Driving in LA
It has been a long and interesting week.
I went to LA last Monday for the big girl trip. As luck would have it I was actually seated in between the only two good looking guys on the plane. I even talked to one for while until he bored me to death with news of his company, promotion, stock options, real estate ventures, and stock portfolio. And then I politely started reading everything in front of me and avoided eye contact all together. He never asked for my number. Oh well.
When we landed, the moment of truth had arrived. I was to drive, for the first time in forever, down the mean streets and freeways of LA. Now, I don't know what it was I was so nervous about; I think it was really the fear of being afraid. In anticipation of all of this, I kept picturing having a panic attack and forgetting how to drive, or getting confused between the brake and the gas, or unwittingly driving with my lights off in the dark. When I sat down in the seat and actually started the car, none of that happened. All of a sudden my driving legs were on and it was like no time had passed at all since I drove little Funky Fitness home from NYC six and a half years ago. I turned out of Avis, got right on the freeway, and was fully enjoying myself.
It turns out what I really should have been concerned about was GETTING LOST. Because that is what I did practically every time I was in the car for the duration of my trip. The first thing I learned is that the freeway exits are not numbered. If I knew to simply look out for "exit 22" for example, maybe I wouldn't have gotten confused among the 30 different exits with "Santa Monica" in the directive. So, I somehow got off too early, getting onto the 10, but I knew as soon as I did it that it was wrong, and I wasn't concerned. I figured I would get off the 10, turn around, get back on going the other way, and get back on the 405 to continue my trip. Well, that would have been the most sensical thing to do. However, the second thing I learned is that the streets, freeways, and exit signs in LA are completely non-sensical - there is little rhyme or reason to anything road-related. When I got off the 10, I saw just a second too late the street sign for the street I was to have taken to Santa Monica Blvd. Of course, it was further down than I should have been, but had I seen it a second earlier, I might have gotten on it and found my way right then. But, no. I was headed through the streets of Santa Monica, driving aimlessly, and still rather enjoying the adventure. I found myself on the same route that Ryan had taken me on a year prior, passing landmarks like the Westside Pavillion, Beverly Glen, and more. It all looked familiar, but didn't really help much.
All in all, I was still not nervous. I finally stopped at a gas station, where they told me I was only two blocks from Wilshire, where I needed to be, and so I continued on my way. Things I learned number 3: Street signs on major LA streets are marked half a block in advance of the street they are supposed to represent. I flew right by Wilshire, and found myself in the heart of Bev Hills/Rodeo drive area. Because I had stayed there this summer for Umberto, I knew pretty well where I was, took a few turns, and landed back on Wilshire only a few blocks from my hotel. I was so damn happy and proud of myself and generally giddy, that I DROVE RIGHT BY THE DAMN HOTEL.
Okay, now I'm pissed. Pissed turned into frustration when a half hour later I was still in the car driving in circles, only blocks from the hotel, yet completely unable to find it. One more stop at a gas station (again, only two blocks away from where I needed to be) and I finally drove into the hotel parking lot cursing the day I decided to move here. Tracy picked me up and we did dinner, and I drank lots of wine to relax.
So the next day I had my two interviews. I was much less nervous for the interviews than I was about driving to get there. Now, while I had full confidence in my driving skills, I had no confidence at all in my ability to navigate the routes without getting lost. Mapquest said that my first interview was 10 minutes away from the hotel. I left at 11 for an 11:30 interview. I was fine, up until the last part of the directions, when I ended up BACK on the 405 instead of the side street parallel to it. Well, I am intelligent, and have always had a good sense of direction, so I immediately got off, miraculously ended up on the street where I should have been two steps down, and found my interview. Even parallel parked with ease. I walked in the door at 11:30 sharp.
The interview was good. I liked Karen more than I expected, and like the offices MUCH more than I expected, but I expect this opportunity is too small beans for what would be good for me. More on that later.
From there I was to drive downtown, where I had my second interview at 3 PM. I left the first place at 12:30, and even though I was hungry, I figured I better get myself to the next location first, just in case it took the day (and an army) for me to get there. I actually got there with no problems, until I remembered I had to look for the parking garage, and not just the building itself. So that resulted in an extra drive around a short block, but this time the blocks stayed where they were supposed to when I wasn't looking and I found the garage on the next try. By that point, it was just past one, and so I had two hours to kill until Interview 2. So, I went and had a big lunch and a big glass of wine to pass the time and relax. It's kind of ironic how much driving makes me crave alcohol, when you consider that the two really shouldn't mix.
