I Hate LA (2) - Welcome to LA

In January 2022 I began looking for a new city to move to. Though I liked Charlotte, NC as a city, I had a strong distaste for my airline job site. I figured I could find a larger station, with more flexibility and room for growth. At a bigger site, the opportunities are better, and I could actually use the flight benefits that I had joined the company for in the first place. To get the entire perspective, I should mention that I simultaneously work in marketing remotely. This affords me the privilege of peace of mind when it came to moving.

In an effort to relocate as quickly as possible with the airline, I started applying for everything that could exist in a larger airport. It became workplace comedy as it was very clear that I was trying to find a way out there. “Payroll Processor, what do they do?” I would ask my supervisor. “Okay, cool, I can do that.” “What about mail room operations? You think I’m qualified for that?” – I went on like that for months. With every application I sent off for a different airport, in a different city, I weighed out my options. Housing, weather, affordability, transportation, work/life balance, food, dating, and comforts for my 80lb Labrador Retriever all played a part in my thought process as I decided what was best for me. Boston was too cold. Detroit was basically like going back home. Miami, I imagined was a party all the time. This put New York or Atlanta at the top of my list.

I love New York City. I had lived there before, and my memories were mostly good. I had connections and met some great people over the years and could even figure out some inexpensive places to live, but I now had an 80lb dog, Babe, and working at the airport would be a trek every day. The small apartment and roommate living were perfect my first go around but the more I thought about it, the more I realized it wouldn’t be a good fit for my dog. I’d be paying for dog walkers and by the time I would make it back home every day, I’d be too tired to work my remote job or interact with my dog. There were several flaws in that plan.

Atlanta would be a better option for my dog but not so much for me. The ATL was where a lot of people from my hometown moved, so I had plenty of connections. One of my closest friends was there and she expressed excitement at the idea of me moving there. The airline is headquartered there, and I’d be sure to have more flexibility. It even seemed like a perfect fit for my dog, but Atlanta never seemed like a good fit for me, it just wasn’t my vibe. Single life seems depressing there and every time I visited, I noticed an air of sleaze looming that I didn’t want to fight through while I searched for my niche or tribe.

While I continued to apply for random positions within the airline, my aunt called me, and we talked about turning her 3-bedroom condo into an Airbnb. This is a conversation that we’ve had before over the years, but this time it resonated differently. I knew since traveling to LA as a pre-teen, that it wasn’t where I saw my final destination, but I thought that it wouldn’t hurt to investigate it. I quickly saw that the condo was only ten minutes away from LAX. The weather is almost perfect. If I had secure housing and only had a ten-minute commute, it would be affordable, and I would have enough space, time and attention to continue being a dog mom. I figured I could easily find things to do after work. It would be the first city that I moved to where my family was close, I wouldn’t have to prove that I made 3xs the rent, or come up with the first and last month's deposits and I assumed the rest would fall into place. Since the pandemic had taken a lot from me emotionally and financially, I was looking for a mental break more than anything. As I started to lean my applications towards LAX, I stopped paying attention to how LA never passed the vibe check for me.

Los Angeles is a city that's renowned for its sunny climate, beautiful beaches, and thriving entertainment industry. However, but those things never moved me, LA isn't for everyone. In fact, there are many things about LA that people absolutely hate. After deciding to move here the conversations always moved towards how expensive it is and how bad the traffic is. Those weren’t my issues. My salary almost doubled due to the cost-of-living difference, at the airline and my housing cost panned out to be cheaper than what I was paying in Charlotte. I decided not to drive my Honda CRV twenty-five hundred miles across the country, but being so close to the airport and living a few blocks from the train station, I had several options to get to work within 15-20 minutes. I did not miss my car. While everyone was being stressed out by gas prices, I was still enjoying a side effect of the pandemic, free train rides. An Uber was $12 at most. One morning I left my badge at home, so I had to catch an Uber home and back to still make it to the time clock in time. I could breathe knowing I wasn’t spending hours in traffic just sitting like the rest of my transferring classmates complained about.

The worksite even seemed to be more pleasant. There was more diversity, and the communication was clear. When Charlotte was making my transition difficult, LAX got involved and made me feel welcome. Things were really looking up. In the 1st week, I had to go to the badging office on the other side of the airport campus. I was told the pandemic had changed the airport shuttle system so the best way to get there was to take an Uber since I did not have my car. And so I did. In minutes a royal blue Tesla pulled up in front of me. Inside was a sleek black interior and the driver looked like a handsome version of Black Jesus. I knew I had made a better decision, but that was in the workplace, not the city of Los Angeles.

After a few weeks, I was thrust into a new schedule that had me getting off of work after midnight. I couldn’t take the train home that late at night since the last ride was at midnight and Uber was expensive if taken from inside the airport, so I decided to take a cab. That system seemed very pandemicky. We stood at a distance, in a single file line while someone guided us to the next cab in an orderly fashion. When it was my turn to be placed in a cab, I noticed the driver seemed irritated. I was then ushered into the back of the cab and the driver dryly ask if I had any luggage. I replied, “No. I work here” and I swear I saw an eye roll. The cab driver then asked if I knew where I was going, and as I said the address, he aggressively pulled at his seat belt and asked if I knew how to get there. “I’m unsure sir, can you put it in the GPS?” I replied – He belted back “You don’t know where you are going?” – “I don’t know how to give you the directions.” I responded. “Humph!” He huffed, smacked his lips, and groaned. The ride home was in complete silence while he shuffled all over the road, making sharp turns and going well over the speed limit, driving like her was in a rush to get this ride over with. Once he reached my home, while paying though the card reader, someone walked up to the car to ask the driver a question, the cabbie quickly rolled up his window and sped off before I stepped completely out of the street.

This went on with every cab ride for about a week. Finally, I asked the driver, “Why do you all have such an attitude when I get in these cabs? Are you upset because I live so close? Did you want a more costly ride?” The cab driver hangs his arm on the back side of the passenger seat, turns to look at me and says, “No! You fit the description of someone that’s not gonna pay” – I reached my hand up to my neck to clutch my imaginary pearls in complete shock. How was I in full uniform, with my stockings and pumps and badge in plain sight, while still in the airport parking lot fitting the description of someone that wouldn’t pay for a fifteen-dollar ride? I didn’t say another word. It was 1 am and I just wanted to get home safely. I stewed in my thoughts as the audaciousness of that comment lingered. I let my mind play back the various incidents that had happened thus far and it started to make sense. This was an ISM. I was being prejudged, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of race or class or whatever they thought of me. They didn’t hide their distaste for me and were quite matter-of-fact about it. I decided right then that I’d never ride in a cab again. That was just the beginning of that feeling. The feeling that I made others uncomfortable by just being in the same space as them. That's the part of LA, City of Angels that they don't talk about.