#11: You are not an island
A story about being stranded in West Hollywood, & why even introverts need community.
Here is a story about the night my car battery died.
It was a Saturday afternoon, though, with Daylight Savings, 4:30 pm in Los Angeles felt like a summer dusk, still warm, the sky pink and hazy. My car (a Prius) was parked in a tiny backlot behind a restaurant in West Hollywood, where I was celebrating a friend’s bridal shower at a local Italian restaurant. (A quick aside—if you’re ever in Los Angeles, please treat yourself to Amarone).
The afternoon was wonderful, filled with pasta and wine and pillowy bites of tiramisu. But then we all walked out to our cars, which we’d parked like Tetris pieces behind the restaurant to avoid the street meters on Sunset Blvd.
Imagine this: Teslas and Honda Civics mashed in with pickup trucks and my (now dead) Prius. It was nearly impossible for anyone to get around me without maneuvering a 5-point (10-point?) turn.
I waited for my husband and a tow truck to arrive. The sun dipped and painted the sky of Los Angeles with shades of sherbert before disap…
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