I lived in Los Angeles for several years, having moved there from upstate New York. The summer after I graduated university I was in that familiar post-grad crisis stage of “what am I going to do with my life?” and decided to jump on a plane bound for sunny SoCal to pursue a dream of filmmaking (abandoning my degree in finance and, I’m sure, causing my parents immense despair).
I had never been to California before, let alone lived in a city, and I excited. As a lifelong film fanatic, I had Hollywood images seared into my brain of what Los Angeles was: beaches, pool parties in the hills, valet parking, and perfect weather 350 days of the year. Yes, I had read about the atrocious traffic, the intense smog, the gang violence, etc., but I was positive that those things were overblown.