The Drive Is Part of It

People in LA will sit in an hour of traffic for a bowl of noodles.

Newport Seafood in Alhambra has a wait that regularly stretches past 45 minutes, and still, people drive from Santa Monica, from Long Beach, from wherever they are, because they've decided it's worth it. Nobody questions that drive. Nobody asks why it isn't closer.

That's the thing about this city it was never built to be centralized. It's built as a collection of entire worlds, each one distinct enough to be worth the trip. Koreatown feels nothing like Chinatown. Glendale, with its Armenian bakeries and Russian markets, feels nothing like Pasadena. You don't drive across LA expecting sameness. You drive across it because everywhere holds something different, and the good stuff has never lived conveniently close to everything else.

I think about that a lot when someone hesitates on the drive to see me.

Here's what I'd offer instead: let the drive be part of it, not an obstacle before it. Notice the neighborhood changing around you as you get closer. Notice what the block feels like once you park, what the quiet does to your shoulders before you've even reached the door. Pay attention to your own breathing on the walk up. By the time I greet you, you're not stepping out of traffic into a stranger's house you've already begun the transition. The exhale starts before I ever say hello.

A good experience was never about convenience. It's about being willing to go somewhere on purpose, and trusting that the destination will meet the effort it took to get there.

Mine does.