Freeways

Los Angeles is a very crowded city filled with many cars on what seems like one long freeway that stretches from one end of the world to the other. Occasionally, I need to look up at the green sign above, which kindly informs me of my whereabouts when my mind has wandered elsewhere. The 10 leads me home no matter how far away I have traveled while the 110 leads through downtown which is a beautiful drive at night, but can be a frustrating parking lot through which to navigate between 3 PM - 7 PM. The 5 leads to recovery in Glendale, serenity in Griffith Park, and to the 134, which is the road I take to visit my parents buried in their final resting place. The 405 begins a journey of a different kind, as a drive through its windy canyons leads me to the 101, which takes me back through childhood memories that for years I did my best to erase. The 2 is a peaceful ride, gradually elevating until it reaches the 210, which is a scenic drive through the northern foothills and a reminder that Los Angeles is more than just a crowded city filled with dreamers willing to sacrifice their souls for a few seconds in the glaring spotlight.

The freeways here in Los Angeles all lead to destinations found within myriads and tapestries that weave circles of time through lives seemingly disconnected by a chilling randomness that befuddles the rational mind in search of explanations to traffic patterns. Sometimes the going is easy and clear, and the freeways seem like a magical carpet ride guided by a gentle and benevolent wind. Yet, my foot always remains but a heartbeat above the brake, for in the time it takes my heart to skip a beat, the magical carpet is capable of being sucked down into an abyss of frustration and insanity cunningly disguised as a traffic jam. During these moments, my life feels like it has come to a sudden and inexplicable halt, as my foot is forced against its will to continuously press down on the brake. In an effort to ease my suffering, I will sometimes be courageous and attempt to make eye contact with the surrounding drivers, but usually find that my stares are met back with blank and unresponsive expressions. I am convinced that the traffic would be much easier to tolerate if we the drivers were to simply exit our vehicles and enjoy a leisurely stroll down the freeway with one another in route to our destinations. Perhaps the going would be much slower, but I am convinced we would arrive at our destinations happier people.

I have moved to Los Angeles twice in my life, once was in the summer of 1985 right before my 12th birthday and the second time was in June 2010, right before my 37th birthday. The first time I moved here was upon the completion of an eight day trip from Orlando with my father, brother, and dog, Winston. We drove the scenic route from Florida, avoiding the boring stretches of the 10 through the South along the way. But we met up with the 10 somewhere in Arizona and rode into California in the dawning hours of an early summer day. The sunrise in the desert that morning is sketched into my memory as one of the most beautiful spectacles I have ever witnessed. The second time I moved here was last summer, and this time I traveled the road alone. There was no beautiful early morning sunrise, as I drove into California through the middle of the night, hours before the sun was scheduled to awaken. This time I came in from New Mexico on the 40, meeting up with the 15 in Barstow, then taking the 60 into Los Angeles, where eventually the peak of the rush hour snarl would add an additional two hours to an already lengthy and tiring trip. I did, however enjoy watching the sun settle into its place high in the morning sky through my rearview mirror as I plodded along at single digit speeds, which eventually led me to the 10. Finally, I was home again.

I was disappointed that there was no magestic sunrise that greeted my arrival upon my second coming to California. I was disheartened in fact, that my welcome back party stalled on a crowded freeway for two hours longer than I expected. But I will gladly trade the heavenly sunrise for the true love and happiness I hope to find in California this time around.