Interview 2 was at the "corporate place", and boy, was it ever. I had known that going in, and was looking forward to it as a way of building my skills and my career. Apprehensive because of my Magnet experience, but optimistic in the sense that I am older and at a different place in my career. I was there for 2 and a half hours, met with five people, and left knowing that no way in hell do I want to work there. First of all, I could tell that they all worked really long hours. Just about everyone I met looked like they hadn't seen the sun in months, most were somewhat to very overweight. They all talked to me in "marketing speak" - about deliverables, and ROI's, and other words I can't even remember. At least two or three of them mentioned the company's billings - which mean nothing to me, especially as it's not like I'm going to see any percentage of that as an account supervisor. I think the interview went well, but I want no part of it. I was fully exhausted by the time I got out of there, and of course, I now had to drive myself back to the airport.
I had realized that the hardest part of this whole trip was not having anyone in the passenger seat to read me the directions - especially at night when the car was dark. I got out fine, and got back on the freeway fine - it was raining and it was rush hour, so traffic was at a crawl, which was totally fine with me. But, I tell you, the freeway exit signs are confusing, and they only give you about a mile's notice before one comes up, so as I approached the airport and it was dark, I started to get nervous that I would miss my exit. I was so tired and so tense, and by this time cursing the whole thing. Sure enough, my exit came up out of nowhere, but by now I was a pro and actually GOT ON IT! So I am cruising to the airport, following the tiny and impossible to read signs for the rent-a-car drop off, and kept cruising, and cruising, and cruising, until I realized that the rental car drop off was somewhere not here. I must have passed it, which didn't surprise me at all being that the signs are small and impossible to read. Turned around, went to another gas station, and found the drop off about four exits up. The rental car sign was half obscured by palm trees. By the time I turned into Avis, I was ready to cancel the whole move and never drive in LA again.
Alas, it was a good experience for me. And the next time I go, I'll have Kris in the passenger seat to read me the directions, at least for a few days. Um, that will be three weeks from right now! I've written so much already today. I can't even go into what needs to be done in preparation, or how loved I feel by my many goodbye parties, or how I am too fat to be seen by new people yet. Another time.
I went to LA last Monday for the big girl trip. As luck would have it I was actually seated in between the only two good looking guys on the plane. I even talked to one for while until he bored me to death with news of his company, promotion, stock options, real estate ventures, and stock portfolio. And then I politely started reading everything in front of me and avoided eye contact all together. He never asked for my number. Oh well.
When we landed, the moment of truth had arrived. I was to drive, for the first time in forever, down the mean streets and freeways of LA. Now, I don't know what it was I was so nervous about; I think it was really the fear of being afraid. In anticipation of all of this, I kept picturing having a panic attack and forgetting how to drive, or getting confused between the brake and the gas, or unwittingly driving with my lights off in the dark. When I sat down in the seat and actually started the car, none of that happened. All of a sudden my driving legs were on and it was like no time had passed at all since I drove little Funky Fitness home from NYC six and a half years ago. I turned out of Avis, got right on the freeway, and was fully enjoying myself.
It turns out what I really should have been concerned about was GETTING LOST. Because that is what I did practically every time I was in the car for the duration of my trip. The first thing I learned is that the freeway exits are not numbered. If I knew to simply look out for "exit 22" for example, maybe I wouldn't have gotten confused among the 30 different exits with "Santa Monica" in the directive. So, I somehow got off too early, getting onto the 10, but I knew as soon as I did it that it was wrong, and I wasn't concerned. I figured I would get off the 10, turn around, get back on going the other way, and get back on the 405 to continue my trip. Well, that would have been the most sensical thing to do. However, the second thing I learned is that the streets, freeways, and exit signs in LA are completely non-sensical - there is little rhyme or reason to anything road-related. When I got off the 10, I saw just a second too late the street sign for the street I was to have taken to Santa Monica Blvd. Of course, it was further down than I should have been, but had I seen it a second earlier, I might have gotten on it and found my way right then. But, no. I was headed through the streets of Santa Monica, driving aimlessly, and still rather enjoying the adventure. I found myself on the same route that Ryan had taken me on a year prior, passing landmarks like the Westside Pavillion, Beverly Glen, and more. It all looked familiar, but didn't really help much.
