Me and Los Angeles are still in a pretty healthy relationship with one another, though I did go try to cheat on LA last December. I had a wintertime romance with a small college town in Georgia, but even the small college town knew it wasn’t the right place for me.
One of my must-dos on any trip is to look at old things and/or attempt to purchase old things. I’m like a less ballsy American Pickers (in that I don’t knock on the doors of strangers living in rural areas with large barns – that sounds like the beginning of a slasher film). I love antique stores, especially the warehouse kind with lots of little stalls with all sorts of odds and ends.
While having my wintertime fling with small town Georgia I drove out into the country to one of the nearest antique emporiums to see what unusual old Georgian junk I could buy that would fit in a carry on bag and get through airport security scanners. As I scanned row after row of homey needlepoint kitchen towels, yawn inducing repro tin signs, and old empty food jars, I came across an original fruit crate label that asked to be taken home and nailed to my bedroom wall.
Yay! It was the perfect size souvenir and TSA approved. I looked at the fine print on the label to see what part of Georgia this fruit came from……and found out that this was a label for grapes grown in Los Angeles. Exactly where I’d flown 5-ish hours from. I think it was a sign.
I haven’t entirely sworn off rural Georgia (or rural anywhere else), but I realized I needed a little more time with my underdog metropolis before I was ready to look for other pastures (or skyscrapers). There are other more complicated reasons beyond a piece of 90 year old paper, but sharing that info is for the future when I have greater distance and perspective on things.
Since moving to my current abode it’s been the longest time I’ve spent anywhere since I was a high school kid, which is both sort of nice (who really likes the physical aspect of moving?) and sort of antsy inducing (where to next? go! go! go!).
I’ve been keeping my antsy at bay with little trips here and there. Last weekend I drove out to Tucson and Phoenix and got to try a date shake, see part of the Romance and Sex Life of the Date film, visit the final resting pyramid of 19th century U.S. Camel Corp member Hi Jolly (aka Hadji Ali), and attend a fan reunion festival for a 1960s/1970s Western television show for work. All and all a pretty good miniadventure and proof that there’s still plenty to see in the southwest.