Sam and I pride ourselves in our spontaneity. Except for lately we haven't been very, you know, spontaneous. Sam put together this whole plan for a trip to LA just two days ago and pitched it to me like he was a salesman trying to sell his most overpriced car. Although, I didn't need much convincing. We drove through the night, stopping only to get gas and once for a rest. We stopped at a lone rest area in the middle of nowhere and turned off my poor overworked '96 Corolla. The hood was hot and smelled but we leaned against it to admire the twinkling stars in the darkness around us and the "galaxy dust" as I call it. After an hour and a half nap it was back on the road.
Lately, we have been obsessed with the T.V. series, The OC, watching it together on our lunch breaks and cramming in an episode or two late at night. For our "Orange County" vacay I was expecting green rolling hills, sparkling mansions, high end shopping, and a glittering blue ocean. Maybe even a nice breakfast at an adorable diner on the Pier consistent with the everyday picture painted by Ryan, Marissa, and Seth Cohan. L.A. was chilly and overcast when we pulled in. The ocean was no where in sight. There were pawn shops and .99 cent stores instead of posh boutiques. Sirens blazed passed us wailing and screeching and reminding us that, this, is really Los Angeles. Damp, smelly, and definitely not the pictures painted on a postcard.
We ate at a Jack-In-The-Box, pretty much the only restaurant with a sign in English. We had to speak to the cashier through a barred window and the bathrooms where we went to change and freshen up had to be opened by a security buzzer. As soon as we got our food my husband got a business call and had to leave me to go to the car to take it. I stared after him, mouth open, and watched him disappear out of sight. I don't know why I was being so skittish. I placed my elbow over my husband's backpack containing his MacBook and kept my eyes down. Now, as mentioned, I love the series Breaking Bad. So maybe I was living in this alternate universe for awhile, but a Jesse look a like in grey sweats brushed passed me with his hood up and his hand in his pocket. Gun? Knife? My back tensed as he walked by. It could just be coincidence, but then, there right in front of me was Tuco. Do rag, gold teeth and a permanent sneer. Every time the door opened I hoped it would be my husband. I didn't want to keep looking back towards the door so I watched people come in behind me from the reflection of the window and tried to busy myself with my hash browns and the book I pulled out of my purse.
Now as a young married couple trying to prove our spontaneity, we may not have been very thorough in our planning and hotel booking. We drove down the same part of Century Boulevard over and over as Siri announced that we had reached our destination. Maybe that's it? I point over to a building mere feet from the main road with a big hedge covering it and ivy crawling over the windows. We are not ostentatious or fancy in the least. I'm making it sound like I am a princess, but I am not. My theory has always been: Find the cheapest hotel or sleep in the car = have more money for adventures. But this place is a HOLE. We get our key from the front desk and turn past the leafy and rain watered small pool and start walking up the dilapidated stairs. My foot sinks as I hit the top one. I warn Sam about it. Sinking stairs, just like in Harry Potter! I joke, trying to make the best of our trip. We open the door to our room and a warm moist smell washed over us. It smells like R. Kelly's sheets, if you know what I mean. There are cords dangling from the ceiling, matted blue/purple carpet, flies circling all above us, and the bed covers are damp. We can't help but laugh. I tell my husband not to worry, I've had worse. He calls me a liar. I am.
Sam only has a few minutes to change into his suit before we have to drive to his business convention. I gingerly sit on the orange floral bed cover and study the tropical sunset painting above our bed and compare it to the green farm picture to my left. I can hear yelling and profanities in the pool courtyard beneath us, and sirens in the distance. This is when I start to worry. I had planned to shop and tan on the beach literally all day while Sam was at the convention. I even brought a cute work out outfit so I could work out on the beach. I created a special playlist to listen to and thought about the amazing Instagram photo opportunities I was going to get (Oh come on, we all think it!). Now I felt wary about the next 8 hours. I didn't feel safe here alone at the hotel, the driving here is so scary there is no way I could drive all over to find the beach, and I felt like I'd get mugged if I wandered down the street to explore. I had no more options.
I could tell Sam didn't feel comfortable about leaving me to fend for myself. He told me I could come sit in on the convention with him, but I wasn't dressed right and besides, what a waste of a California day! We turned to the small parallel-park-only parking lot in front of the hotel and find we are blocked in on all sides by cars. Sam is already late. He opens the car door for me then jogs inside to see what he can do. We wait and wait. I rarely see Sam so agitated. He is usually the cool calm collected one and it is me who is feisty. A man pulls up behinds us in a big van, blocking the only chance we had at escape. Sam gets out furiously. Oh no. I don't want him to be feisty! I'm eager for him to get back in the car and not get beat up by a thug. He looks so innocent and young with his suit and cropped hair cut. We are definitely not in Utah anymore.
Finally, after a tense drive we find the fancy Hilton hotel and get out to switch spots. The valets are angrily hurrying us a long so I climb into the seat with a lump in my throat. I don't know where to go or how to get there. I adjust the mirrors and clench my jaw and wait for at least five minutes until I'm brave enough to gun it and pull out into the middle of traffic. I accidentally get caught in the flow of cars going to the airport and can not get out. My gas light dings on and my stomach drops. I drove past station after station, never getting a chance to get into a lane to pull into one. Cars are honking at me, fingers are flying. I feel like the whole world is whizzing by me and I am the only one in slow motion. A car is waiting on a little street in between two big streets. He looks left and pulls out in front of me without looking to his right. I yank the steering wheel so hard to the right I feel like my little grandma car is leaning on two wheels like I saw in an action movie once. My purse topples over and dumps the contents at my feet, getting caught under the pedals. Laying on my horn angrily doesn't even make me feel any better as I skid across two lanes. I try not to curse under my breath. I only have a few second to right my car out again before the car behind me is honking because I am not going fast enough. I see a Shell sign ahead and feel relief was over me. Gas is four bucks a gallon and I don't even know how to work the stupid pump.