All in all, I was still not nervous. I finally stopped at a gas station, where they told me I was only two blocks from Wilshire, where I needed to be, and so I continued on my way. Things I learned number 3: Street signs on major LA streets are marked half a block in advance of the street they are supposed to represent. I flew right by Wilshire, and found myself in the heart of Bev Hills/Rodeo drive area. Because I had stayed there this summer for Umberto, I knew pretty well where I was, took a few turns, and landed back on Wilshire only a few blocks from my hotel. I was so damn happy and proud of myself and generally giddy, that I DROVE RIGHT BY THE DAMN HOTEL.
Okay, now I'm pissed. Pissed turned into frustration when a half hour later I was still in the car driving in circles, only blocks from the hotel, yet completely unable to find it. One more stop at a gas station (again, only two blocks away from where I needed to be) and I finally drove into the hotel parking lot cursing the day I decided to move here. Tracy picked me up and we did dinner, and I drank lots of wine to relax.
So the next day I had my two interviews. I was much less nervous for the interviews than I was about driving to get there. Now, while I had full confidence in my driving skills, I had no confidence at all in my ability to navigate the routes without getting lost. Mapquest said that my first interview was 10 minutes away from the hotel. I left at 11 for an 11:30 interview. I was fine, up until the last part of the directions, when I ended up BACK on the 405 instead of the side street parallel to it. Well, I am intelligent, and have always had a good sense of direction, so I immediately got off, miraculously ended up on the street where I should have been two steps down, and found my interview. Even parallel parked with ease. I walked in the door at 11:30 sharp.
The interview was good. I liked Karen more than I expected, and like the offices MUCH more than I expected, but I expect this opportunity is too small beans for what would be good for me. More on that later.
From there I was to drive downtown, where I had my second interview at 3 PM. I left the first place at 12:30, and even though I was hungry, I figured I better get myself to the next location first, just in case it took the day (and an army) for me to get there. I actually got there with no problems, until I remembered I had to look for the parking garage, and not just the building itself. So that resulted in an extra drive around a short block, but this time the blocks stayed where they were supposed to when I wasn't looking and I found the garage on the next try. By that point, it was just past one, and so I had two hours to kill until Interview 2. So, I went and had a big lunch and a big glass of wine to pass the time and relax. It's kind of ironic how much driving makes me crave alcohol, when you consider that the two really shouldn't mix.
Interview 2 was at the "corporate place", and boy, was it ever. I had known that going in, and was looking forward to it as a way of building my skills and my career. Apprehensive because of my Magnet experience, but optimistic in the sense that I am older and at a different place in my career. I was there for 2 and a half hours, met with five people, and left knowing that no way in hell do I want to work there. First of all, I could tell that they all worked really long hours. Just about everyone I met looked like they hadn't seen the sun in months, most were somewhat to very overweight. They all talked to me in "marketing speak" - about deliverables, and ROI's, and other words I can't even remember. At least two or three of them mentioned the company's billings - which mean nothing to me, especially as it's not like I'm going to see any percentage of that as an account supervisor. I think the interview went well, but I want no part of it. I was fully exhausted by the time I got out of there, and of course, I now had to drive myself back to the airport.
I had realized that the hardest part of this whole trip was not having anyone in the passenger seat to read me the directions - especially at night when the car was dark. I got out fine, and got back on the freeway fine - it was raining and it was rush hour, so traffic was at a crawl, which was totally fine with me. But, I tell you, the freeway exit signs are confusing, and they only give you about a mile's notice before one comes up, so as I approached the airport and it was dark, I started to get nervous that I would miss my exit. I was so tired and so tense, and by this time cursing the whole thing. Sure enough, my exit came up out of nowhere, but by now I was a pro and actually GOT ON IT! So I am cruising to the airport, following the tiny and impossible to read signs for the rent-a-car drop off, and kept cruising, and cruising, and cruising, until I realized that the rental car drop off was somewhere not here. I must have passed it, which didn't surprise me at all being that the signs are small and impossible to read. Turned around, went to another gas station, and found the drop off about four exits up. The rental car sign was half obscured by palm trees. By the time I turned into Avis, I was ready to cancel the whole move and never drive in LA again.
Alas, it was a good experience for me. And the next time I go, I'll have Kris in the passenger seat to read me the directions, at least for a few days. Um, that will be three weeks from right now! I've written so much already today. I can't even go into what needs to be done in preparation, or how loved I feel by my many goodbye parties, or how I am too fat to be seen by new people yet. Another time.
Labels: Los Angeles, New York
posted by Lori @ 12:52 PM
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