A year and a half ago, I went through an actor’s rite of passage that is terrifying, cruel and compulsory. My first trip to Los Angeles.

Growing up in America in the 1980s, I grew up thinking that Russians were little red people who ate their children. Living and working as an actor in New York for 8 and half years, I’ve since acquired a similar prejudice; that Los Angeles is a vile pit of filth, where all the women are lobotomized, talent is never appreciated, bullets fly past if you make eye contact, and the casting directors are ACTUAL WOLVES who tell you your fat then try to bite off your cellulite after forcing you to get breast implants.

Needless to say, I was a bit scared.

But, I went on my trip with a great attitude. I had decided that since I’ve yet to meet a Russian who was cannibalistic and the color red, that my preconceptions of LA were probably false as well. I ran out of Burbank airport at 10am PST, smiling ear to ear and excitedly taking in all that was around me. Sunshine! Mountains! A blond with fake tits in a velour tracksuit! I’VE ARRIVED!!

Then came my first encounter with one of the myriad inferiorities of LA to NYC.

TRANSPORTATION
I stepped into a cab. I should remind you, that I do not know how to drive. Sounds like the premise to a horror film, I know. So I get into the cab and tell the driver the address and cross street of the friend I’m staying with. Guess what? He doesn’t know where it is! As a New Yorker I huff and think “Oh I should call the cab company, that’s illegal!” But before I can grasp what to do, an LA street map is thrown into my lap. He tells me to look up the street and give him directions. As I perused the dictionary-sized document, I realized why the cab driver doesn’t know where the street is. It would be impossible to know every street in this city. Holy shit, LA is freaking huge! I mean, I’m not retarded, I knew that, but never fully understood. Ok, so I find the street and we head on our way. This driver was terrible! We passed the turn off of Glendale Blvd 4 times because he kept missing it. Then we pass the house 3 times, after which I say, “We’re a block and half away, just let me walk from here!” “*GASP*” He goes. “You cannot walk that much!!” Right, no one walks here. EVER.

Move forward about 5 days. After my manger requested I stay a bit longer, I moved to a hotel on Sunset Blvd. I’m thinking this will work out well, as it’s in West Hollywood, and surely I can just walk to Beverly Hills, Hollywood, or wherever my meetings will be. And if it’s too far, well I’ll just take the bus! Dear god, if reading an LA street map took a lot of skill, then for figuring out the LA Bus System I think I should be awarded an honorary masters degree. It’s truly that bad. It works, but it hardly ever comes and it’s never clear where the bus is actually going. A bus map doesn’t even exist. The other problem is that very few people take the bus, so it’s not exactly safe. One night I had a party in the heart of Beverly Hills, and I had to sit on an LA bus for an hour and a half, dressed to the nines. Everyone riding surely thought I was a prostitute.

So during most of my stay on Sunset Blvd, I simply walked. Another issue is that LA maps never seem to be to scale, and the little streets in between aren’t shown. It would say “La Cienega” then “La Brea.” Uh, turns out those two are about a mile apart. This is why no one walks here, because your feet won’t take you anywhere! But I did it anyway. One day I walked from San Vincente all the way to Vine, and the last day I conquered the town wearing high heels. Covered about 3 miles that afternoon. I’ve still got blisters.

And when I say NO ONE walks, I’m not exaggerating. One day while heading down the street, I see another human on foot in the distance. As we get closer, it turns out to be someone I went to NYU with! No shit, the only two pedestrians were visiting New Yorkers.

FOOD
What they say is true. LA food is bad. Well, only at nice restaurants. I’m all about health food, so I thought it would be so great! Nope. I had two business lunches in Beverly Hills, and both times the food was incredibly bland. I had a tofu that was dry and flavorless. A restaurant in Cali that can’t properly prepare tofu! I also went to an upscale Asian fusion restaurant on Sunset, I ordered fish, and it was squalid.

But there are exceptions. I believe the rule in LA is, the less money you spend, the more flavor you’ll get. Case in point: MEXICAN. Mexican food in LA is splendid, but listen carefully. You must only go to a venue no larger than a hut, with bad English on a handwritten sign, where the chairs, preferably plastic, are nailed to the ground. One of these is in my friend’s neighborhood on Glendale Blvd. It’s called “Taco Villa Corona.” Tacos are $1. I got the $4 burrito that was enormous and packed with so many items I swear Mexican children were falling out of this burrito. Lots of fresh cilantro, knockout salsa. It was a burrito sent from heaven. I found another such location on Santa Monica. Holy crap, “Fish Taco” has replaced “Open Bar” as my favorite two-word phrase. Like I said, just stick to the illegal immigrant run, low cost formula, and you can’t go wrong.

