The hiking culture in LA is intense. People wake up at 5 AM to climb a mountain before work, take 47 photos at the top, post them with #blessed, then don’t exercise again for two weeks. But they wear athleisure every single day to maintain the illusion of being active.

I moved to LA and told people I was a writer. They asked what restaurant I work at. I said I actually make a living writing. They asked what my trust fund situation was. I said I don’t have one. They slowly backed away like I had a contagious disease.
Los Angeles is the only city where someone will honk at you, flip you off, and then ask you to follow their TikTok.

I tried to take public transit in L.A. once.
My friends acted like I said, “I’m sailing to work on the back of a dragon.”

I met a guy who said he was “in the industry.” Turns out he sells popcorn at the movies.

I went to a networking event in LA and everyone introduced themselves with their elevator pitch. “I’m a creative entrepreneur exploring the intersection of wellness and blockchain.” Nobody has a job. Everyone has a vision. I said I was a dentist and people literally walked away mid-conversation.

In Los Angeles, a “walkable neighborhood” just means “there’s at least one sidewalk that isn’t closed for filming.”

In Los Angeles, traffic reports aren’t news—they’re just weather forecasts for cars.

LA has two seasons: “sunny” and “slightly less sunny.”

I asked someone if it ever rains in LA. They said, “Only in movies.”

People in LA don’t ask “How are you?” They ask, “What’s your screenplay about?”

I ordered a burger in LA. They asked, “Do you want it vegan, gluten-free, or spiritually aligned?”

My friend asked if I’d go hiking in L.A. I said sure — then discovered hiking is just walking uphill while apologizing to joggers who pass you.

L.A. has seasons:
Fire, Mudslide, Awards, and Slightly Cooler.

In Los Angeles, even the pigeons have agents.
One tried to give me his headshot at a bus stop.

GPS in L.A. doesn’t give directions; it whispers supportive affirmations like, “You’re doing great, sweetie.”

I asked a barista in L.A. for a simple black coffee.
She said, “Emotionally, spiritually, or photographically?”

In Los Angeles, you’re never more than six feet from someone writing a screenplay — and four feet from someone pretending they’re not writing a screenplay.

In L.A., a “neighborhood watch” is just people recording everything on their phones.

Every time there’s a tiny earthquake in L.A., residents jump on Instagram like they survived a medieval siege.

Los Angeles is the only city where you can sit in a traffic jam for 40 minutes and still be considered “close by.”

When someone in L.A. says, “I’m five minutes away,” they mean it emotionally, not physically.

In Los Angeles, “cold weather” means someone had to wear sleeves.

I went to a party in the Hollywood Hills and the host gave everyone a tour of their home, including showing us which bathroom celebrities had used when they visited. “This is where a guy from a Geico commercial once washed his hands.”

I asked someone in L.A. where they were from and they said, “Oh, I’m an actor.”

Yoga classes in L.A. have levels: Beginner, Advanced, and “Influencer.”

I tried ordering a soda in Los Angeles, and the server said, “We only have kombucha, mushroom tonics, and positive energy drinks.”

The concept of being “on time” doesn’t exist in LA. If someone says they’ll be there at 7, they mean 7:45, but also they might not come at all. “I’m five minutes away” is a complete work of fiction. They haven’t left their house. They might not even be in the same city.

Every store in L.A. has valet parking — even the ones with two parking spots.

Every apartment building in LA has a rooftop pool that looks amazing in photos but is always closed for “maintenance” or filled with three inches of water and leaves.

Only in Los Angeles can you buy an $18 smoothie and still feel like you got a good deal.

Everyone in LA claims they “don’t really watch TV” but can quote every episode of every prestige drama from the past decade. “Oh, I don’t own a TV” they say, while simultaneously referencing obscure plot points from Succession.

LA people will tell you they’re “in the industry” and get offended if you ask which industry. There’s only one industry. If you work in literally anything else, you’re a civilian. I’m a software engineer and someone asked me when I was going to “get a real career.”

Hollywood is the place where dreams come true — and also where dreams hold auditions and get rejected.

In most cities, the weather forecast changes.
In Los Angeles, the forecast just says, “Still sunny.”

I asked a local about earthquakes and he said, “They’re not scary unless they spill your latte.”

In L.A., even the palm trees look like they’re posing for an influencer collab.

The ocean in L.A. is beautiful — you just have to get past the tourists, the fog, the traffic, and the existential dread.

Los Angeles is the only place where your neighbor’s dog has more Instagram followers than you.

LA has a store that only sells crystals and the sales person told me which crystal would align my chakras and improve my career prospects. I asked if they had one that would help me pay rent. She didn’t laugh. She showed me citrine. It was $140. I bought it. I’m part of the problem.

I’ve been in LA for five years and I still can’t figure out what anyone actually does for work. People have job titles like “Creative Strategist” or “Brand Alchemist” or “Wellness Consultant.” I asked someone to explain what they do and they talked for 10 minutes and I still have no idea. They might be unemployed. They might be a millionaire. In LA, it’s impossible to tell the difference.