The 405... don't bother

At about this time about half of us are sitting on that concrete monstrosity known to all as the I-405 freeway. At this time of day it's more like a parking lot than a freeway. You probably have the radio turned on, and since we're in LA, those radio folks are nice enough to provide us with a traffic report-- so you can know just how screwed you are after a long day's work. Have you noticed, however, that traffic reports no longer mention the 405 freeway?

I realized this yesterday. At around 5:30pm, the height of rush hour, I had the horrendous task of attempting to get from the Jefferson Blvd on-ramp to the 101 freeway. I tuned in to KNX 1070 to hear more bad news about our economy. What better way to distract yourself from bad traffic than to listen to bad news about the economy?

5:35pm. My tires finished one complete rotation. Basically, I moved a couple inches in five minutes. I turn the radio up when the traffic report starts, hoping to find out why the 405 was so jammed. The reported went down the list. The I-5, the 605, the 10, and some freeways I've yet to loathe. The report ended with no mention of the 405. Then I realized, that's not the first time they failed to report the 405.

My first conclusion was maybe they just don't bother reporting traffic on the 405 since it's pretty much a given. The 405 is synonymous with traffic, wasted time, and misery. I'm surprised they don't just say, "The 405... don't bother. Ask the person in the car next to you to shoot you; because you're not going anywhere."

In all honesty, that was the only conclusion I came to. If you happen to know why the radio announcers don't report the 405 traffic, please leave a comment! I'd really like to know.

Until next time!

Only in LA.

Be Careful What You Wish For

Remember that blog post I wrote a while back? On January 24, 2007, to be exact. It went something like, "Houses in LA are so expensive. I mean really expensive! Seriously, what's going on? How am I supposed to buy a house in LA when it's so expensive? I wish houses weren't so f-in expensive." Sound familiar? Scroll down if you need to refresh your memory... or read it for the first time.

Over a year later, I got my wish. In March of this year the LA Times reported that house prices in LA dropped 26% from a year ago, bringing the median house price to $409,240. "On a percentage basis, the California price meltdown is more than three times as severe as the national decline of 8.2% (Viles)

So translation: houses are no longer so expensive! I can even entertain the idea of jumping in the market. This is good news until you start to think about what had to happen to get to this point. You don't even have to think about it. It's on the news everyday: Zero percent interest rates, soaring house prices, greed all around, then reality kicks in. People's mortgage payments jump, they can't keep up, they default on their mortgage and the market is flooded with foreclosed houses. The law of supply and demand makes its appearance and house prices go back down.

So yeah, houses in LA are more affordable but at the expense of thousands of severely cash strapped homeowners. 

Hiatus

Indefinitely.

The city that never evolves

“Welcome to Los Angeles International Airport. Temperature is seventy-one degrees Fahrenheit with a few clouds. Visibility is hindered by a thick layer of smog, as is typical of L.A. Your time now is 3:28pm Los Angeles time. Please keep your seat belts fastened as we taxi to the gate. As your captain, I would like to thank you for choosing to fly with us. We look forward to serving you again in the near future.” *Ding!*

As I arrived off the plane, fresh with east-west jet lag and a bitter longing for Manhattan, my emotions plunged into familiar feelings of resentment—resentment toward L.A. Feelings that I usually keep at bay by cruising West Hollywood or taking the Red Line downtown. So deep was my resentment this time that not even the subsequent Grey’s Anatomy celebrity sighting could uplift me.

4pm: I dragged my suitcase to the FlyAway bus stop, coughing on car exhaust and persistent smog as I waited... and waited... and waited for a bus that was to pick me up from LAX and take me to the Valley, all in rush hour traffic. For what seemed like an eternity of waiting, I had nothing to do but dwell—dwell on all the ways that New York is better than L.A. Before this turns into a L.A-bashing article, I will point out that in L.A. the streets and sidewalks are a lot cleaner. But aside from aesthetics, New York is fundamentally different from L.A. As I waited still for the FlyAway bus in front of the United Airlines terminal, I decided to list all the ways that New York is better than L.A. I had gone a considerable way into my list when I realized, is it fair to compare apples to oranges? New York and L.A. are both cities, qualified as such by characteristics as being large and overpopulated. But does L.A. even qualify as a real city?

So instead of listing the ways in which New York is better than L.A., it seems that L.A.’s inadequacies may be explained by the premise that L.A. is not even a “real city.”

So set in my thesis, I listed the top 3 reasons why L.A. is not a real city, which I will present now:

1. No public transportation (the bus doesn’t count)— In all of the major cities I’ve been fortunate enough to travel to, they all have been able to boast one common thing: an intricate public railway system, supplemented, of course, by an equally intricate bus system. London, Paris, New York, even Prague all have an extensive rail system, in addition to buses. And they haven’t stopped expanding them. L.A. has some rail—a mere 73 miles of track for a city stretching 500 square miles. It is not nearly adequate or interconnected enough to serve the whole city. You can’t even get to LAX via rail. And don’t even think about going by bus, unless you’re in the immediate vicinity of the airport.

