The Fool on the Scooter

This is a true story.

I'm riding home from work on my Piaggio scooter. About a half-mile from my house the traffic stops at a red light. Because it's legal in California, I ride up the center line, between traffic.

As I was riding past the lead cars, I was hit with a blast of "marijuana odor" from the vehicle to my right -- a newish pickup truck.

Now, when I lane-split, I typically pull up ahead of the lead vehicles, just to let them know, "Hey, there's motorcycle here now."

As I slowed to a stop the guy in the marijuana truck started inching forward.

Shit.

Because, when someone sees me and starts inching forward, either they want to race me off of the line or they want to mess with me. Or both. It sucks. I just want to get home, but some people need to be the "fastest and the baddest" on the road...and my mere presence challenges their perceived road dominance.

I hate these people. They are dangerous and stupid, and Los Angeles seems to be full of them.

Anyhow, marijuana-pickup-truck-dude-guy pulls forward and yells out his window at me:

"What are you doing, fool?"

He really punches the word "fool," for full dramatic effect.

I glance over and see a stubble-faced redheaded shithead in his late 40s. Of course, I'd love to explain the legality of what I'm doing, as well as the concept that being "stopped at a red light" is generally considered pretty safe...but stupid angry people have a hard time being reasonable; Especially when they're behind the wheel of a car. So I ignore him, and stare straight ahead.

The light turns green. As he goes tearing off, he delivers his parting shot: 

"Good way to die!"

He then proceeds to speed away, cut in front of me, make an illegal left-hand turn, run a stop sign, and pull into a dive bar parking lot.

Seriously. That's what he did. I'm not exaggerating.

Now, I'll go months without any problems like this. Typically, Los Angeles drivers know the law, and many will even pull over to the side to make way for motorcycles that are lane-splitting (I do this all the time if I catch a motorcycle in my rear-view mirror), and when they do, I always give them a thank-you wave. I've never been in a seriously dangerous situation, and "people being shitheads" is usually as bad as it gets.

All the same, though...it sucks when it happens. Makes me so irritated, generally, that I get home and go, "Goddammit...I'm going to sit down a write a blog about this."


Meta.

Coming to Los Angeles Part 4: I'm Here! Now What?

So you did it, huh? You moved. You actually moved. I can't believe you actually frigging did it...

Idiot.

Ha ha. You're screwed now. LOL!

Good luck earning back all of that money you used to move here.

You won't last a year.

Probably won't even last six months.

But hey, if you do make longer, be prepared for several years of obscurity and failure.

I hope you like appearing in "self-produced low budget web videos" for the rest of your career!

Also, it's a good idea to prepare excuses to friends and relatives as to why you haven't "made it" yet.

Here are some popular ones:

"I don't have an agent, so..."

"I have an agent, but he's really crappy and he never gets me auditions, so..."

"I'm not in the union, so..."

"I joined the union too early and I can't compete with lower-paid non-union actors, so..."

"I'm not pretty enough, so..."

"I'm not skinny enough, so..."

"It's not what you know, it's who you know, so..."

"My boss threatened to fire me if I went to that audition, so..."

"I don't have any credits, and I can't get any credits because I don't have any credits (CATCH-22!), so..."

"I've just been really unlucky, so..."

"There aren't any roles for people my age/type/build/hair color/gender/ethnicity/species, so..."

"I need new headshots, but I can't afford them, so..."

And so on. You can use one of mine, or make your own! It's fun!

But that reminds me, have you seen my latest web video? It's hilarious!!! It's got a 25% funny on "Funny Or Die"!!!!

Crazy Train - watch more funny videos

Ugh. Okay. Sorry. Enough with the bitterness and negativity. We're here to have fun and build up your confidence, right?

Right?

Anyhow, I was totally kidding anyway. You're definitely going to make it here...because you have spunk. Talent. You've got star power, kid, and you will "make it" where others have failed.

It's your destiny.

But first things first -- once you've unpacked, set up your internet/cable, and thrown your own "Welcome Me to Los Angeles" BBQ/Housewarming, just take a week to do some LA stuff.

