Stranded in Stereo's editor has jumped ship and is living in Los Angeles now! The west coast is a weird place, and it's even stranger when you're a native east coaster. Read the new column "Stuck on the (Wrong?) Coast" for all of Dany's observations while he is on what very well could be the wrong coast.

It's Friday afternoon in Los Angeles and I am about to complete my second week of work from the west coast. By all accounts I should be thrilled being out here -- beautiful weather almost every day, a big desk and a quiet office. My house may not be in the best neighborhood, but it's big and it has a yard and a garage.

Although things might be pretty awesome so far and still getting acclimated to how things work, like the fact that I need to drive everywhere or that jaywalking laws are actually enforced or that most people really don't understand sarcasm, but I can to learn to love this place, right? I am down with other cultures.

Instead of having some kind of running theme throughout this first column, I am just going to string together some stories and observations. This is Los Angeles and shit is crazy out here.

- Everyone is so damn slow out here. People walk slow, I get served slowly at Starbucks and everyone is way too laid back. The only time there is any immediacy is when someone is driving a car, and then all bets are off. Excuse the language, but most people drive like fucking idiots out here. I can't believe the lack of courtesy and respect that some drivers have.

- There is this weird "hall monitor" (Thanks, Susie) mindset. The other day, I was crossing the street and while I did not have a walk signal, I decided that it was perfectly OK to walk because there were no cars coming. As I was crossing, someone on the other side thought it was their duty to tell me I was jaywalking.

- The following day I was waiting in a fairly long line at Starbucks in Santa Monica. This is the time when the guy at register needs to pick it up and cut the small talk, but of course it's more important to feel nice and smile than get one's drink quickly and get back to work. But that's not the point of the story. A business-type in front of me, probably in his 50s, decided to return his newspaper, but then he quickly returned to his spot. It didn't bother me, but John Q. Douchebag in back of me had a problem.

As the guy returns to the line, the guy directly behind me ask the business man, "Are you two together?" while he looks at me as well. Mr. Business Man knew exactly what he was hinting at, so he responds "I just got out of line to put the paper back," and to that Mr. Douche J. Bag ludicrously suggests that he get to the end of the line. Are you fucking kidding me? Ok, Mr. Hall Monitor. I just wanted to diffuse the situation, so I turned around and said "If it makes you feel any better, we are together. I don't see the big deal." Everyone went back to their business and Mr. Douche J. Bag seemed pacified.

This will be my life for the next three years, so hopefully I will learn to appreciate all of the quirks of the other coast. Although I love the weather, I can't see myself ending up here. Of course I could pull a total 180 in the next few years, and if that happens, I'll eat my hat.

Until next time.