First of all, my flights were delayed and I wound up cruising into the LAX about five hours late. But I was optimistic. After such a long vacation, my creative guns were itching to start blowing holes in some impressionable minds WITH! ART!
YES!
The plane landed. "Let's do this," I said.
Los Angeles overheard my plans to conquer it and chuckled darkly at my naivete.
Because of the delay, my ride couldn't pick me up, so I had to look around twenty minutes for a shuttle that could take me to Van Nuys. The ride took about twice as long because Carmageddon was in full swing. (In other words, the 405 - LA's busiest freeway - was closed down.) An eternity later, I wearily trudged off the shuttle and threw seven bucks at somebody for the fare. At this point I'd been traveling for 17 hours, and I was just a five minute car ride away.
Called my roommate to come pick me up, only to find out that out of the blue, my car isn't starting for some mysterious reason. Pretty excited to pay for that this Monday.
Can't find a bus station to save my life. I'm so tired. Screw it! I'll take a cab! It's worth blowing ten bucks if it'll get me home!
HOLY CRAP THAT METER WON'T STOP TICKING. I eventually beg the driver to stop early. He does, but I don't have enough cash to pay him. He drives me to an atm, which in turn makes my cab fare rise even higher.
By the time I pay him, the atm eats my card because it thinks that I forgot it. The cab drives back to the dark hell it came from, and I'm left to drag my luggage another half-mile to my humble North Hollywood apartment, where all my neglected bills were anxiously waiting.
I'd been gone so long I'd started to think of LA as a magical place where dreams come true again. Three hours back west put me back in my place and re-taught me that the artist's life in Los Angeles can be summed up in one picture.
Time to get back to work!
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