Bob Hope Airport, Burbank

Flying the Old School Way

For most of my life, I’ve lived within driving distance of everyone I loved, and worked in jobs that didn’t require much travel. Plane trips were for vacations, and happened only once or twice a year. But when my boyfriend, Dan, moved to Los Angeles, and I stayed behind in New York, cross-country flights became a monthly ritual–and airports suddenly became important. I was amazed by the convenience of my first wheeled carry-on bag and marveled at the way the redeye maximized my visits. But the most enduring affair of …

More In: Where I Go

Supporting the Kings, Despite the Staples Center

Yes, Crappy Team Plus Even Crappier Venue Can Still Equal Love

Two weeks ago, after a second straight third-period collapse, I muttered to Steve, a fellow long-suffering Los Angeles Kings fan, “Rooting for the Kings is like rooting for the Cubs–only …

The Fountain That Shuts Us Up

Finding Familial Joy in Trips to Calder’s "Hello Girls" at LACMA

I love being a father, I love being a journalist, and I love being an Angeleno. But being all those things doesn’t offer me many chances to be still. There’s …

Baked & Wired (D.C.)

Because They Hold the Nuts

The sweet smell of a bakery accelerates my pulse and propels panic signals to my brain. I’m allergic to nuts. I dream of warm apple pie slices and soft, sprinkled …

L.A.’s Ghost Zoo

My Escape To the Cages at Griffith Park

On muggy summer days in Missouri, a gang of pre-adolescent hellions who’d dubbed themselves the Marion Street Kids would take to the woods for shady relief and adventure. Every creek …

Burying the Hatchet With Day Laborers

How I Learned to Love the Men Outside My Starbucks

A couple times a week, I, like 5 million people worldwide, head to my local corporate coffee joint. I love the Starbucks on the corner of Wilshire and Union near …