In her essay for a N.Y. Times Summer Movies piece, Seeking A Friend for the End of the World director-writer Lorene Scafaria writes that Amy Heckerling‘s Clueless (’95) “taught us phrases like ‘She’s a Monet,’ gave new meaning to the term ‘grassy knoll’ and offered the truism that ‘everywhere in L.A. takes 20 minutes.'”
Clueless was 17 years ago, and before you know it that number will be 20. Plus that “20 minutes” line was probably written a year or two earlier. Today everything in Los Angeles takes at least 40 to 45 minutes, and often closer to an hour.
Unless you’re on a scooter, that is, in which case it can still take 20 minutes…or even less. A month ago my scooter and I made it from West WeHo to the Arclight in — no lie — nine minutes. 7:15 to 7:24 pm. Okay, 10 or 11 minutes if you count entering the parking structure and finding a spot and locking up, etc. And okay, yes — I dart in and out of lanes and drive like a hyper 17 year-old. But when you’re pressed for time, a scooter is the only way to go in that town.
I scootered all over Berlin yesterday afternoon, and nobody was enjoying more speed or easy access or easy parking. Scooters or public transportation, man. To hell with cars, and to hell with women who won’t give you the time of day unless you drive slick wheels.