Adventures of a Wandering Thirtysomething

Disneyland is every bit as amazing as people say it is. It truly is one of the happiest places on earth. Having never been, I was my typical skeptical self – anticipating it to be good, but not too good. Well, thank you Disneyland for proving me wrong! My day spent there was definitely in the top 5 best days ever, maybe even inching into the top 3. I was near tears many times, overwhelmed by the excitement of seeing my childhood fantasies come to life. From hugging Mickey, to flying through the Peter Pan ride (a favorite), to laughing hysterically on Splash Mountain, to touring Sleeping Beauty’s castle, the 6-year-old within me was transfixed with the magic and joy that is Disneyland. As soon as we left, I was already asking Matt when we could go back. Forget the kids. I want to go play at Disneyland!

That said, if Disneyland is the happiest place on earth, then the greater L.A. area is definitely the saddest. In the past few years of traveling around the country and the world, I have never been so happy to leave my destination as I was to leave Los Angeles. Words cannot begin to describe how utterly gross this place is. The sun may shine on L.A., but it largely shines on a blanket of litter, a cloud of smog, psychotic drivers, horrendous traffic, monstrous billboards, and angry people, people, people everywhere! The beaches and shopping are a small consolation, though good luck getting to a mall in under an hour. Curled up in the fetal position at home is likely where you’d find me if I had to live there, which brings me to my conclusion.

For the past 4 years I have complained about living in Seattle, wanting desperately to get the heck out of here. But even on Seattle’s lowest, bleakest day of the year, it could not rival the horribleness that is L.A. So the next time my life is in the pooper or I’m bitching about the great injustices of my day, hey, it could be worse; I could live in L.A.