As badly as I don't want this blog to turn into my unique and witty observations about how New York and LA are different (man, what an untapped concept), I just HAVE to go there. Sorry. I promise I'll do better next time.
We had what I consider to be our first real weekend as human beings in LA and the weather was phenomenal. Much like the phenomenal weather in New York.
We went to the beach on Saturday, laughing at those we left behind to do what we once did on sunny NYC days - attempting to get comfortable in a busted wooden "lounge" chair on our buddy's roof, fighting bugaboos and puppies for a clear path along the West Side Highway walking path, and buying out all the Bud Light Lime from the local bodega.
Ha ha you fools! We are at the beach - and April is too early for your summer share on Fire Island.
But as we sat at the beach, surrounded by drunken volleyball players tackling each other, I had some second thoughts about my new-found LA haughtiness. Would I rather be surrounded by drunk guys arguing every point in a game of Aces, or drunk guys talking about boning sluts at a club I can't get into? Is there a lesser of the evils?
On the one hand, I'm at the beach. On the other, I'm on a roof. I have a view of some guy's hairy, sunburned crack. I have a view of the downtown Manhattan skyline. My struggle is clear.
My brain was overloaded and I needed a break. Needing some mid-afternoon nourishment to power through the rest of my internal debate, I trekked 20 minutes to get some $9 sandwiches and saw a late night talk show host. It felt like any ordinary day in Tribeca*, and I realized that maybe things aren't so different here after all.
So I’ve resigned myself to stop making inane NY vs. LA comments about jaywalking and barbeques. Because really, I like and hate it all.
*except this was Jimmy Kimmel and not Jon Stewart, but you can't win 'em all.
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