My friend was asked once, wait it wasn't my friend, it was actually a character off of One Tree Hill. I always get those mixed up. Anyway, she was asked why she was so afraid of the ocean. She answered simply:
Immensity.
I sit in the car while the gas pump ticks. My arms ache from stress and my legs are still numb from my almost head on collision. How can L.A. feel so small and tight and confining, yet so exhaustively big? My eyes prick with hot tears. I am usually much stronger than this. I can't place what it is I am feeling but then I realize, it's Immensity.
I see how small my world around really is as the walls surrounding it tear apart and I am suddenly so exposed. Thousands of people I have seen today, and not one of them have been kind. I like to believe that people are innately good, and that the world is not full of doom and gloom. I guess to quote Tennessee Williams, "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers."
Then I wonder, is kindness really what I need, or a sense of feeling noticed by strangers? I wonder if I rely on others to give me strength and courage and depth, or is it really within me alone? In a world so immense, I realize that you can't rely on others. Maybe the kind ones are far and few, maybe the world is really busy, chaotic, and angry. Right then, at that moment, I feel so small and insignificant. I have always believed one person can make a change, but how much of that really rings true right now, as the state of California swallows me whole. I feel like I am Jonah, in the belly of a giant whale, sucummed to the fact that I have failed. I have been overcome by something so much bigger than me entirely. Maybe that is why L.A. scares me so. The thought that one person can really make a change is fading away from being so such a bold and vibrant hope in heart. That's what scared me the most.
I've been all across the U.S.A for dance mostly, a vacation once in a while to visit family, and to Mexico once for my honeymoon, but today feels so different. I think it's because I'm by myself. I have hung up a picture of a self rejuvenating day that I know will fall. I pull out of the gas station carefully. I head West, at least I think, because I knew that sooner or later I had to run into the ocean somehow. I pass skyscrapers and piles of cars and find a more quaint part of town. The one thing to cheer me up all day, and I know this is going to sound ridiculous, is T.J. Max. I flip a U and walk in. There it is, the kingdom of a queen "Maxinista" such as I. I walk in and smile as I notice items I have memorized from my Bountiful store. I see the dress I wanted to buy that my sister not very kindly told me was hideous. I pass a man in an aisle and bump into his cart. I wince and apologize and scamper like a scared squirrel as I expect him to glare or yell.
"Excuse me Miss, that was all my fault. Let me move that for you."
This poor man will never know why my face brightened and I was at a loss for words. He must think I'm just another Crazy Craze from L.A. But what he gave me then was hope. He was the first person that talked or even responded back to me all day.
I didn't buy anything but left feeling much better. I drove with authority. Speeding up and changing lanes when I felt like it. I drove West until roads dead ended, then I'd find another road that led west. I began leaving the more commercial part of the city and found apartment buildings and a welcomed sight of grass. I saw kids riding their bikes, beautiful pots of flowers sitting in front of small squished California style homes. An Arab woman was beating a rug, a man was selling tacos on the corner. Individuals, doing their individual things. I accidentally got wound into a private drive into a cul-de-sac and had to turn around. I took a side street and went up one more hill and hit my brakes, frozen right where I was.
The ocean. There it was, in all it's glory. The day was still cloudy and overcast so the water wasn't a sparkling blue and there weren't many out on the beach below me. I got a lump in my throat for the third time that day. The grey water reached as far back and as far wide as I could see. The waves lulled onto the shore with rhythmic majesty. There it was. So beautifully immense.
I stayed parked there right where I was, even as a man pulled in front of me and leaned out the window to jab his finger at the sign next to me that said No Parking. I had to laugh and shake my head as I put my car into gear. The world is immense. So much more than we even realize. So much more than just the span from Utah to Los Angeles. I was right about discovering that today, but about something else I was very wrong. When you look at the whole forest, you never see the individual trees. These individual trees make up a vastness so immense it becomes a green blur. When looking at humanity a whole, we may not think we can change the world. But it's the little things, the smiles, the service, the kindness, in our own small surroundings that really make up the tiny DNA strands of this earth. Today I struggled with being just a "1" in a 3.82 million tree city. But I, alone, helped make up that forest. I may not change the whole world one day, but I can spread warmth and love to those I meet. Maybe by doing so, we can remind others to do the same. The world doesn't need to see us or notice us for us to be effective in a certain transition. If even one person noticed it we were the change.
Now, I sit in my hotel room, shades drawn, doors and windows locked typing this post. I'm not confined here because I'm pushed out or scared by the immensity, but because I wanted to write to remember how I felt today. To the world you may just be one person, and I am, but I am ONE person in that world that refuses to be a stereotype or be overlooked. The flies are buzzing, I can hear pounding above me, and I literally just flicked a bug off the bed where I am sitting, but I'm going to make the most of this day. It's time to put on my big girl pants and climb out from the belly of this whale. I'm embarrassed by how overwhelmed I got today. I let the immensity wash over me completely. But today was also a defining moment for me. I will no longer rely just on the kindness of strangers. I can be bold and different and unique by myself in this immense, immense world and create that kindness because I am strong enough to do so alone. So now, I am going to put on my swimsuit, grab my sweet husband and take him to that beach. We are going to longboard and explore and eat at the cute Mexican food dive and buy a taco from the side of the road. We will be friendly and kind as we do so. Even though the water is freezing and today is cloudy, we are going to jump in. We are going to dive into the immensity, and most importantly, we will NOT get lost.
