matthew’s alibi

It’s pouring today in LA. It has been so long since it rained in LA that it was sort of shocking last night to hear the pitter patter of raindrops outside the window. It was such an unexpected and pleasant surprise that I turned off the TV and snuggled under the covers to savor it.

It’s easy to forget that LA is a desert. Whenever I fly into the city, I’m always amazed at the contrast between the surrounding sandy emptiness and the lush green of the city, dotted with tiny little swimming pools. Our tribute to Mr. Mullholland, I guess.

One of my favorite things about the city is what happens to it in the rain (no, not the mudslides). The city is a little bit like a gremlin that way; it should come with an admonition not to get it wet.

In particular, there’s a peculiar thing that happens to drivers in the City of Angels when it rains. Half of them - I assume this is the half who are native angelenos and thus unaccustomed to anything besides sunshine - begin driving like grandmas zonked out on valium attempting to drive in cars flooded with molasses.

The other half - these being the east coast transplants, who have seen rain before - begin driving like psycopaths on angeldust trapped in cars full of angry hornets. Presumably, this behavior is largely in reaction to the grannies, but many of the east coasters maintain much of the same edge even when the sun is shining - they’re just like that.

Well, it’s a city of contrasts. But I still wish they could fix the traffic lights.