If you're on a budget (aren't we all), you should spend that first week doing some free/cheap stuff. Don't worry -- there's no rush. The "industry" isn't going anywhere.

Here's some budget-friendly ideas for your "Los Angeles Honeymoon" period. Check out Griffith Park (and the Observatory). Go down to the Santa Monica Pier. Check out the Walk of Fame. Experience the crowds of interesting people at the Venice Boardwalk. Buy a hot dog at Pinks. Eat at In-and-Out. Take pictures of the Hollywood sign (you can hike up behind the sign if you're up to it...I've done this about a half-dozen times). Walk around at The Grove. Get intimidated by the rich folks on Rodeo Drive. Drive around and locate some famous filming locations from your favorite TV shows and movies. Shoot an "I MOVED TO LA!!!" video about your adventure, featuring all of the neat places you went and post it to YouTube.

Then post the link here, so I can watch it. I promise I'll watch in a dimly lit room, late at night, with a few days' worth of stubble, wearing sweatpants, and eating a Snickers bar.

What fun!

Once you've got that out of your system, and you're now in love with Los Angeles (no one wants to hear you complain about Los Angeles, so please don't do that)...you can get down to the nitty-gritty of "breaking into the acting business."

But where to start?

Well...I'll tell you. Step one is the subject of my next blog entry: Marketing Materials.

Until then, here's another great web video I wrote, produced, and directed!!!

Success?

This year's tax return was quite a shock, for a number of reasons. The first (and most important) being that, for the first time since I was a teenager, I owed money. Not just "money," but a substantial amount of money.

So I decided, after consulting with a few "entertainment biz" colleagues, to see if an "accountant" could improve my numbers at all.

I assembled all of my 2010 receipts...laboriously went through my checking account statement...and printed out about 100 pages worth of tax document information from the current and previous year. I was planning on writing off as much as I legally could.

I brought it to the accountant...who was a very unconventional, borderline slovenly older gentleman dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He spent about 10 minutes looking at my assembled tax documents:

"I see that you put all of your deductions on your Schedule C."

"Yep." I guess that's the name of the document the HR Block software used.

"Makes sense. That's the only was you're going to get any money back."

He continued flipping through my documents, looking a little nervous. "So, Tyler, are you familiar with the hobby loss rule?"

"Um...no."

"Basically, it's an IRS law that says if you lose money on your business in three of five years, it's considered a hobby, not a job."

"Oh."

Awesome. So this meant I probably wasn't going to do much better on my tax return (shortly after the hobby loss discussion, he said, "I'm going to be brutally honest with you; I can't help you. I'm not going to take your money, but I suggest you just eat the cost.").

But not only that, it also meant that I'm not sure I can call myself a professional actor any more; technically. I mean, I'll still do it...because it sounds cool. but according to the IRS, I currently have a very expensive "acting hobby."

Don't worry -- you haven't stumbled upon a "Woe is me!!! I'm not famooose yet!" blog entry that every actor with a blog posts a minimum of once a year.

On the contrary...I've never wanted, nor expected fame and fortune. I mean, my goal from the moment I moved to Los Angeles was to be a "working actor." It hasn't happened yet, but that's why it's a "goal," not an "expectation." If it never happens...then so be it. I tried, like hundreds of thousands that have come before me, and I didn't quite get there. It's totally fine, and I'm prepared for it.

But ideally, of course, I'd like to be a working actor. I'm trying, sure, but I definitely could be doing more. I think that's one of the great fallacies that actors buy into -- the "I've worked my ass off, and I have nothing to show for it" whine. Not everyone works their ass off as much as they should/could/say they do. It's a lie that actors tell themselves to excuse their lack of success. Most "actors" have day jobs that consume too much of their time...or they watch television...or play video games...or take on a non-acting hobby of some kind...and time gets wasted.

Then again, only crazy people are actually thinking about how to improve their acting careers every waking hour...and crazy people are generally pretty terrible actors (in spite of what you may have heard).

Another lie actors tell themselves is: "It's just a matter of time" (I tell this lie to myself all the time, in an effort to stay positive). I mean...that's true for some people, but for a lot of people it's just another excuse for the inevitable depressing career examination. For most folks, no matter how hard they try, no matter how much effort the into it, and no matter how long they try, they're probably not going to reach the level of success they desire/deserve.

