Every day, we pass by hundreds of people while we go about our
daily routine, but we rarely get the chance to really connect with
these people. It would be crazy to try to connect with everyone we
meet, so instead we sometimes block everyone out and crawl deeper
inside of ourselves, turning up our iPods or hiding in the pages of
a newspaper. In the rushed and hectic Los Angeles lifestyle, people
often miss the chance to make real connections with others. This
can make a city like Los Angeles seem rather daunting and
unfriendly.
In the opening scene of the movie “Crash,” Don
Cheadle’s character, Detective Graham Waters says, “In
any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, people
bump into you. In L.A., nobody touches you. We’re always
behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much,
that we crash into each other, just so we can feel
something.”
Maybe we should metaphorically crash into one another more often
and make a conscious effort to break out of these cells of metal
and glass. It’s easy to feel lost in a city as big and as
busy as Los Angeles. People tend to be incredibly guarded, causing
a social disconnect among them.
Last Friday afternoon, just like any other afternoon, I stumbled
into my local 7-Eleven to buy a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of
Power-C Vitamin Water, my standard hangover cure. I kept my head
down, grabbed the bottle out of the fridge and headed to the
counter to get my smokes and be on my way. For some reason, this
time I took notice of all the people going about their business and
avoiding contact at all costs.
A businessman and a homeless man poured themselves cups of
coffee with the unfeeling indifference of robots. A woman pulled a
gallon of milk out of the fridge and stood in line a few feet
behind a young man in bicycling gear. He impatiently sipped a
bottle of fruit juice waiting for the elderly gentleman in front of
him to finish purchasing his lottery tickets, and shot a suspicious
glance at the young Latino boy scouring the magazine rack.
Essentially, they were all on the same level at that 7-Eleven, but
they seemed to be completely avoiding one another. It was as if
they were afraid of any contact, afraid of what would happen if
they let themselves crash into another human being.
A while later, outside of that same 7-Eleven, I spoke to a woman
originally from the Midwest who told me her name was Cage. She was
sporting a bright orange T-shirt and balancing on her bicycle while
lighting a cigarette with a match she just got from inside the
store. She told me that here in Los Angeles, she doesn’t see
the same hospitality she saw back home. “Most of the time, I
have to make the initial contact with people, but they generally
open up to me.”
Still, it can be hard to get people to open up when everyone is
always in such a frenzy. “L.A. is rushed 24-7,” she
told me, “and with the holidays coming, it’s just
getting worse.”
Cage told me that her bicycle is her primary means of
transportation. We talked for a while about how riding a bike not
only saves her money on gas and registration but also puts her
closer to the street, allowing her to meet more people. We agreed
that while ditching your car can help, the real problem lies in the
fact that Los Angeles is a city of bustling businessmen and
high-speed housewives, too rushed to allow any time for real
connections.
Back inside that 7-Eleven, during a lull in business, I asked
employee Tajul Islam if he could talk to me about how rushed people
are and how no one seems to want to make time to make connections
with people in Los Angeles. He looked straight at me and said,
“I have no time to talk about that.” I couldn’t
help but smile and think that was exactly the problem.
Somewhere along the road, being completely self-centered became
the norm. This is most strikingly visible in big cities like Los
Angeles, where capitalism dictates that you have to work hard and
always look out for yourself in order to get ahead in this
increasingly competitive society. You can’t let anyone get in
your way, and you can’t waste any time. This mode of thinking
breeds generations of socially disconnected automatons, just going
through the motions, and hardly even living.
We exist in a world of strategically defined bubbles of personal
space. We lock ourselves in our apartments, our cars, our cubicles,
our classroom desks and our coffee shop alcoves. We tune out the
world and separate ourselves from society, convincing ourselves
that we are too busy to deal with others. It’s really no
wonder people can feel lonely in a city that almost 4 million
people call home.
Perhaps the trick is to just slow down and take a look around.
No matter who you are ““ businessman or bum ““ when you
are getting that morning cup of coffee, everyone is on the same
level. In that moment, you have the chance to connect with the
people of your community and you shouldn’t just let that
opportunity walk out the door. Sometimes, we all have to crash.
Crash into Deitchman at jdeitchman@media.ucla.edu. Send
general comments to viewpoint@media.ucla.edu.