City of Angels: The Moth Podcast

it seems like there's always been this unspoken difference or divide between New York and

LA. Some of you may know that the Moth started here in New York City, but what you may not know is that Los Angeles was actually the second city to host a Moth story slam. And when it comes down to it, maybe the two cities aren't actually as different as they seem. Both places are full of transplants trying to make it in the big city, and just like New York, LA is not always an easy place to live. Man, it sure seems like it is from 3,000 miles away.

I have lived in New York for the last 20 years. I was born and raised in California. I always think

“LA has got to be easier, but every time I get there, I realize we're all people and life is life”

and it's going to find us wherever we are, and it only takes one visit to be reminded of that. So this week, we're going to hear a couple of Los Angeles stories about moving in and fitting in.

First up is this one from Brian Cat. Brian told this story at our LA story slam, and the theme of

the night was culture shock. Here's Brian Cat. All right. All right. So when I feel lonely, I go for long walks, and my first year in Los Angeles, I walk so much that I had to resoul my shoes two different times. You know, it was just if LA felt so foreign to me. You know, it's a tough city, and back in Chicago, I knew tons of people, and out here, I knew a hardly anyone, and I missed humans. And what made my day-to-day even harder was that I worked

from home writing medical brochures about diabetes and catheters, and some days, my biggest human

“interaction would be when I would hear my very loud neighbors screaming through the walls,”

you know, I didn't know if they were fighting or celebrating. And so I was just in this island in my apartment, and when my landlord ducked off my lease to be renewed for the following year, I was hesitant. You know, I felt like I needed a sign, some sort of human connection to convince me to stay, to show me that LA wasn't so foreign, and so I set the lease aside, and I went to work from a coffee shop for the day. And at the coffee shop, I tried to engage with the

barista, and I said, "Hey, man, what kind of pastry is your favorite?" And he just stared at me. He gave me no response. And so I picked out a croissant that sucked, and I sat down next to this woman on her laptop. And when I asked if I could share her electric wallet with her, it was like I was asking her for a kidney or something. There was so much disdain, and it was then in there I decided

“that I was done. I was done with Los Angeles. And so for the rest of the day, I just sat in silence,”

and I wrote about how catheters can cause bacterial infections. Doing a few hours of that remind me that I was out of a shower soap at home. And so that evening I packed up and I walked over to Albertsons, and Albertsons was slammed. Everybody in Los Phelous was their shopping at the same time. And it was so crowded. It took me so long to even get back to where the soap was. That by the time I did, I was really fed up. And I decided that I had to deserve to treat

dammit. And so I picked up some chocolate milk, because I'm in a dull. And I went to the checkout line. I sit down the soap next to the chocolate milk, and this woman in front of me who had really big hair turned and looked back at me and she scoffed. She gave me a dirty look. And I knew why clearly it's because if you buy one item, that's an errand, right? But if you buy two items, everybody assumes you're somehow going to use just those two items can currently. She gave me

this real nasty look like she just knew I was going to go home and drink the milk when I was all lathered up in the shower, like a pervert. And so I just pushed her out of my mind. And I focused on how I was going to pack up my apartment. But that's when someone behind me tapped me on the shoulder. And I turned around. And it was the oldest woman in Los Angeles. She had this face like a dried apple. And she was wearing a plastic book Bushka, even though I hadn't rained in like months.

And she was saying something I really couldn't make out as she was unloading vegetables that I

never even seen before under the conveyor belt. I thought she was a crazy person. You know,

that's fine. And there's a business man in line behind her. And I tried to engage with him. And I gave him a look that said like, you know, this lady, am I right? And he gave me no response. He gave me the old barista treatment. And so before I turned away from her, I kind of realized, you know what? Here's a human who wants to interact with you. And you know, beggars can't be choosers. Maybe she's not crazy. So I said excuse me, ma'am. And she was saying,

cook it was cooked. So was, how do you cook the dinosaurs? And then she continued. And she said,

“if my grandchildren do not want, I do not want to waste. And from her car, she pulled out a small”

plush, dig a source. And a small plushed, ran a source, her ex that she got in the toilet. She set them next to her vegetables. And she said, so, so how do you cook? And she wasn't crazy. She was the most adorable woman in Los Angeles. And I said, you know what, ma'am, normally I broiled my brontosaurus. And she let off this great laugh that sounded like clocking. But that's when it happened. That the big-haired woman in front of me leaned in. And she said, last week,

Velociraptor was on special. It was delicious. So the three of us are enjoying this wonderful

moment of humanity out of nowhere. I've been the business man, it's then out in the businesses, you know, normally I do fry my dinosaurs, even though I know it isn't good for me. And the