Success is a funny thing. I've been around quite a bit of success...which is what prompted this blog entry, I suppose. I've worked with two Tony winners (one also has a Pulitzer, the other owns a Peabody), an American Idol Runner-Up, six actors that are currently (or will soon be) appearing on Broadway, and countless others with Broadway credits, legitimate film and television credits, and popular voice-over credits (including the voice of Portal's GlaDOS).

If you couldn't tell, I love name dropping.

The point is (is there a point?) I've seen success happen. For the most part, when I knew these people they weren't successful working actors; they were struggling local actors who became successful through hard work, talent, perseverance, and good fortune.

And of course, success was richly deserved by each person.

Now, if I were the jealous type, I'd be pretty disheartened by all of this. "Why not me???" an annoying person might moan. But I'm not that guy (for the most part). I'm proud of all of them, and honored to have known them before they hit it big. I consider them friends, and I think they'd consider me likewise.

But what about my "career?" Personally, I don't think my time has passed, to be delusionally frank (it's just a matter of time!!!), and I don't think I'll ever give up on it. When I look back at my silly little life, even if I don't ultimately become a success in the entertainment industry, I can always be proud of the fact that I moved to Los Angeles, tried to achieve all of my dreams, and came pretty damn close.

So I'll keep trying...because nothing's stopping me, really. There will be some months where I'm working very hard, and doing a lot. There will be other months where I'm just sorta' sitting on my ass, doing nothing. But I don't see myself ever really stopping. If it's a job, or just a hobby, I don't think I'll ever stop acting.

And if success happens; cool. If not...well damn; at least I tried.

Coming to Los Angeles Part 3: Living in Los Angeles

"Hi, Tyler," you sneer, "where should I live?"

The truth is...if you want to be "available" for the acting stuff, you could live pretty much anywhere you like, as long as you can get to downtown Los Angeles in about two hours, during rush hour (ask Google Maps what that means). Ask anyone who lives outside of town -- they will all say: "Aw, the commute's not that bad." And, in spite of what you've heard about the evils of Los Angeles traffic...generally, it isn't that bad.


"But Tyler," you simper, "I hear there's lots of crime happening in Los Angeles. Should I be worried?"

Good question. Crime is bad, and if you're really concerned, you'll probably want to live in an area with a low crime rate (and if you want to drive yourself berserk with a bunch of terrifying interactive maps and statistics, go here: http://projects.latimes.com/mapping-la/crime/).

But the truth of the matter is, no matter where you are -- from Inglewood to Brentwood, from Compton to Calabasas, from Watts to Westwood -- people have to live. There are no "war zones" in Los Angeles, in spite of how scary it might look on the outside, and in spite of the looming specter of "gangs" and "drugz."

The neighborhood that looks like "the ghetto," is probably full of families who are just going about their day-to-day business. I guarantee you it's safer than it looks. Our first year, we lived in Silver Lake, which is one of the nicest areas east of Hollywood...but whenever we had visitors, we would be inundated with sirens and police helicopters. We knew we were safe, but to the outsider, it can seem quite scary.

On the other hand, I had a friend who moved to Los Angeles and lived in a very upscale apartment in Westwood (one of the nicest areas west of Hollywood). On her first night in the city, a SWAT team was called in to arrest one of the tenants of her building.

But generally, things are safer than they seem. Having said that, though...no one wants to live in a bad neighborhood. It sucks. It's loud, irritating, and scary (especially at night). It's not necessarily "dangerous," but all the same, it may sound like common sense, but I'm going to say it anyway: the better the neighborhood, the better the neighbor.

So, a general guideline? Stay north of the 10 (except for Culver City), west of the 110 (except for Pasadena), south of the 118 (unless you love really long commutes), and east of Malibu (if you can afford to live in the 'Bu, then more power to you...but you might want to use all that goddamn money you have to live a little closer to the action). That ought to put you in a good-ish area, close enough to all of the actor-type places you'll need to get to.


"Hey Tyler," you bleat, "why do you keep calling freeways 'The [freeway number]?'"

