Road Trippin’
I looked in my mailbox the other day, and lo and behold, my dad had mailed me the Walgreens CD of pictures from our road trip! Yes, we used a digital camera to take them. And yes, he took the camera to Walgreens to get the pictures onto a CD. And yes, he physically mailed me the CD. This is why parents are awesome. Some quick stats: 4 days of driving. Pics below.
2 fearless dudes.
9 real states traversed (if you count the edges of Arizona and Nevada)
1 Utah traversed
38 hours in the car
121 photos taken
The 405… Holy Freaking Crap.
If you’ve lived in Los Angeles before or are generally familiar with driving there, you may want to skip this post. It’s basically just me venting naively.
Ok. Still there?
Tonight I learned a very valuable lesson for my next two years in the Screenwriting program. Never, ever, ever, ever, ever drive in the direction of the 405. Take only streets that run North and South. If you have an event to go to that is not at the same longitude as your home, do not go to it. Pretend you have died and therefore can’t make it.
Tonight I took a 60 minute drive that should have taken me 9 minutes according to google maps. I realize that doesn’t sound like a big deal if you’ve ever been stuck in gridlock, but you must remember that I am from Youngstown, Ohio. And that it was 10:00 at night and not rush hour.
This was all because I made the mistake of driving in the general direction of the 405, which was apparently dreamed up by a team of human-spirit-murdering robots that are right now rollicking around in a pile of greasy money, guzzling virgin blood and generally having a decent time. Probably in a jacuzzi filled with super-heated dead kittens. If I could either go back in time and kill Hitler or go back in time and kill the person who came up with the bright idea of the 405… ok, I would kill Hitler. But the point is, I would think about it.
So about 3 minutes from my apartment I turn onto Wilshire to go 2 blocks. Let me emphasize, 2 BLOCKS. But the 405 had partnered up with its old buddy middle-of-the-night-road-work, and the two of them had other plans for me. I couldn’t merge to turn onto Veteran, and Sepulveda was up ahead. Of course it was covered in orange cones, and I was an idiot and did not turn. Let this be a lesson to you. Always turn. Always, always, always turn.
That’s when the traffic ended. Abruptly. And I had no idea where I was, no idea how to get back, no GPS (no smartphone), and I was on some kind of 50 mph bizarre faux-freeway thing that curved around some kind of cemetery (for lost motorists, I assumed). So I did what any man would do. I made as many rights as I possibly could, with no way of telling where I was or where I was going. I’ve never talked to myself so much in my life. I must have gone 4 or 5 miles into the city. I became completely, insanely lost. None of the street names even registered as rational phonetic combinations. And then, miraculously, I found Veteran (the street, not the people). This was after a bit of praying, I might add.
I’d like to thank my father for the piece of advice that saved me tonight: “If you’re ever driving in a new city, always pretend you know exactly where you’re going and that you’re in a hurry to get there.” And that’s why I will never drive again.
I’m in Los Angeles
So I finally got to move in today, and it was actually a lot easier than I thought it would be. UCLA makes you get all sorts of passes and cards, which meant lots of lines to stand in, but it’s all pretty clear. I am now the proud owner of a tandem parking space (woohoo?), which means I need to be in contact with the person who has the other space, as they are probably pulling into the space behind mine as I type. I don’t know who this person is, nor do I have a way of figuring that out until their car is in the lot and I can leave them a note. Which just goes to show you: the perfunctory shall always inherit inconvenience.
I also went down to the DMV and got my new license. I did not know that California makes you take a written test, even if you already have a valid license. What is the legal speed limit in any unmarked alley? Hint: It is more than 10 mph and less than 20. I barely passed. Which obviously means I’m a terrible driver. Look out LA.
My parents are in town too, helping me out with stuff like standing in line next to me. And asking me to text them so they know I made it the two blocks to my apartment without dying. Don’t get me wrong, I love having my parents in town, and I wouldn’t have been able to make the move without them. But I think they don’t quite understand that I lived in Bushwick and can therefore dropkick knives out of people’s hands.
My dad and I took a ton of pictures of the drive here, so I’ll post those when I get a chance.