PEOPLE
I’m sitting in the lounge of the Beverly Regent Wilshire waiting for a producer I have a meeting with. This guy comes up to hit on me, and let me tell you, the only thing holding in the bile was the fact that it was so goddamned funny. I’ve never met a guy so stereotypically gross. He WAS Owen Wilson from Zoolander. The Night at the Roxbury dudes. I always thought those guys were just caricatures, but hells bells, appears they really exist!

There are many attractive men in LA. But all of them, every last single one… GAY.

As for the ladies, I did meet some very nice people. At a party one night I met a bunch of transplanted New Yorkers who were great. (Perhaps that doesn’t count??) But as for the rest, well, as nice as they are, there is this undercurrent Southern Californian bubbliness that I may get used to, but Ill NEVER fit in with.

THE “ENERGY”
You hear the same thing over and over “New York just has that energy that LA is missing.” It’s not just missing the New York excitement, which doesnt exist anywhere, but its missing any energy whatsoever! And boy does that laid back, lazy attitude really suck you in. I’m a high-strung, fast paced person. I like working 10 to 6, rehearsing 7 to 10, auditioning on my lunch hour and going out all the time. But once in Los Angeles, all I wanted to do was SLEEP. I haven’t taken a nap in probably 10 years. During this 10-day trip, I took about 7. Went to bed early almost every night. Didn’t even bother checking out the Viper Room, which was just down the street. Who wants to watch people die when you can sit on your ass and look at the Hills? I couldn’t believe what was happening to me.

SHOPPING
All right, all right. So Ill throw LA a bone. I hate shopping, HATE IT. Racks, hangers, dressing rooms, cashiers, other customers, I really can’t deal. But in LA shopping is kinda fun. There are incredible vintage stores everywhere, very well priced and not crowded. And then there are the high-end shops on Robertson Blvd and Rodeo Dr. I of course cant afford anything in these locations, so I did the tackiest thing ever. I tried on expensive clothes, danced around in the dressing rooms and took pictures of myself. Yes, I’m one classy broad.

Black Capri pants: $495. Bolero jacket made of Kimono silk: $595. Yellow embroidered shirt: $600.

WEIRDNESS and COMEDY
There’s a lot of weird shit in California, so I made the best of that. Here’s something fun you cant do elsewhere: tour the L Ron Hubbard Memorial Museum. Now THAT is a barrel of laughs. It’s free of course, but you have to endure the hard sell. Which is worth it for comedic benefit. The Hispanic tour guide told me she learned to speak English in 4 months only reading L Ron Hubbards books. You learned English through Battlefield Earth?!? Thats kinda awesome. The tour basically shows you his life through a series of really bad paintings, then you watch the Dianetics videotape, where really stressed out people learn how to smile. And for the grand finale you take the stress test. Its VERY scientific, oh yes! You hold on to two tin cans and if they shake you are stressed, and you need Dianetics. I escaped the museum without a book or a membership; happily unscathed and hoping Katie Holmes suffers post-partum depression.

Another fun time in the City of Angels was at the UCB Theatre. They have stand-up comics on Tuesday nights, and the comedians were phenomenal. Some of them have HBO specials, and the entire event was only 5 bucks. I couldnt believe it. UCB started out here in NYC, and it’s very good, but I have to say the laid back, anything goes attitude of the LA chapter is really awesome. Next time I’m going to check out the Wed night MySpace show, where they create skits based on audience members profiles.

THE BUSINESS
The first week there I booked a small part in a film. The second week I met more film and tv casting directors than I’ve been able to get in with my entire time in NYC. I also met with a producer who does some amazing movies. And commercial agents are practically given out at the airport. Everyone I met has one! To get a commercial agent here I feel like I have to bomb an Embassy! But here, let me perfectly illustrate the difference between NY and LA:

During this time of this trip last year, in NY I was cast in Marat/Sade, a famous play about the French Revolution as told by the Marquis De Sade. I played a singing prostitute kept in an insane asylum.

The part I got in LA? A court reporter in a silly romantic comedy starring Corbin Bernstein and one of the kids from The Sandlot. A project that ultimately lost it’s budget.

The second was a bigger project. Its had a star attached, it paid and offered a SAG waiver. But I think its fairly clear which role was more exciting.

In summary, LA is the world’s leading necessary evil.

Did I return? Oh yes, I did. But I took drivers education first. You can hear about all of the fiascos involved in trip 2 in a future installment. Trust me, it gets…

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