Toto, I don’t believe we’re in Kansas anymore.
Ruth saved me from a UHaul and offered her truck services, despite her misgivings about my decision. Riding into West Hollywood, the old Toyota packed to the brim with as many shoes and and furniture pieces I could fit, there was a picture of Dorothy’s ruby slippers on a lamp post. I don’t know if this was a welcome for “friends of Dorothy” or a sign that there is no place like home, but either way it was oddly reassuring as I asked myself repeatedly if this whole plan was a gigantor mistake. I sat in the back seat (which if you have ever ridden in that spot from SF to LA you know the pain), peering around a vintage lamp, craning my neck for a view. Cecilia remarked cynically that Los Angeles was the darkest sunny place she had ever been and it’s not too late to change your mind...we can turn around. I shook my head but have to admit that it was not the most convincing no. Admittedly, I was feeling the pain of my abrupt decision and I had forgot to pack my heart when I was leaving San Francisco.
We finally pulled up to a chic apartment building. My apartment building. I fell ungracefully out of my cramped position, narrowly catching the lamp before it crashed to the ground along with me. Immediately, I was slammed in the face with a hot Santa Ana wind and the smell of garlic plants, which are everywhere in LA. Of course my brow immediately broke out in a sweat--I am a Northern California heat wimp after all. Ruth and Cecilia decided to wait at the truck with my loot while I got into my new place.
I climbed a wrought iron winding staircase to the top floor and knocked, more aggressively than I meant to. My hand may or may not have been shaking a little.
After what seemed a lifetime (in which I fully considered the price to my bank account as well as pride if I took Cecilia up on the return trip), the door swung open. Leaning casually in its frame was a very tall, very thin girl, with huge navy eyes and a black mohawk. Her entire right arm was covered in a tattoo of a 50‘s pinup. Wowsa.
Leah. You must be Louise.
You win this time Leah (I thought) and said Hey yep.
Welcome to Los Angeles Louise. Come on I’ll show you the place.
I followed her lanky gait down a narrow mahogany floored hall into a large modern living room. Two girls sat on a long orange couch drinking beers and listening the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.
The blonde immediately jumped up and hugged me.
Louise! You’re here! Yay! I’m Kim! That’s Andi! she pointed to her girlfriend sitting still. Andi saluted me with her bottle of Stella. Let’s go see your room. Where are your friends? Ohmygod are you just so excited? I am so glad you are here it is gonna be great you’re gonna love it here, I just know it. We are going to Truck Stop tomorrow you have to come I already put you and the girls on the guest list. Where are the girls? Come on you have to see your room!
Wowsa.
Kim grabbed my arm and pulled me through the room, past an incredible urban kitchen of stainless steel and all state of the art amenities. Maybe I will learn how to cook. She dragged me down the narrow hallway, which had tall ceilings and skylights with white light streaming through. We passed three bedrooms that were a blur in her her rush, as well as two bathrooms I would have to investigate later. My room was last in the series. And it left me speechless.
The ceiling was extremely high with different angles jutting into one another. One wall consisted entirely of floor to ceiling windows, off of which was a balcony. It was white, elegant, and completely 21st century...the opposite of my tiny vintage apartment in San Francisco. I literally moved into a fresh slate.
Amazing right? Love it. If it wasn’t the smaller one Andi and I would have totally grabbed it. (Small? I laughed to myself). I think it will be just perfect for you Louise you are going to fit right in you won’t believe it.
Kim kept up the high paced dialogue with herself as we walked back down the hall. She followed me outside to fetch C and Ruth who were at once highly amused and taken back by her incessant chatting.
My new roommates helped my old friends and me dump the contents of my life from the truck to my room. Evening came and it was time to go out on the town and check out the scene. My first night in Los Angeles. Truck Stop in WeHO (aka West Hollywood, gay and lezzie central).
I walked in. And I was alive. I felt on top of the world...a euphoria usually only achieved through great triumphs, amazing sex, or recreational drug use. Girls akin to pussy cat dolls danced on the bar. Women in designer clothes, butch, femme, and everything in between danced....the most sexy women...style that was just beyond. I stood in a corner sipping champagne and pondering myself when a tall blonde grabbed my wrist and said NEW GIRL and pulled me onto the dance floor, which was a sweaty writhing mass. All of a sudden I felt like my Louboutins grew wings and i was flying and Shit. LA felt like a world away from San Francisco. An alternate universe. One that I was going to have to learn how to navigate and figure out but damnit I was going to.
Toto, we most definitely are not in Kansas anymore. We may have arrived.
Always,
Louise
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