Public transport

In my first few months in LA, I got around by bus - and didn't think much of it. For sure I became aware of the sorry state of the US pedestrian, as I struggled to reach my bus stop across six lanes of impatient traffic. But the act of taking a bus was surely nothing out of the ordinary?

In fact, it seems that it is. I have casually mentioned it a few times in polite society here, and have been met each time with a sort of sympathetic wince, as if my life must have known some truly dark days. A note of caution enters the conversation, like I might go on to reveal that I had just got out of prison, and the subject is quickly changed.

In London, the tube and bus system is a standard way of getting around the city, for just about every layer of society. Amongst the hordes of people cramming themselves onto a rush hour tube, you are  just as likely to trip over the umbrella of an investment banker earning millions, or be wedged into the armpit of a member of parliament, as you are to jostle with the city's lowlier workers.

Looking back, I realize that an LA bus is quite different to a London tube. The passengers tend to be Hispanic and, if truth be told, look more like they are going to office buildings to clean them rather than sit in them. There are school kids, and pensioners, and the occasional oddball like me who doesn't know any better. But in the end, the message could not be any clearer - in LA, you drive a car. Plain and simple.

This contrast between London and LA is to a certain extent a result of area and population. London is trying to move many more people across a much smaller space, so there is some logic to packing everyone into larger units. But I think there is more to it than that. To an LA resident, a car means freedom and self-respect, and with that much of what it means to be an American. However bad the traffic gets here, it is not likely that public transport will ever be able to compete with that.

American anger - Part 2

A few days after this episode with Paul and the angry man, I was watching Piers Morgan debating the gun control issue with one Alex Jones, a passionate defender of Americans' right to own guns, and also the instigator of a petition to deport Piers Morgan for his very public anti-gun stance.

Now Piers Morgan does have an annoying face and this, combined with hearing an opposing view on an emotive issue like guns, could lead even the most saintly to raise their voice. But this does not do justice to the reaction from Alex Jones. In fact, to say he went berserk, ballistic or stark raving mad, would not even cover it. 

He raged that it would be 1776 all over again and that the republic would rise up in protest if their guns were to be taken from them. He ranted, screamed, on and on. And I started to feel as I did when the man in the coffee shop was berating Paul the poodle - sheer embarrassment that somebody could display such emotion in public.

Irrespective of what either of them was actually saying, I marvel at a society that can accept their displays of emotion and anger, and move on. Alex Jones has attracted some ridicule for what he said, but people don't seem to mind him totally losing it one day, and then expecting still to be listened to the next.

The English tendency to suppress anger has led to a more cordial society, but one where grievances tend to be nursed in private, where they can grow out of proportion and feed all sorts of passive aggressive acts in public. Ugly as it is to watch, maybe we can learn something from this American willingness to scream and shout, to let all the emotions go, and not to mind who is watching.

American anger - Part 1

Recently I was sitting on the outdoor terrace of a coffee shop, drinking a cappuccino and reading a book. At a nearby table was an overweight man and a woman. He appeared to be an advisor of some sort, judging by the way she just listened while he talked, seemingly at great length about matters of grave importance.

At another table was a man tapping at a laptop, with a white poodle at his feet. I'll call the poodle 'Paul'. Paul had organized himself on a towel laid down for his benefit, and was surveying the scene around him. Evidently the scene did not impress him much, because after a while Paul started tugging at his lead, pawing at the towel and yapping at passers-by.

"SHUT UPPPP!" This came from the advisor man, who obviously didn't appreciate being interrupted while dispensing wisdom. Paul looked at him irritably, trying to decide if the man was of any use to him at all. He thought not, and continued yapping. The man tried a theatrical "ssshhhh", Paul was not convinced, and his owner remained engrossed in his laptop.

The man went to the washroom. He took a few minutes and reappeared looking grim, in a way that made me sympathize with the mother and son going in after him. He glowered at Paul, and continued to hiss and shout until, having lost the flow of their advisory session, he and the woman finally gave up and left. Paul at last persuaded his owner that enough was enough, and they left too.

What struck me about this was how unafraid the man was to make a scene over something that annoyed him. As an Englishman, I might whisper to my friend about the wretched dog ruining our coffee break, or complain at length when I got home, or let the irritation fester inside me for a few days. But shout, and get emotional in public? That would just be too embarrassing, surely?

Police in the US

I have realized that whenever I see a police officer here I tend to be on my best behavior. In the car I will sit up straight, arrange my hands in the 10-to-2 position on the steering wheel, and proceed in careful observance of the speed limit. And in person I might make a show of picking up some litter or helping an old lady across the street, hoping for a nod of approval from the officer for my public service.

Why do I do this? In the UK I was appropriately law-abiding, but wasn't so eager to please those enforcing the laws. Maybe policing is done differently here, and is more effective at gaining respect?

Certainly the US police seem somewhat cooler than their UK counterparts. Names like LAPD and NYPD give a strong identity, even if they sound slightly like a venereal disease. American police cars are all gravitas as they patrol the streets, while the British police busy about in their Vauxhall Cavaliers.

In my mind, in the UK there will always be "bobbies": a bit paunchy, a bit "ello ello what's goin' on 'ere then",  and a bit prone to wearing improbably tall hard hats. Whereas in the US there will be, by contrast, "cops", with their guns, swagger and aviator sunglasses.

I had occasion to meet a couple of Los Angeles police officers recently (purely in a social context, you understand), and they were quite normal - probably no different to the men and women on the beat in London and Manchester. The names are different - more Carlos and Brent, than Nigel and Darren - but their outlook, manner (and, yes, their paunches) are familiar.

So whether there really is any difference in the quality of policing, or whether it is the glamorizing portrayal of the police in US movies and TV, it seems to work on the likes of me. It must be quite a relief to the authorities, as they combat drug trafficking and gang warfare, to know that the middle-class Englishmen will stay in order.