Bus travel in L.A is inherently complex, and not in a good way. While bus service is available all over the city, it is riddled with transfers and traffic inefficiencies that it makes the entire system an option of ultimate last resort. No automobile-owning citizen of L.A. would willingly take the bus, understandably so. A bus system as complex as Paris’ rail system does little to benefit a city defined by traffic.

2. No pedestrians— Unless you’re on Hollywood Boulevard on a Saturday night, you’d be hard pressed to find a pedestrian in L.A. who isn’t waiting for the bus, walking to a bus stop, or walking to their car. In New York, I was suspicious of an empty sidewalk. It seemed foreboding, almost like a ghost town had suddenly sprung up. But it was rare to find an empty sidewalk.

Pedestrians bring life to a city. They give it a sense of community and intimacy. Without them a city seems sterile and vacant, and even lonely. L.A. has a lot of empty sidewalks.

3. No public space— In New York, there’s a park on every corner; and people utilize them. Rome has public squares where people can, and do, eat, socialize, and collect a few euros by posing as human statues. Sure L.A. has parks, but how many people actually go? Most childless Angelenos go to the mall more often than they go to a park.

For a city with 8,000 people per square mile it is remarkable that the most interaction we have with complete strangers occurs on the freeway in our cars or at the check out line in whatever stores we frequent.

While L.A. has much to boast, like aesthetic cleanliness and fair weather, I fear this city, which has been my home since birth, has become complacent, relying on its reputation of glitz, glamour, and good weather to keep its appeal. But with the economy going the direction it is, L.A.'s leaders and planners need to step up and start giving Angelenos the services and spaces they deserve.

Earth Day L.A.- A critique.

The 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica is one of the best shopping locations in L.A. United Colors of Benetton, Puma, Lucky-- it's where trendiness goes to be sold out. So, naturally, it's the perfect location for an Earth Day festival, right?

I didn't think so, either.

In case you missed it, Saturday was the Earth Day Festival held at the 3rd Street Promenade. How does one celebrate Earth Day in L.A., you ask. By selling stuff, of course! Earth-friendly stuff, mind you. Now, technically, Saturday was not Earth Day. It's actually on the 22nd. But as I browsed through hemp shirts, surrounded by the mansions of fashion, I couldn't ignore the ambivalence I felt about the entire situation. As I was mulling over whether or not to spend $30 on a long sleeved hemp shirt, my friend whispered to me, "3rd Street is a very materialistic place to hold a festival about the environment." My thoughts exactly.

I didn't buy the shirt.

My point is, shouldn't an Earth Day festival entail some sort of Earth-improving activity, besides test driving an electric car? The Earth Day Festival was an opportunity for environmental organizations to organize some sort of environmental clean up activity. 3rd Street is seconds away from the beach, yet the words 'beach clean up' never crossed anyone's lips. I don't know who organized the festival, but I couldn't help feeling like they could have done more than present us with (independent) vendors hocking environmentally-friendly wares.

Earth Day could be a day where, instead of driving, everyone decides to carpool, or walk, or dare I say, ride the bus for a day. It could be a day where instead of going to work we all clean up a beach. Instead, we as a community were given the choice to buy a hemp shirt or an electric vehicle. Neither of these are bad things; but it seems to me that lately the only way we're told to make a difference is to buy things.

The kicker: none of the vendors offered energy saving light bulbs. Nobody handed out flyers printed on recycled paper about how to reduce your energy use. I'm all for giving independent artisans a place to sell their crafts, but consumption will not save the Earth. But if you live in L.A., they'd sure like you to think it will.

The best burrito in L.A.! Period!

I know, I know. You've probably already heard this from someone else before. Someone claiming to know where you can get the best burrito in town. Well, unless they were talking about Ramona's, they're wrong.


The Ramona's on Redondo Beach Blvd. & Crenshaw Blvd.

Forget Baja Fresh, Rubio's, or any other McMexican food franchise out there. Once you've had a Ramona's burrito, your taste buds will not accept anything else. It's just that good! My parents have been taking me here since I could eat solid food and, I have to say, nothing comes close to the perfection that is a Ramona's burrito.

I suggest starting with the Fried Bean and Cheese with rice burrito. It's a nice introduction to what will soon become your most delicious addiction ever. Everything about this burrito is perfect. The beans are cooked to fried beany perfection. The rice mixes harmoniously with the beans to create an inseparable combination of rice-y, beany yummy goodness!

Okay... obviously I'm having trouble expressing in words just how good this burrito is; which is all the more reason why you should haul ass down to one of their three locations and try it out:

Ramona's Mexican Food Products
16300 Crenshaw Boulevard
Torrance, CA 90504-1439
Phone: (310) 516-9757
(This one is across the street from El Camino College.)

