The Red Carpet

Today was a rough day.

First of all, it’s HOT in LA. That always makes things worse for me. I am not a fan of being warm. Growing up in the Midwest, my idea of warm was a nice 70-75 degree day with a light breeze. Not like a summer in LA where it’s 93 in the shade with no breeze unless you count the BMWs speeding past you.

Second, an audition I was really looking forward to was canceled. It felt like the one life-giving river of hope I was counting on to get me through the summer had dried up – okay, that was a little dramatic. But anyway, it was a big bummer.

Thirdly, I was hangry (for those of you unfamiliar with this term it is a dangerous combo of hungry and angry.) So I decided to check out the newly reopened Pavilion’s Grocery Store down the street. I got in my Yaris (which was like getting in a little red hand basket to hell) and drove to the store, positive that this trip would improve my day.

After circling the store a couple of times I finally find the entrance. As I’m pulling into the parking lot, I see a group of people in black shirts standing there, waiting to greet me. There are “Grand Opening” signs posted everywhere and my heart quickens and the thought of samples and Frisbees with the store logo printed on the front. A black–shirted man stops me as I pull in.

“How are you doing today, m’am”

(I'm hot and tired and hangry…how do you think I’m doing?)

“Fine, thanks. How are you.”

“Good. Are you here to shop today?”

I stare at him blankly. Why else would I be here?

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry m’am. Today we are having a red carpet event for the Grand Opening and the store will be open tomorrow.”

I look around. Sure enough there is a red carpet leading into the grocery store with the whole kitten-caboodle of ropes, cameras, and what appears to be press. That’s right, a RED CARPET AT A GROCERY STORE. As I drive away I remember the good ol’ days of my hometown where a grocery store grand opening meant a free scoop of vanilla ice cream and a red balloon. I guess in Los Angeles the ice cream would have too many calories…but at least there could have been a free balloon.

I swing around to Trader Joe’s – take that Pavilions – inside which a man who really should have thought about showering prior to picking out his produce follows me around the store. When I finally reach the check out I say sheepishly to the cashier, “I forgot my cloth grocery bag…sorry!”

To which she replies, “We’ll forgive you.” But judging by her tone wanted to add, “But the planet won’t.”

After getting sucked in by a woman selling make-up endorsed by some celebrity make-up artist I had never heard of (But she will donate 5% of the $35 to Operation Smile….5%?!?!!? – that’s $1.75…how generous of her….) I raced back to my air conditioned apartment and collapsed on my couch.

Sometimes this city can take all of its ridiculousness and dump it on you in one fell swoop. At moments like this, I feel like I can no longer live in a city that gives grocery stores red carpets and no ice cream – life is just too short for no ice cream.

But as I sit in my air-conditioned, quiet, cute little apartment I try and force some perspective. I remember that tonight I’m going to a play with one of my best friends in Los Angeles, that tomorrow I am dressing up and attending a pirate party on a ship, that I have air conditioning, that I have friends, and that there will be other auditions. And I realize, life is actually too short for me not to live in Los Angeles.

But it is damn hot....