Take 1: Adventures in La La Land

More Real Than Real

I could see it from the airplane; the illustrious “Hollywood” sign. We were approaching LAX and, shockingly, I could see it. I was pretty surprised I could see the neon signs donning the roads leading up to it from the plane. What was even more bizarre was the crying baby…until I realized I was sleeping, cramped in a ball in my aisle seat on Northwest flight 327, Detroit to Los Angeles.

There is something surreal, or more accurately put, hyperreal about this place. I feel like I’ve been here a million times, so when I whipped down Sunset Blvd, the 405 and Santa Monica Blvd earlier, I felt surprisingly comfortable. Eating dinner tonight at Ketchup on Sunset was really cool. Of course, I recognized the place from when Brody and LC had dinner there a few seasons ago on The Hills.

LA is one of those places that is reproduced so consistently in the media that for people who have never even been here before it feels familiar. There is something comforting, but also slightly disconcerting about that. While I feel like I know the City of Angels, I had a reality check earlier, reminding me that I’ve been here a mere day.

I made the executive decision earlier to head to Rodeo Drive. So, being the 21st century, techno-savvy navigator that I am (or un-savvy, as you’ll find out), I plugged “Rodeo Drive” into my handy GPS. (I was in Glendale at the time). I didn’t have an exact address so I had the GPS use the “anywhere” function for Rodeo. A couple of freeways and streets later the GPS told me that I had “reached my destination”. Only the factories and graffiti surrounding me told me a different story. After driving around a bit searching for my beloved Chanel, Gucci and Prada, I realized I was completely in the wrong area, Culver City, to be accurate. Only, at the time, I didn’t have a map, so I had NO idea where I had landed. Later I found out not only had I not been in Beverly Hills, but I had been on Rodeo Drive (Rodeo, as in cowboys), not the Rodeo (accent egu) Drive, of Pretty Woman fame. I eventually decided to type “Chanel” into my now loathed GPS (important lessons learned in LA #1: GPSs don’t discriminate. Word emphasis and accents mean nothing to them. Their job is to get you to your destination as fast as possible, regardless of which neighborhoods that means trekking through). After following several GPS commands, Cavalli, Ferragamo, Fendi, and of course, Chanel, finally appeared amid Christmas-light-clad palm trees. I had arrived, and yet another moment of hyperreality ascended upon me. I’ve been here before, I thought to myself. But no, I really hadn’t. That’s the thing about LA...you never have to be here to be here.