Good question. That's just how they do it here. Don't ask me. I spent most of my life traveling on "405", "99" and "I-5". Now every freeway has a "the" in front of it. I personally don't care for it...but when in Rome, right?

Los Angeles is divided up into three main areas -- The Valley (San Fernando Valley), Hollywood (The area just south of the Hollywood Hills, to just north of the 10) and "Everywhere else" (if you live outside of one of those two areas, you'll have to say the name, then possibly explain where it is using well-known areas -- for instance, I live in Tujunga, which is north of Glendale and La Crescenta, and just south of Sunland...which is how I describe it to everyone who asks).


"So, Tyler," you squeal, "what's the best place to live?"

Good question. It totally depends on your situation. Generally, if you want to be near the places that you need to be at as an actor, Hollywood is probably the best place to live. Most of the commercial audition studios (I'll discuss those later) are in the Hollywood area, and the majority of the casting offices are around there too. Of course, not everyone wants to live in Hollywood, because it's really expensive, and really crowded. It's like living in Manhattan, but without any viable means of public transportation. So if you're into that, then by all means...

But from what I can tell, no one actually lives in Hollywood. No one. Trust me, I've looked. It's too expensive, and crowded (did I say that already? I can't remember...). But if you find a place, and you like being pestered all the time, then go for it.

But other than that, the places that are famous for being full of rich folks (Beverly Hills, Brentwood, Bel Air, Westwood, anywhere in the Hollywood Hills) are, of course, going to be good places to live. Also, any neighborhood with a large gay population (West Hollywood and Silver Lake) is likewise going to be a great place to live.

So, what are some other choices, for you people that can't afford $3,000 a month in rent?

Personally, like all people in the Los Angeles area, I'm completely biased toward the places that I've lived. So I'd recommend you live there too.

I loved living in Silver Lake. It's a lovely, well-located area that's away from the throbbing beat of Hollywood and Downtown Los Angeles, you can get pretty much anywhere in 15 minutes -- including places up in the valley (no need for freeways, though those are all easy enough to get to).

Silver Lake is next to Atwater Village and Glendale, and the same rules apply to those places. Some areas of Glendale may appear to be a little scary, but they're not. The only real scary place around Glendale is "Glassell Park." Actually, now that I think about it, any area with the word "Park" in it is one to avoid.

As for "the valley," the closer to the Hollywood Hills you can get, the better the living situation. Burbank is, of course, quite lovely...and quite expensive. Same goes for Studio City, Toluca Lake, and Sherman Oaks.

For the budget-minded (you poor non-rich bastards), the southern part of North Hollywood is still good (but definitely check out the neighborhood before you move...in and around the Arts District is best). Valley Village and Sherman Village are both good (much like "Park" is a warning sign, "Village" is generally a good thing).

Once you get too far north, and/or too far west in the valley, you start to run into problems. Van Nuys gets crappy very quickly. Same goes for Northridge, Granada Hills, Chatsworth, North Hills, Reseda, Porter Ranch, and Winnetka. I honestly don't know a lot about these areas, and the quality varies greatly (I'm sure there are nice areas there too) but in general, I'd be very careful in selecting a house/apartment in the area.

Avoid Sun Valley, Pacoima, and San Fernando. Those places just give me the willies...don't know why. You might find something nice...but just be very careful.

As for the area south of the Hollywood Hills, you're pretty much good anywhere you go, so long as you're north of the 10 freeway (except for MacArthur Park and Downtown, which tend to get very skeevy).

If none of these do you any good, you can go to the "farther out" places that are still relatively clean and acceptable. I hear Eagle Rock is nice, but every time I go there, I secretly hate it. Same with Culver City -- it looks fine, and I like the idea...but for some reason it's always seems either overcrowded, or dirty, or too far out, or...I don't know. I just don't like it.

Pasadena/Altadena (really the same place) is nice, but it's a drive, and it can be expensive (especially the closer you are to downtown Pasadena). La Crescenta/Montrose (actually they are the same place) is also quite nice, but it's very expensive for as far out as it is.