“four of us are just in it. And it's amazing. And it's lovely. And then the cashier cleared his throat,”

because the big-haired woman had to pay. And we all snapped to attention. And our fun was over. But then the cashier leaned across the, the conveyor belt, and he said, "Albert sense has the tastiest brand of dinosaur." Because the Albert sense brand of dinosaur comes with its own stuffing. And everyone broke out in these smiles. And so the big-haired woman paid and she went on her way. And then I pay for my milk and my soap that I wasn't going to do anything

perverted with. And I turned to the old woman and I said, "I really hope you enjoy your dinosaur as if your grandchildren don't." And she beamed. And I left there feeling a part of something larger. Because it's human connection. It's all around us. It's even when we're not looking for it. And it's even in these seemingly insignificant moments. It's even in Albert sense. You know, it's even in Los Angeles, which didn't suddenly seem so foreign. And so when I got home,

I took a shower with soap. And then afterwards I poured myself a big glass of chocolate milk. And then I set down. And I resung my lease. Thanks. That was Brian Cat. Brian is an award-winning teacher, writer, and storyteller from Chicago, who now lives in Los Angeles. And every week, he tries to solve the Sunday puzzle on NPR. The end of this month will mark five years of living in Los Angeles for Brian. And when we

followed up with him, we had this to say, "I'm so happy to say that I've found my community here." Over the last five years, I've met so many kind, caring, and creative people. And all of that has come about from being open to whatever opportunities have presented themselves. The other evening, I was sitting on a rooftop with some friends, having a beer, and watching the sunset over the traffic, and the city really felt like home. Up next, we have a story from Hulietta Gilbert.

Hulietta told this story at an L.A. story slam where the theme of the night was bouncing back. Here's Hulietta, live at the mall. A few weeks ago, I really didn't know if I wanted to go to the women's march. But then I got all of these Facebook invites and texts saying things like, "Can I go with you? Or do I meet you? Should we take the subway?"

“But I wasn't so sure. I mean, even if I went, what was really the point of it?”

You see, I am no stranger to marches. I come from Mexico City, and there we march all the time. We march when we're happy, against oppression. I guess injustice for peace. We just do.

I have been in marches with six million people, and I'm not judging anyone, but I was in the

2006 LA immigration march, and I only saw Latinos there. And a handful of white people that were probably married to the Latinos. That march accomplished nothing. Nothing came out of it. So thinking about that march, maybe question even more, wanted to go to the women's march, because after all, what were all of these women with all kinds of different causes were going to accomplish when we couldn't even get together to fight for just one cause?

But then my friend, she told me that Shepard Ferry, you know the guy that made the Obama

that I really wanted. So with this motivation,

“I told my friends that I was going, my friend and I waited in that gallery for three hours like”

assholes. By the time I made it all the way to the front, there were no posters, free or for sale. As I was waiting for my friends in Union Station, I was just, I just had the worst attitude, because I really didn't want to be there. I mean, I didn't even get the posters that I wanted. But then I met this seven-year-old girl. She was in a wheelchair, and she was wearing her little nasty woman t-shirt. And her dad,

“I'm here because I support her rights, t-shirt. And they were still happy and so pumped.”

That it made me feel as a shame of myself, because I was just throwing so much negativity to the world. If she could do it, so could I. I found my friends and we entered like this seal of people. Let me tell you, Americans do not know how to organize a march. It was a hot mess. But also the most apologetic one. Every time anybody touch me, they were like, "I'm so sorry, are you okay? Can I help you?" As we walked down Broadway, I saw like 30

“middle eastern men. They had like this super long beard. And they were given away the most delicious”

vegan food for free. They were not asking for anything in return. Their act of kindness blew me away. We passed and I'm going to continue walking and at some point we were stuck like we could not move. And I could hear this little Mexican kids chanting. La raza univa jamasa raven sida. And barely anybody chanted along. But this white girl she was like, "Oh

nida, ven sida!" And then the kids started chanting that people united will never be defeated.

And like fire, it spread in all of this street. It was magical. As I was walking towards this subway, I bumped into this girl and she had the poster that I wanted. "Hey, where do you get it?" "Oh, they were just keeping them away!" But they ran out of it. And then she just went like this with her poster. And she had another one. "Do you want it?" And I couldn't believe that this girl just gave me the poster that I wanted so much. Just like that. As I rolled this subway back home,

I was trying to digest what I had just experienced. And I was intoxicated with this sense of love, unity, support, so much humanity. This is the smallest march of my life. Only 750,000 people. But by far, the most meaningful one. That was Juliette Gilbert. Juliette is a writer producer from Mexico who moved to LA in 2005. She's an Emmy and Pro Max award winner and also owns DFLA films, a production company that

creates content for the U.S. and Mexico. That's it for us this week on the Moth podcast. Until next time, from all of us here at the Moth, have a story worthy week.

Podcast production by Juliette Persell. Dan Kennedy is the author of Luzer Ghost first,

rock on an American spirit. He's also a regular host and storyteller with the Moth.