for twenty minutes until reaching its gate. There is no underground tram system at LAX like there is at SeaTac or every other airport I've ever visited. The vastness of LAX must be traversed on foot. Shortly after stepping outside the terminal, I realized that it was possible to taste the air. The taste was not pleasant. There is no modern public transit system to get from the airport to your destination within the city. Transportation options are shared-ride vans, taxis, and the bus system. I'd checked out the bus on the internet before departing. A twenty mile bus ride from LAX to UCLA takes two hours to complete. That option is not acceptable. We checked with the shared ride vans, and they charge fifteen dollars per person for a ride to UCLA. We checked with a cab, and the ride would be thirty dollars split between the four of us. We took the cab. Los Angeles is a place that is ripe for a light rail system – the pollution produced by cars covers the city, the highways are perpetually congested, and removing barriers to travel without a car would enable tourists and residents without cars to travel and contribute to the economy. Serving one of the biggest metropolitan areas in the world with only a bus system is just goddamned ridiculous.
The cab ride from LAX to UCLA revealed the underwhelming nature of the city. Residential slums and light industry line the freeway. The only pretty sight to be had was the Getty museum, situated on a distant hill, with its architectural details obscured by smog. Our freeway exit took us into Westwood. This area of town is pleasant, but as the shopping district of one of the nicest neighborhoods in the city, it left much to be desired. Dining options were mediocre. The coffee shop we first visited had no idea what we meant when we asked for something in a size grande or tall. Nor did the coffee shop offer free wireless internet, or even paid wireless. We ate lunch at a Japanese place, but it was the same kind of teriyaki and sushi outfit that exists nearly everywhere in America. There was no oyokodon to be had, nor were there any shitake mushrooms.
UCLA is the jewel of Los Angeles. Its campus is beautiful, and so is its student body. Its halls have some of the most beautiful architecture I've ever seen, with high arches framing grand wooden doors set inside pristine orange brick walls. There are sexy ladies everywhere. If we hadn't been staying at UCLA and had simply been on vacation instead, I probably would've been miserable for the entire trip. The only reason I'll ever want to return to Los Angeles would be to attend law school at UCLA.
UCLA does have its quirks, though. We – that is, Chiho, Robin, and Alex – were out and about touring UCLA and decided to go find the impressive student government building that we'd been told about before. We ended up in what appeared to be some kind of combined AS building and recreation center. A man there told us that student government was in Kirkaful. We thanked him, and set out to find Kirkaful. When we arrived at the place where were told Kirkaful would be, we found Kerckhoff Hall. Kirkaful became a running joke for the remainder of the trip.
Another quirk was the man in the purple shirt, who I shall refer to as Jenn. We first saw Jenn at Peek's coffee, which is a few blocks from campus. He came into the shop and sat right next to us, and appeared to be observing everything that we did. I didn't think much of it at the time. Later that day Chiho and I were checking out the library, and Jenn showed up again. A couple hours later we were in Ackerman Student Union, and Jenn made another apperance. I think that's fucked up.
The reason we were in Los Angles was for an NSCS conference, and it was like just about every other NSCS conference we've been to. Robin, Chiho, and I kept mostly to ourselves in order to shield ourselves from excessive pep, and ended up socializing with just a couple of people – Julie from UC Riverside, and Heather from University of Hawaii at Manoa.
Sleeping arrangements were atrocious. The genders were segregated, and all the men were corralled into one apartment. We asked Erin, our Scholar Ambassador why it was that the apartments weren't co-ed. She told us that it was because some people might feel uncomfortable, but we knew that wasn't the real reason. Everyone knows that if men and women are in the same room after midnight an orgy is inevitable, and we can't be having that! Even though Erin told us avoiding discomfort was the reason for the division, discomfort was not avoided, as Chiho was quite offended that NSCS assumes all its members are straight.
We were advised by our host not to drink water out of the tap. That's not acceptable. Los Angeles is not a Mexican city, it's in the United States. If the water in Bellingham wasn't potable I'd be picketing the mayor's house.
Infinitely worse than childish single sex rooms was the snoring man. I'm not sure who it was, but it was goddamned ridiculous. The man wasn't just snoring, he was making a terrible, sharp, screeching noise that penetrated my eardrums and raped my sleep-deprived consciousness. After much tossing and turning I contemplated moving out to the balcony to get some quality sleep, but I looked at my clock and found that I only had a half hour until my alarm would have gone off, anyway.
Chiho and I resolved to get a hotel room, and we checked into the UCLA Guest House that morning. We concluded that doing so was the best decision we'd ever made in our lives. The place was incredibly clean, the continental breakfast was actually tasty, and we got access to the entire university's wireless network after paying for our room. That's like anti-ridiculous.
That day, which was Saturday, we executed our service project at the STRIDES therapeutic riding center (strides.org), which was a forty minute bus ride away. Chiho and I made remarks about the goddamn scary cypress trees that line the highway while we made our way there. At the end of the trip, a group of members in the back were singing Bohemian Rhapsody. A girl up front from UCLA asked them, "Hey, who sings that song?" They replied back, "Queen!" She retorted, "Let's keep it that way!" Chiho and I were nearly in love, but then we started making fun of people that make fun of things. It was pretty ridiculous.
The place wasn't ridiculous, but at least one of my fellow NSCS members were. We were tasked with cutting low-hanging branches from the trees, and one of our work partners kept sawing on our saw with his saw. He wouldn't stop! Chiho says that guy has a gobble. Our work group got a fantastic idea that we'd try to saw off a limb that was about a food wide. We got an inch into it and gave up.