[edit] After receiving some feedback from a dear friend and blog contributor, apparently Echo Park is becoming a nice place to live, I quote: "still affordable and more gentrified everyday." Apparently, now there is even an organic smoothie shop, the existence of which I think might trump the "every area with the word 'park' in it is a bad area. Personally, I have my doubts. I ran around the little pond in Echo Park one time, and it smelled vaguely of (what I hope was dog or goose) feces. But I wouldn't hold the quality of the park against the rest of the neighborhood, which (from what I recall) looked quite lovely.

As for the rest? Hell, I don't know...maybe they're little diamonds in the rough, and you'll be the first one to colonize the "Next Silver Lake" (which is supposedly Eagle Rock...so maybe you'll be looking for the "Next Eagle Rock"). You'll move here and be like, "Wow, Huntington Park is a fantastic place to live, even though it has the word 'Park' in the name!!!" Or "Everyone's moving to Panorama City!!! CATCH THE WAVE!!!!!!"

Best advice -- visit the place you want to live at night. If you get panhandled in front of your house, or if you get mugged or shot, odds are you're in a bad place.


"Well, Tyler," you grumble, "is there anything else I need to know?"

Good question. I don't think so. If there is, I haven't thought of it, so it's probably not that important. Odds are, if you live in an apartment, your next-door neighbor is going to play his/her music way too loud. It's a fact of life -- the dumber the person, the louder they like their music (by the way, if you are that next door neighbor that plays their music way too loud, then I hate you; no one else wants to hear your music, so put headphones on, or turn it down you egocentric jag-off).

As for laws, security deposits, pets, scams, and all of that other boring stuff? I don't know, really...I haven't had any problems, and I don't know anyone who's had serious problems with that stuff. Most folks here like their landlords, and if they don't, they probably live in a crappy neighborhood. Caveat emptor...

Finding places to look at can be a challenge, especially if you're on a budget, or you have special needs. We mainly used Craigslist, but it can be helpful to just drive around neighborhoods you like, and look for "For Rent" signs. It can be a little time-consuming, as well as gas-consuming, but it's a great way to get a lay of the land while you're visiting, looking for a place to live.


"Dude, Tyler," you croon, in a velvety tone that immediately commands respect and admiration, "I will ONLY live in the 'parks'. Affordable, diverse, safe (unless you are in a gang) and really great food and music. And as the gentrification wave spreads east the new hotspot is gonna be Highland Park- mark my words."

Good question. Perhaps I've been a bit unfair to the "______ Park" areas of Los Angeles...so I should explain, and perhaps reiterate some things.

First, the reiteration -- every neighborhood is livable. You can tell it's livable, because people live there. Many people. And the vast majority of them are good, honest, decent human beings who have their own stuff to worry about...meaning they'll leave you alone (if you want them to).

Also, I should point out, that if you're a young, pretty, skinny Caucasian female (you know, the ones that the media likes talking about), then you could easily walk by yourself at night, through the worst neighborhoods in Los Angeles, every night, for 365 days straight, and nothing bad would happen to you. I can almost guarantee that you'd be totally fine...and other than a few catcalls, some panhandling, and maybe a little intimidation, you'd be left completely alone.

But...

The real issue is: "How much are you willing to put up with to live in an affordable/centrally located neighborhood." Yes, most of these affordable areas are quite culturally rich, with people from all walks of life, making for a variable tapestry of human experience. You'll get to know the guy who runs the local bodega. You'll be familiar (even possibly friendly) with the homeless people that frequent your street corners. You'll get to experience trying to communicate with shopkeepers that don't speak your language. You'll be buying all kinds of non-FDA approved groceries with not a lick of English on the package. Fruit will come fresher. Stores will be intimate, and family-owned. You'll feel like you're a part of the neighborhood, more so than you would living somewhere "nicer." It can be, honestly, a very enriching experience.

But, on the down side living there can be loud, and intrusive...especially if you choose to live in an apartment complex (which you probably will). Most of your neighbors will be great...but the bad ones will be just horrible. You'll have to get used to hearing domestic disputes. Babies crying. Sirens. Low-flying helicopters. Loud cars. Dogs barking. You'll see lots of garbage in the streets. Stray cats. Rats. Broken glass. You'll experience uncaring landlords, and probably be living in old, run-down properties.

