I Love L.A.
The weather is great in Southern California right now. Sunshine and warm weather suits me fine. Friends of mine that still live out East or in the Midwest always want me to feel guilty because they don't enjoy such great weather. To them I say, "suck it." If it is so miserable in Chicago than get the eff out. It's the same weather every year. They can't possibly think that this coming November is going to be a glorious 80 degrees for two weeks. They can't possibly think that once spring breaks that it won't be cold again until December.
"This winter," I would declare, "is going to be my last." Every winter that I spent in the Midwest I uttered that statement. It was usually preceded by an expletive. I said it every year until 2006 when I actually packed my bags and left.
I bought a first class ticket to LAX due to depart on December 1, 2006. I spent the last week of November packing. Actually, I spent the last two or three days of November packing (I am a master procrastinator). November 30 began with a strange chill in the air. The weatherman's forecast said snow and we got snow...A lot of snow. It snowed through the afternoon. And through the evening. And through the night. My flight, which was one of the earliest scheduled flights, was cancelled. Of course, I couldn't get away that easy.
The next day, December 2, 2006, I was on the earliest flight from Chicago to LAX. My brother Alan picked me up at the airport. It was so warm, I think about 78-80 degrees. We ate lunch on the patio of a West Hollywood restaurant. It was so warm that I had to go to the bathroom to take off some clothes.
L.A. is a weird little town full of weird little people but damn, I love the weather.