Things That Bedevil Our City of Angels

I’m starting to entertain thoughts about moving away from Los Angeles. I love my city. I grew up here. I went to school here. My entire family lives here. But I’m frustrated by Los Angeles and losing my patience.

It might have been the traffic, which wasn’t moving, or the tiny, half-mil fixer-upper I’d met my real estate agent at, or the 50 bucks I’d plopped down for a fill-up, or maybe it was the effects of talk-radio outrage seeping into my brain. Any one of these would not normally matter a hill of beans, but suddenly, taken together, living in Los Angeles seemed like more trouble than it was worth.

I love my city ... but I can’t afford to live here anymore. According to the latest statistics, sales of million-dollar homes soared 56%. Try to find something affordable in a decent area and you’re faced with multiple offers and a bidding war that obliterates the asking price.

I love my city ... but traffic is so bad that it’s a rare day when you can actually go the speed limit. Surface streets and freeways are clogged to the point of gridlock. And it’s becoming more cutthroat out there. The only acknowledging wave my fellow motorists ever give me is an angry middle finger. To compound the problem, Angelenos are not very adept at multi-tasking. Talking on a cell phone while driving is too much for most of us to master.

I love my city ... but crime is out of control. Los Angeles has become the new murder capital. How did this happen? Gangs were always bad, but now it seems no place is safe.

I love my city ... but the fast lane of the freeway is no longer the fastest lane. The fast lane has been usurped by uninsured vans and pickups going 10 miles under the speed limit, paying no attention to anything behind them.

I love my city ... but its once strong economy has been ruined by mismanagement. California is in the hole for $36 billion. There are nations where gross national product isn’t $36 billion.

I love my city ... but there’s no decent Chinese food on the Westside.

I love my city ... but it’s not very integrated. It’s diverse, yes, but not very integrated. Unlike New York City, where there’s an organic melding from all different walks of life, races and religions (possibly because people actually have to walk), Los Angeles seems to be segregated by race and economic status, and never the two shall meet. The only black kids you’re likely to see in Brentwood are a movie star’s. People here insulate themselves with wealth and celebrity, and the only time they have to mix it up with the common folks is when they’re walking a red carpet.

I love my city ... but how can the second-largest city in the U.S. not have a professional football team?

I love my city ... but the radio stations are lousy, especially when it comes to music. Classic rock? Two. Ranchero and Tejano? Lots. Talk? Plenty. Progressive? One. Album-oriented? None.

I love my city ... but storm watch or car chases should never be the lead story, should never be followed throughout the telecast to the exclusion of all other news and should never earn the moniker “Breaking News.”

I love my city ... but misinformed, empty-headed actors who graduated from college with liberal arts degrees (at best) should not speak for the nation on geopolitical and world events. I’m interested only in what they have to say when they’re in character.

I love my city and I don’t want to leave. We have great weather, pristine beaches, snowcapped mountains, an affordable college system and the best Mexican food in the world. Maybe if nothing else, somebody will open a decent Chinese restaurant on the Westside.

Jon Gerloff is in the corporate security business.