For some people, it's totally worth it. They can put on headphones. Turn up the TV. Patch up holes in the drywall. Get used to the smell of mold. And (generally) shut out the outside world (or learn to love it / live with it). It's entirely possible, because the outside world will absolutely leave you alone if you want it to.

People who don't mind this are the people who stayed in Youth Hostels when they visited Europe (instead of private rooms), or the people who lived in a house with eight other people in college. They're not bothered by the little inconveniences in life.

I envy those people, because I'm not one of them (and my wife even less so). I like quiet nights on the couch, and silence when I go to bed. I don't want to listen to the couple next door screaming at each other in Spanish (or Russian, or Armenian). I don't want my neighbor to be arrested by a SWAT team one night. I don't want to be bitten when I'm walking with my wife and a pit bull escapes from his enclosure. I could never tolerate the smell of garbage. And (like I mentioned earlier) I don't want to hear someone else's music. Ever.

So that's my take on that. If you're a quiet, unassuming suburban kid (like myself), you'll probably want to spend a little more to live in a nicer neighborhood. If you're urban, or in love with everything urban, then by all means...get thee to a _____ Park.

It's your call.


"Yo, Tyler," you speak using your mouth organ, "can I stay with you while I look for a place?"

Good question. No.

Coming to Los Angeles Part 2: Preparing to Prepare

Didn't scare you off, did I? Good. I didn't think I would. That's what I like about you -- your determination. Your drive. Hell, you've got spunk, kid...and I think you're really going to make it.

Because I hear you. You've made up your mind. You're going to roll the dice. Awesome. Follow your dreams. Carpe your diem. You won't know if you don't try. Fortune favors the brave. Veni vidi vici. Git 'er done. Only you can prevent forest fires. FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDOM!!!!!!!!

So get your ass over here. How? It's easy. Start heading west. When you hit an ocean, turn left and follow the coast. Before you know it, BOOM! You're in Los Angeles (note -- Hawaii and southern Florida...I'm sorry, it's impossible to get to California from your state. Sorry!).

But before you take that drastic step, let's talk about what you need to do before you leave. Because, believe it or not, some things are much cheaper and easier where you live than they are in Los Angeles, and I really want you to get your crap together before you move.

The first and most important thing you'll probably need is money. Unless you want to start working as soon as you arrive in Los Angeles (and where's the fun in that?), you'll probably want a nice little chunk of "starter cash."

How much? Well, let's break it down.

The first, and biggest chunk of your budget will probably go to rent. Now, I think the best thing to do is move down in a group, for a two reasons.

1) It's cheaper.
B) You've got a built-in support group.

My wife and I moved down with another couple, found a lovely little apartment in Silver Lake, and spent about $600 per month in rent. That was with 4 people, living in a nice two-bedroom apartment (with one bathroom). Another friend of mine found an apartment in a not-as-nice-but-still-fairly-good neighborhood in Glendale with a single roommate, and he spent about $800 a month. Another couple friend of ours found a one bedroom apartment in a not-very-good neighborhood in southern Glendale, and paid about $600 a month in rent.

So, depending on the amenities you need (laundry room, swimming pool, kitchen, refrigerator, running water), plan on spending anywhere from $500 up to $1000 per person for your basic Los Angeles "I'm-an-actor-so-I-live-in-squalor" apartment. You'll also need to plunk down money for a security deposit -- the standard rate is somewhere between one month's rent, up to double that. It's even more if you want to bring your puppy or kitty along for the ride (which I highly recommend -- you'll need all the support you can get).

For utilities, tack on anywhere from $100 to $300 (depending on whether you want internet, TV, land line, etc), $125 for gas (you'll be driving a lot), $300 for food, $20 for website subscriptions (we'll go over those later), and any other silly expenses you brought with you from home (credit cards, auto insurance, cell phones). After all is said and done, plan on spending anywhere from $1,000 to $3,000 per month to live in Los Angeles...again, all depending on how cheap you want to do it.

