Chris picked me up at LAX and took me to experience quintessential LA: traffic. We didn’t have plans to spend much time there; nothing about LA really appeals to me. Sure enough, it seemed like one dumpy area after another with some super-swank ritzy areas wedged in between.
Hollywood’s Walk of Fame mystified us. What are we supposed to be doing here? Why is this ratty theater famous? What’s so cool about taking a picture with a piece of sidewalk bearing your favorite star’s name? Are we missing something? Why are all the other tourists so devoid of good fashion sense? 
Well, we didn’t miss lunch. Mirabelle Restaurant on Sunset Boulevard served up a delicious Chopped Mirabelle Salad (for me) and a tasty wrap of some sort for Chris. “Did you save me any fries?” I asked. “…Did you want some?” asked Chris two hours after our reunion, unfamiliar with the eating preferences of Pregnant Mari. 
Everything seemed brighter as we approached San Diego despite the fact that the sun had long since set. “I’ve never actually been to LA,” my mom, a San Diego native, later confessed. “You can see why we had kind of an attitude toward it.” Yes, yes we can.
If you love LA will you please tell me why? I won’t judge; I love Houston, after all.
