About two months ago Doug, Lois and I moved from the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles to the slow-moving environs of Orlando.
What now seems weird to me is that before the move we were actually excited about the adventure. A new place, a new life, a new beginning. The excitement wore off as soon as the air-conditioning died and we felt what the early settlers to this place probably called suicidal heat. As you know, we have heat in California, it's just not as wet. Something else unexpected? Like clockwork, everyday between 3:00pm and 5:00pm we get rain. Not just a sprinkle or two, but full-fledged thunder and lightning bearing rain. During this rainstorm it continues to be the 91 degree (111 degree heat index) heat. No cool off. No fun summer shower to go get wet in. No nothin'. In addition, thunder would be for Lois, a new and unexpected source of complete terror. I can't say that I blame her. If I came from a place where my world was only interrupted by the occasional back-fire of a car, I'd run and hide behind the bookcase too.
But there is no bookcase big enough to hide myself from the southern jewless hickville I now find myself trapped in. When in LA we pined for a simpler life that didn't include exhaust blocked window screens and a "storm watch" on the local news everytime it rained no matter how slight. Yes, we pined for a place to live devoid of 12 year-old Jessica Simpson wannabees and plastic surgery junkies. Entertainment news shows and weathermen who moonlight as stand-up comedians. Someplace where we could enter a coffee-shop (maybe not even a Starbucks!) and not see half a dozen people on their computers writing screenplays.
We got our wish.
This is what we got instead... Diners that serve grits alongside hash browns for breakfast. Fast food restaurants on every block. So many bugs that Florida should be renamed "America's Amazon" and absolutely no (and I mean it) NO GOOD RESTAURANTS. Not even our fave Houston's would relieve our woes. The only thing, I guess, that doesn't change from state to state is the pre-pubescent Jessica Simpsons and the plastic surgery addicts, cause right door to every Burger King is a doctor waiting suck the fat out of your thighs. We left the smog capitol and moved to the grease belt.
Orlando is flat and surprisingly rural. Our vet stands on a busy corner, but if you go back one block you have fields, ponds and ramshackle "Deliverance" shacks. Get off the wrong exit on the way to the SuperTarget and you may find yourself in line to the drive-thru church service (no lie ... off the I-4 at Ivanhoe). Go the wrong way on the freeway ... sorry ... the INTERSTATE ... and instead of going to a movie you're at Dolly Parton's Dixie Stamped and Dinner Theatre
.
All the major streets are numbered AND named but no one uses the names. So, when asking directions, you get something like... "take the 1792 to the 436 and make a left. Go straight until you hit the 528 which is also the 327 if you go north...." blah, blah, blah ...
"So, fine" I think "I'll stay in my little area of Winter Park". Winter Park is a suprisingly adorable and charming part of Orlando. Not the Disney-sponsored suburb that most Yanks think it is (that's Celebration, Florida ... jeez!). Made to look like an east coast resort town, the city center is it's open public golf course surrounded by a sweet "Cleaver-like" main street and gorgeous, palatial estates of differing architectural styles. As I said, this occupies the center of Winter Park, serving as a facade for the illusion of cosmopolitan wealth and style of it's half-sister (twice removed) city Miami. Along the outskirts of this epicenter are the common strip malls and small water-craft dealerships the locals call home. Winn-Dixie supermarkets, Pest Control companies and Dunkin' Donuts all with piped in Radio Disney crop up in about every second mini mall. But Winter Park is the best of the worst so I shouldn't complain. It can actually be quite beautiful in the winter I hear, when it's a cool, 80 degrees (91 degree heat index, 78 percent humidity).
I think it really hit home when I was in the Bay Area this week. I got off the plane, inhaled deeply as I stepped outside and thought "ahhh normal air". Driving through San Francisco and into Marin County I got to see the best of both worlds. The excitement and sophistication of the city, with it's Opera and it's theatre, diverse culture and breathtaking views and the sweet smell of the country in Mill Valley with it's home-spun charm, hordes of bookstores and interesting artistic community.
Deplaning back in Orlando felt as comfortable as walking into a sauna naked when everybody is wearing fur coats ... you know you're doing it the way you should, but all the signs around you are telling you you're wrong. THAT is what living in Orlando is like.
Now, instead of remembering how frustrated we would get when we couldn't hear ourselves think over the traffic, I find myself waxing philosophic about the sweet iambic pentameter of the cars going by our apartment window. I find myself not espousing the benefits of hearing the sweet castanets of the summer insects, but crying like a baby that a fucking giant, 12 inch stick-bug is on my car window and I can't get out of my car.
Instead of complaining about how superficial the entertainment industry is and people are in general in LA, I find myself longing for an entertainment industry where imaginary creatures with big ears and funny voices don't dominate and narcissistic people I can actually make fun of.
I guess at the end of the day I will have to find a way to accept my new home and make the best of it. After all, people are nicer here and they all seem to relate to you like you already know them. When Doug was in a UPS Store recently, preparing a fax to be sent he realized that he had taken over the counter with all of his papers. He apologized to the gentleman working there who was engaged in conversation with another patron behind Doug. When Doug apologized for taking up so much space and time preparing his fax, the employee just waved him off and said casually "Just talking to Tammy".
You would have been shot for the same offense in LA.
That has been the quintessential encapsulating Orlando moment ... and if I don't stick to it I will never survive.
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