Not to mention you'll probably need new head shots (those black and white ones that your roommate took last year will not cut it...I don't care how talented he/she is, or how much positive feedback you got. You're going to need new ones), some acting classes, some irritating "enrollment fees" (I'll go over all of those later), and other unexpected expenses (I guarantee your car will break down in the first couple of months -- it's inevitable).

Now, ideally, you'd want to "not have a job" for at least the first six months after you finish your move. We'll go over why I recommend that later, but let's just say, to be safe, you save up about $10,000 to $20,000 for your move down, to comfortably weather the six month "adjustment period."

What that? You don't have that much money? Then you suck. Seriously, you suck. You'll never make it in this town. Might as well not even move if you don't have that much money laying around. Acting is only for the insanely wealthy, and if you're not insanely wealthy, you will fail. I promise.

Kidding. There are other, relatively easy ways of making a little bit of money that don't involve a full-time job (catering, background work, prostitution) that can supplement that initial investment without seriously cramping your availability for actual legitimate acting stuff...so not to fear. If you want to seriously rough it, you can probably make your move work for about $2,000 or so, but I wouldn't go much lower than that because you'd be making it very hard on yourself (hee hee). Los Angeles has enough lovely homeless folks roaming about the freeway off-ramps...we don't need any more.

But enough talk about money. We didn't become actors "for the money," did we? This is about ART dammit! Craft! Passion! We want to move people, make them weep, change the world through our elaborate game of "professional make-believe." Tell us what else we need to prepare!

Couple of things. First, if you can, try to get your SAG Eligibility (that stands for "Screen Actor's Guild", and it's an actor's union...in case you didn't know). Don't know what SAG Eligibility is? Don't worry...we can take care of that when you move down. But whatever you do:

DO NOT JOIN SAG

Did I get your attention? Did you see the big pretty red letter? No? Then I'll reiterate: do not join SAG. I'll explain why later, but basically, you'll be massively hampering your ability to get gigs when you move here, and since you're inexperienced, you're unlikely to book the sweet "union" jobs anyway. By all means, become "Eligible" to join SAG, but do not pay that $2,000+ enrollment until you absolutely have to.

Another thing to do before you leave is: learn how to act. I know, seems like a no-brainer...but it's honestly not as important as people might think, which is why I moved it down the list. Personally, I spent my whole first year in Los Angeles trying to get my head around the concept of "not acting." This was after having spent the previous 2 years as an honest-to-God professional stage actor in Seattle.

"Pish," you say. "Acting is acting is acting." Good. I said the same thing. But do me a favor. Take a single "reaction" that you gave on stage (the bigger the house, the better)...maybe something you did that got a laugh every night...or moved audience members to tears. Now, take that same reaction and film it -- you don't even have to do it in a super close-up. Just a normal, medium shot. Then watch it back. You see? You didn't do it, did you? Well...you've been warned.

If any of your "acting reactions" are the least bit presentational, they will look incredibly forced on camera, and you'll be exposed as the novice you are. If you "project" with your voice, you'll blow out the audio and it'll sound terrible. Anything you do that would get a laugh from someone 50 feet away will look horribly fake when put on film.

But that's not to say "You're fine. You don't need to know how to act. Just wing it." Because you really ought to know something about acting before you go. If you can, find a local, reputable acting school and take a few classes (but be fully prepared to dismiss a good portion of the instruction you receive, since not all acting teachers are actually good at their job).

As for what classes to take...if you know the difference between Stanislavski and Strasburg, then I'd recommend taking some specialized "film acting" classes. If you don't know the difference between Meisner and Method Acting, then you should take some regular old "acting classes."

Of course, you don't have to go crazy -- like I say, learning to act is not totally essential before you go, because there are lots of classes here, and some of the classes in your home town might be terrible, as well as a waste of time and money. But it helps to have an understanding of the basics so you're not totally clueless when you get here.

I mean, you wouldn't be the first person to watch someone on TV and think "Eh, that's not so hard. I could do that." There 7 billion people on earth who think the same thing; and they're not wrong. Thinking "I could do that" is not a revelation, so please don't ever say it. "Doing that" is not the hard part; "booking that" is the hard part. Anyone could deliver a single line in a movie convincingly, given enough coaching and takes, but very few people could go out and actually book that bastard based on their acting merits alone.

