Your Big City Siren is a weird new city. Well, I did it. I left New York for a while. I’m not going to say leaving my beloved New York was easy. The thought of my exit was paralyzing to me. I made my friends hang out with me every possible free second they had, I stopped drinking knowing just one whiskey would send me into the downward spiral of the century, I packed up my apartment, did one last game of tequila BINGO at Tortilla Flats, and I got out of dodge. And my little dog too.
My thoughts and feelings of New York the past year were kind of like how I started to feel at the end of my last relationship. We’d hit a wall. We were doing the same thing over and over and while sometimes it felt right and good…. something had to change. I was having a hard time finding the change with the lover that I had (or New York) so I knew if I didn’t get out now, I’d never do it. So I turned 30, cut my hair off, and moved across the country fully in denial and with every plan to come back to New York ASAP. (Don’t worry, I kept my rent stabilized apartment and I didn't pull a Britney)
Saying I left NY kicking and screaming would be a understatement. When I took off from JFK, we flew over the Empire State Building, Lady Liberty, and Central Park. I had this cartoon vision of me literally jumping out of the plane and letting little pieces of Lindsey fly over all the dumb tourists and horse and carriages. They shouldn’t be there anyway! Did Blasio get rid of them?! See, I’m not there so I don’t know!
Before my move to LA, I made a 2 week pit stop to FL to take of some family matters, (Urkle says hi and also, “Did I do that?”) and two weeks later, I arrived in La La land… the land of…. home to… I arrived in LA.
I gained 6 pounds right away. No change in diet AND I haven’t been drinking. Is it grieving weight? Is god telling me he wants me back in NY so he’s going to make me the fattest one? I don’t know. My friend Nicole told me to look for the signs that I made the right move… So, my first week my subletter in NY bailed on me and I instantly lost $2,000, my ceiling in my bathroom caved in, I had 3 interviews for a waitressing position and didn’t get it, and I’m fat. I’ve decided to not look for the signs and just try to live.
Listen, LA is no New York. It doesn’t compare. And that’s just it … it’s so different you simply cannot compare. LA is fine. I don’t dislike it. I dislike driving. Despise it. I will go down in history as the girl who walks in LA. I can’t parallel park, I have to wear my glasses at night, and I can’t park on hills because it scares me. Who am I?
LA is a place where you can see a Hasidic Jewess with fake tits (I know because I saw it), you can drink a green smoothie everyday (And then walk around with Kale in your teeth all day), and there’s avocado on EVERYTHING. The homeless are well-dressed, entitled, and also a bit aggressive. I’ve seen a few of them with I-Phones. LA is a place where even the fat people are in shape. Seriously, I’ve never seen ANYTHING like it. Everyone has a spray tan, “cold” is 70 degrees, the roads are shit, the highways are insane, the hiking is a scene, the weather is amazing.
In the month I’ve been here, I’ve met Doogie Howser and Zack Morris, I landed a gig as a receptionist on a TV show (I’m not a receptionist, I just play one on TV), I got an agent, I’m working semi-consistently, eating lots of craft service because I’m broke, I go on hike dates, when people talk about swells I pretend like I know what they’re talking about, I went to a bikini competition (Don't worry, I did not compete), I got paid to sit on Malibu beach with the stoner from Clueless, had late-night In-N-Out Burger, I grocery shop at Ralphs or Von’s, and I got a ticket for being on my phone while driving.
While I’m still a fish out of water, every day gets a little better. I never realized how much of an east coaster I am until I got here. I’ll find my groove, I know. I’ll find my friends and family here, I know. I have had people out here hold me up and completely take care of me, while others have done the “LA-flake” on me for sure. But the people are nice here, and “The weather and the quality of life” is not too shabby either. People like to say that here. “The weather and the quality of life”. It makes me laugh. I just need to find my coffee shop, my dog park, my Vietnamese place for summer rolls, my bodega, my gym, my perfect-for-me apartment in my perfect-for-me hood. All those little life things that I had back home that made me feel like a person.
Listen up New York. I’ll be back and soon. I’ll come stay inside of you this summer for a little while and we’ll go to Shake Shack and wait in line for burgers, see some plays, lay in Central Park or Madison Square park, take a train to go to a beach, run on the West Side Highway, see some outdoor movies, we’ll have brunch with endless bloody marys, hang out with all my lovely neighbors, drink wine on good friend’s couches when we are too hot to go outside, picnic on the highline, take a stroll on the Lower East Side, hang out with my deli guys, see some music at Rockwood, drink too many whiskeys and dance at LIT lounge. Now THAT’S my kind of “Quality of life”.