A Day in Santa Monica

"Taking steps is easy, standing still is hard." - Regina Spektor

I thrive off of forward motion, so naturally road trips are the ultimate remedy. I love the indescribable feeling of houses, people and cities whizzing past and becoming tiny in the rearview mirror at highway speeds. On a road trip, I can get out of the car, take in my surroundings, and move on in time to forget anything worth forgetting. Fueled by gas, impatience, and curiosity I can hit the road in any direction at the change of a light.

For that reason, the infamous traffic of Los Angeles scared an entire car of road-tripping girlfriends short on time. Julia, Kristie and I all theorized about the traffic patterns of a city we'd never been to:

"Rush hour has to be over by 10am right? So if we leave San Fransisco by seven..."

"I bet lunch is hard to get around, so we have two hours in Hermosa Beach before we have to head towards Hollywood."

"Google maps says no."

It took twenty minutes to find parking at Santa Monica beach alone. When we finally parked and looked out, more discourse began. Julia wanted to stay. We hadn't had a beach day yet, and this seemed like the perfect place to get some sun and relax. Kristie wanted to absorb all things pop culture, and was the Hollywood vote. I was the deciding factor. 

My first instinct was to get to the next place. I wanted to get in the car and drive to the next bigger and better thing. It was in my nature--the same way I moved colleges, then cities, then countries so easily and so often. But it was a beautiful day. There was a ferris wheel and famous corn dogs, ice cream stands and acrobats in the park. There were kitschy tourist shops, an aquarium, and an heart-wrenching singer-songwriter at the end of the pier, where Route 66 finally arrived at the Pacific Ocean. 

We'd see Hollywood another time.