After our work was done, we made our way back to campus, and then back to our glorious hotel room. I took my second shower of the day. We met up with the group at the bus stops, as we were going to Santa Monica for dinner and general fun-timing. I saw that everybody was sitting not at the bus stop, but on a low wall about twenty yards a way, with a bus-stop sign that said "Layovers" and listed two routes that weren't ours. I voiced my concern that this wasn't the bus stop, it was just a wall, and the entire group moved over to the proper bus stop. Of course, when the bus came, it didn't halt at the bus stop or at the wall, but rather across the street. Goddamned ridiculous!
Santa Monica was actually quite nice, and I suspect it was also beautiful, but it was too dark for me to tell. We dined in a nice Italian restaurant, Trastevere. I had a salmon dish, which likely originated in Washington, and a couple of glasses of chardonnay. It was tasty, and I got inebriated enough to deal with NSCS pep. I heard rumors that one of the guys at the table was aiming to start a cheer. That's just ridiculous.
Following dinner we strolled around the Santa Monica shopping district. I saw a psychic cat, some girls with guitars, and a handicapped dude doing tricks atop his huge arms. We ducked into Diesel jeans for a bit, and I couldn't help but ridicule everything. They were selling a polo shirt that looked like it came straight from Value Village. All the jeans were more than $200, and they had wacky pockets. There was a collection of crap in the back that looked like some kind of odd and trashy decoration, but it was actually accessories for sale.
We also ducked into the Apple store. It was a religious experience. It was like a night club, there was a DJ and the floor was packed. I showed off my mad Mac skills to Julie on a PowerMac G5 with a huge display and a piano keyboard, but I don't think she was impressed. She's set in her PC ways. Maybe next time we meet I'll be able to pull her away from the dark side.
There where was an evangelical with a loud speaker strolling around at the end of the promenade. I thought it was a gloriously awesome display of freedom of speech in the public square, but I think everyone else was just offended. Poor guy, he was just condemning people to hell.
We took a cab back to the UCLA area, and went to a Ralph's in order to buy some intoxicants. In California, there are hard liquors available on grocery store shelves. It's nuts! I didn't buy any, but I was tempted to. I just wanted to get an IPA, but there wasn't a single one to be had. Apparently Ralph's is rather upscale, Chiho said it was like QFC. I can't believe they didn't have any good beer. I ended up getting an Asahi, but I'm thinking Asahi is Japanese for "Budweiser." It wasn't so great. Chiho got a bottle of hobo wine, but he didn't know it until I told him. He just thought it was really cheap wine. Three dollars cheap. It had a screw-off cap.
We drank in our hotel room, making many amusing and scathing comments about Los Angeles as the night progressed. I forgot most of them though, they evaporated with the brain cells I lost. I awoke the next morning, took my third shower of the hotel stay, got ready, and we checked out of the hotel room. I'll miss it, it really was the best decision I've ever made.
We ended up leaving the conference early, which I felt kind of bad about. Julie had to leave that morning too, so Heather had to end the conference without anyone familiar (or awesome). We hugged and took pictures though, so I'm guessing all is well.
We decided to hit up a coffee shop, and I noticed that there was a sign on the door advertising a Free Wifi Day-pass. Underneath that text read, "while supplies last." My mind boggled at the notion of running out of wireless. I went inside and got an iced mocha – which was flavored with powder, not syrup – and then went out the their patio and opened up my Powerbook. I connected to the network, but couldn't find a way to get on the internet for free. I went inside, and found that I had to be given a small coupon card with a code on it that had to be entered after connecting to the network. That is some ridiculous shit! So inefficient! Why print cards, transport them to stores, and operate a coupon code authentication system when you can so much more easily manage a free day-pass system electronically? Good god!
Later we had lunch at a noodle place, and when we were finished we set about getting a cab to the airport. I rang up the cab company that had taken us from the airport UCLA, and requested a cab at the nearest intersection, because I could read the street signs from where I was sitting. I was told that I needed to provide an address in order to get picked up. I thought it odd, but hang up and found the address for the restuarant on our receipt. I called back, got the same receptionist, and gave her the address. She then proceeded to ask which intersecting street was closest to our location. Ridiculous!!!
LAX was the beginning of ridiculous, and also the end. Chiho had wanted to buy some oversized sunglasses to remember his Los Angeles trip. We only found one store that sold such sunglasses, and it was closed. It had a sign on the window that said it would reopen at three. It wasn't a shitty booth, it was a huge duty-free store. That's simply ridiculous. When we sat down and I was planning on biting the bullet and paying $7 for an hour of wireless, I found that I couldn't. There were no wireless networks available. Motherfucking ridiculous!
I'm so glad to be back in Washington, where everything makes sense.
General Los Angeles Musings:
Los Angeles is as if Microsoft built a city. It's littered with trash, a lack of foresight leads to slowdowns and lockups on the freeway, lack of planning and vision causes the city to become a bloated, sprawling blight. Very few things are spectacular, just about everything is mediocre, and the only reason it's popular is because barely anyone knows any better. Nobody complains about anything, so nothing is ever improved.
I don't know why there are so many gangs in Los Angeles. If I had a gun, I'd steal a car and leave.
That's not a language. You're ridiculous. (This is actually a SeaTac musing)
Why do coffee shops in Los Angles not understand the Tall-Grande-Venti sizing? Everyone here understands it. Starbucks uses it, and there's plenty of Starbucks stores in Los Angeles. Everytime I asked for a Grande I had to reorder my drink as a medium.
Los Angeles makes me cry. I'm not saying it makes me sad, I'm saying the air irritates my eyes.
Here are some photos.
posted by Brandon Adams at
9:51 PM
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