My Big Adventure # 602002

Gone were the days of twenty minute treks to the cold smoke of Bridger Bowl, endless sky, miles of open space, and the small town of Bozeman, Montana, I had called home for 18 years. Through the clear double paned glass I saw buildings reaching out like multiple tributaries converging at an unknown location, tucked into bed by a haze blanket. “Welcome to Los Angeles.”


I had been to Los Angeles on two previous, short vacations. I realized I was slightly crazy to move to a place where I had not spent sufficient time, had no cell phone, no car, no computer, and faced the small endeavor of starting my college courses in a couple days.


After a 5 minute self-therapy session of accepting my predicament and a quick pep talk, I was back to my composed, determined self. This is what I had always wanted since my pioneering adventure days as an 8 year old exploring the hills behind my house on L Street. I now had the opportunity to explore these hills.


I quickly learned the value of asking the right questions, prioritizing, and familiarizing myself with the city. I discovered the survival guide of walking and using the transit system in order to quickly learn my surroundings. The pitfalls for instance, were the Twilight Zone-like episodes of a homeless man dressed as a priest performing an exorcism on another individual dressed like a leprechaun and the bus breaking down, or a man the age of my grandfather proposing marriage, and an elderly woman explaining the secret of peeling an orange. Just as odd, this was not a walking conducive city. The sidewalks ended like a Silverstein illustration and I stood out like an alien on the empty pedestrian streets.


I was amidst exhaust, cars galore and an orchestra of breaks, sirens, and blaring stereos. Traffic bounced around like a pin ball game and the ground was shaken easily and often by earthquakes, trucks and helicopters. Everything was close together, roads spanned from the beach to infinity, and the Spanish language infusion was illuminated in the street names, businesses and architecture. The gray buildings and streets were a contradiction to the weather; continuous sunny days were interrupted by only a few rainy ones with little change in season.


The plastic dolls I was expecting to encounter were the opposite; varied, open, and friendly. Tourists flocked to this tinsel town to catch a whiff of the ocean air and see the sites of Hollywood. Other people flocked here in search of their pot of gold. I did not fit into either of these categories. With time I met more genuine kindred spirits.


In the midst of this chaos, I felt what Aron Rolston equated to the feeling of euphoria he achieves alone in the outdoors… a peace and feeling of being alive. My big adventure was the beginning to many great discoveries of opportunity, diversity, and vibrancy in a city I now call home.