13633 South Western Avenue
Gardena, CA 90249-2503
Phone: (310) 323-1950
(This one has a convenient walk up window... you know, for when you're in a hurry... yeah.)

6900 South San Pedro Street
Los Angeles, CA 90003-2212
Phone: (323) 752-4191
(I've never been to this one.)

I've taken a couple of very lucky people to this establishment and they have done nothing but beg me to take them back. My personal addictions... um, I mean favorites are the Fried Bean and Cheese w/Rice burrito and the Beef and Potato. I've heard great things about the Chili Relleno burrito, as well.


Some info if you're a first timer
- Cash only. No bills larger than $20 accepted.
- There's limited seating, so make a picnic of it.
- This place isn't known for fast service. It's known for good burritos! So expect a few minues of waiting, especially during the lunch time rush.
- At the time of writing there has been no support group established for "heavy users." Please eat responsibly.

Um... P.S. They do bulk orders, too.


-Only in L.A.

Three's a crowd

Smog and Mirrors was never intended to be a celeb obsessed smut blog in the vein of Perez Hilton's creation. But living and partying in L.A. requires you every once in a while to witness some weirdness; and if you're lucky a 15 minute celebrity might involved! Call it a true "only in L.A." moment.

Case in point. Friday night. I arranged a meet up with a friend of mine in WeHo (West Hollywood). After some cruising, we landed at Here, a popular LGBT night spot off Santa Monica Blvd.

This particular night was all girls night. Girls who like girls. Girls who were boys but like girls. And a few boys who like boys. Anywho.

We got there around 11:30pm and made a beeline for the bathroom for some routine maintenance. On the way to the bathroom, I noticed a lot of girls just standing by the wall. "Lonely girls," I thought. No-- turns out that was the line for the bathroom!

Now, genetically, I lack anything resembling patience. What patience I have, I fake. So, we gave up on the line without trying and instead opted for a drink at the bar to wait out the bathroom line. But considering how long it took to get the bartender's attention, we would've been better off just waiting in the bathroom line.

I know what you're thinking at this point. You're probably wanting me to shut up and get to the "celeb" stuff, right? Alright, I'll fast forward-- Fergalicious.exotic dancing.mystery drink.back in line.

So, we eventually make it to the front of the bathroom line on our second attempt. I guess the scantily clad bartenders doing a provocative dance on the bar made everyone in line forget they had to pee. Now, here's where the famous-ish person makes her appearance. Now, because the person involved is a public figure in a public place and what I'm writing is true, legally I can name names without fear of a defamation or libel or privacy lawsuit. So here it goes:

Jackie Warner. If you're a lesbian or watched an ounce of Bravo TV last summer you'd know her as the "power lesbian" personal trainer to the stars. She owns her own gym right here in L.A., the inner workings of which, and not to mention her life, were documented in her Bravo reality series Work Out.

Anyway, we were at the front of the line, which was growing longer with every breath, when Ms. Warner and her girlfriend, who could pass as a younger Jackie Warner, enter through the opposite entrance, which also had a line extended out onto the dance floor. The two of them bypass the line and wait near the sinks for a stall. Judging from Jackie's appearance, she'd had a couple drinks and spilled a couple (or was spilled on), as well. Beside the point.

The bathroom attendant, a seemingly misplaced average built man, told the couple to wait in line. So Jackie and her girlfriend stand in front of my friend and me. Who didn't see that coming? The bathroom attendant then tells them again to wait at the end of the line.

Now, I'm not saying I'm clairvoyant or anything, but ... I'll just say there was something in the air. Maybe it was the dizzying amount of air freshener the bathroom attendant had just sprayed, maybe it was all the fierce girl energy from all the estrogen cramped into such a small space, but I started feel a sort of synapse in the air. The same one I seem to feel whenever a celebrity, or in this case a niche celebrity, is near. I don't always feel it but when I do, I know something is about to happen.

Before I could finish that thought, I snapped back to reality to witness Jackie and her girlfriend rushing into a bathroom stall while the bathroom attendant rushed in after them trying to get them out, verbally. Jackie and "young Jackie" (I don't know her girlfriend's name) refused to get out of the stall and went about their "business" (I use the word "business" loosely) despite the bathroom attendant's presence. Someone should have told that guy not to mess with two lesbians in a bathroom stall.

Somehow, the bathroom attendant ended up losing that battle (surprise, surprise!), ultimately finding himself on the other side of the door! And the (porcelain) trophy goes to Ms. and Ms. Warner. Well done, ladies!

Off the record (but really on the record since I'm posting this online), Ms. Warner & Co. were still in the stall when we left the bathroom.

I feel like I should take a moment to thank them for the spectacle. It provided some much needed hilariousness to my otherwise stressful week and soon to be stressful weekend!

Only in L.A.