When my oral surgeon asked how long I’d been in California I told him 10 years.
I have no idea if that’s true because living in paradise, we have no clocks, calendars or passage of time at all.
It’s almost always summer, 70 degrees and sunny.
Everyone stays young forever. Even if you are 117.
All women have perfect large breasts, flawless hair, clothing and cars most people in fly-over country can only dream about.
My surgeon told me, “Oh, I would have thought you were a native by the looks of you.”
And that’s when I knew he was lying.
But I do feel like a native — at least I’ve got the dream car even if I lack the saline filled hacky-sacks and swanky wardrobe.
Back when I first moved to California about ten years ago…I asked someone how to get to the highway. Their eyes crossed and they had a seizure.
Correcting myself quickly I said, “I need to find THE 101, where is the on-ramp to the freeway?” But it was too late. The EMT guys were very handsome, if anyone wonders.
These things quickly became rote to me.
Well at least two things that I can remember and only because my out of town guests always mention these particular Los Angeles speech oddities.
Namely, the “highway vs the freeway” and even more obvious that it’s not “I went to Ralph’s,” it’s I went to “THE Ralph’s.”
Being a virtual California native at this point, I’m sure I’ve forgotten the rest — or are we just immune to awareness of our own California speak?