A layover affords 72 hours to catch up over pizza, renew the license set to expire on her 27th, launder, fold and pack or simply enjoy consistent wifi at the lonely apartment Southwest pays for her to leave behind all month. Attending one of nearly 700 daily flights out of LAX hardly leaves a moment to maintain friendships much less date. Though hers is an extreme case it's a city of inconsistent attendance and whether you're duping call sheets or tending bar, availability may be more elusive than the unicorn everyone won't shut up about.
Last minute cancellations run rampant here with blame laid on sudden bookings, surprise 5 am call times or car trouble in a highway dependent city. Waiting alone in the uncomfortably vacant booth my waitress returned to ask again if I'd like to order. Moments later arrived an IPA destined to be shared only with Scott Van Pelt when after forty minutes I decided my first Tinder date resulted in me being stood up. After driving another forty back to the valley from Santa Clarita she attributed the mishap to a scheduling error not mine but I prefer to believe a 50 year old male catfisherman thought it better to remain anonymous.
Real-time traffic updates, email to calendar syncing and tools for extra-terrestrial communication line our pockets but LA can't keep appointments. Population breeds anonymity and protects it. Within the dense crowd of options many lose sight of the person in front of them just as soon as their arrival and instead continue to focus on that ideal nobody in their mind's eye. Unfortunately this quality will force us to repel people as they become real to us and justify the prevalent flakiness in an already time-strapped town.
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