Los Angeles. My first visit to L. A. has been prompted by a wedding, and, having come here, I think it would take another wedding to get me back. Still, it’s been marvelous to see my buddy Jeff, meet his wife Shelagh, and hang out with their exceedingly kind and courteous families; really, everything’s been great about Los Angeles except Los Angeles.

Not that I’m really in Los Angeles. They made their vows over an hour away in Diamond Bar, which, as any one in Diamond Bar will tell you within five minutes, has the honor of being (one of the) homes of rap artist Snoop Doggy Dog. He did not make it to the wedding, but everything else went quite well.

My first glimpses of California have all been through windows, plane, car, or hotel, so I don’t think I’ve done the state justice. But it’s such a different biosphere from Western New York. There, we have rolling hills with trees on them, or live vegetation. Here, they have bare mountains and hills sprouting yellow kindling. And flat fields and strip malls in between.

Growing up near D. C., I thought I knew about Sprawl. Oops. I’m an hour from L. A., an hour, and the highway is still four or five lanes on both sides. Strip malls and housing puddles have seeped out from these outlying towns until they don’t quite touch, so next to some overbuilt, classy office complex there’ll sit a chain link fence and a dying bit of desert, waiting to be claimed for commerce.

Then there’s the whole “dry heat” thing. My west coast friends have always extolled the virtues of dry heat, explaining that it can be over a hundred degrees and feel all right. They have rarely added that air doesn’t seem to like being dry, and will suck moisture through your helpless pores while you clumsily bail water back in through the mouth. Today, when we walked out of a restaurant, I was excited to find this familiar, friendly feeling of some kind of moisture balance between me and the outside world; it was promptly dubbed “humid.” I looked up, and remembered what clouds looked like. It really is handy to have something between you and the sun once in awhile. They should try it more often.

Anyhow, what I meant to blog about was that despite my allergic reaction to the heat and the whole project of plastering a megalopolis on top of a desert like a chunky facial, it’s been a lovely trip. Unlike my own wedding, my buddy and his new bride have hung around for a few days before departing for the Honeymoon Proper. I’ve been to many weddings (like mine) where you’ve been apart from the friend for so long that the day or two before the Event is just enough time to feel somewhat normal again and really miss him when the reception ends.

Not this time. Today I had a leisurely lunch with a Jeff and Shelagh who have been released from all wedding worries for at least the next 18 years. Pre-wedding “visiting”? There’s no comparison.

So there’s a nice little custom for you. Too late for me, but maybe your day is yet to come.