But I don't want to go into that too much now -- I'll cover "what classes to take" and "what to do when you book something" later on. You can worry about that when you get here.

Other preparations? I don't know...you'll probably want a car (public transportation is doable, but it's still really crappy compared to every other big city in the US). Think about where you want to live (that'll be the subject of my next blog), and who you want to live with.

And finally, just think about it. You sure you want to do this? I mean, you're probably not going to be successful, and even if you are, it'll probably take years of you earning no money, and just sitting on your ass waiting for the phone to ring (and it won't).

So, I'll ask again, are absolutely you're sure you want to do this?

Yes?

Okay. Good. You passed the test. I said it before, and I meant it; I like you, kid. You've definitely got "it." Now, get down here, and parlay that "it" into massive fame and fortune, you lucky little bastard. Damn straight -- this is you, buddy:

Coming to Los Angeles Part 1: Managing Expectations

So, you've decided to move to Los Angeles to pursue your movie career, eh? Sweet! I'm proud of you. You've officially become a cliché. Might as well get used to it now.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. Hell, I did the same damn thing in 2008, knowing full well that I was following in the hallowed footsteps of previous millions of deluded souls. "But I'm going to be different," I thought...which is the same thing that every actor thought when they moved.

Am I different? Well, I'm certainly older now, definitely much wiser, and while I'm not a household name, I think I've done fairly well for myself. I'm proud of my accomplishments. Could I have accomplished more? Sure. Did I miss opportunities? Oh hell yes. Tons. Did I play far too many video games when I should have been writing scripts or practicing my craft? Absolutely. But everyone makes mistakes. Everyone procrastinates. Everyone wastes time. It's inevitable. You will too...I promise...and if you let it get you down, it'll break you.

The important thing to remember is that the odds are against you. I know you've heard that before, and you'll hear that many more times from many different people...but it's a very important lesson. In all likelihood, you're not going to achieve the success you dream about, and think you deserve. You're not. Quiet that "BUT I'M DIFFERENT" voice for a second and just let that sink it. It's very unlikely. Not only will you not be cast in movies and TV shows, you won't even be able to audition for them. In fact, you won't even be able to see the agents who could possibly send you to those auditions. You'll be shut out, with no one to help you in a cold, uncaring world. It's unfair, and if you don't like it, you really out to look into another line of work.

In fact, your quest to even get into a big theatrical casting director's office (one that casts prime time TV shows or big budget movies) could easily take years. That's "years" with an "s." Not weeks. Not months. Years. Multiple years. It took me a year and a half. Some of my friends are still trying.

Don't believe me? Look at the IMDb profile of your favorite celebrity. Who is it? Brad Pitt? He moved to Los Angeles in 1986. He worked odd jobs, had a few "background" gigs in 1987, had a short recurring role on Dallas in 1988, got a few more TV roles in 1989 & 1990, then in 1991 he did Thelma & Louise. And the rest is history. What does it mean? It took Brad Pitt, one of the most famous actors in Hollywood, five years to get his first substantial role. Five. And he's Brad Pitt. You? You're not Brad Pitt. You might think you are, but you're not...I promise. It's going to be a thankless, tedious, trying journey...no matter what your background is.

So that's the reality. Of course, things were different in the 1990s. Everyone was coked up, a studio actually greenlit the hit movie "Stop or my Mom will Shoot", and if you were persistent enough, you were rewarded with at least some kind of look from some studio executive who wanted to discover the "next Brad Pitt."

Now, things are different. Everyone thinks that if they're tenacious, hardworking, and super-duper talented, they can get their foot in the door. But you can't any more. The myth of the "actor discovered at a grocery store" is just that. A myth. Utter fabrication, and Hollywood Legend. Even the supremely untalented (but gorgeous) stars that started very young, like Denise Richards (graduated from a Los Angeles high school in 1989, did Starship Troopers in 1997) or Paul Walker (graduated from a Los Angeles high school in 1991, did Fast and the Furious in 2001) worked at their careers for almost a decade before their "big break."

So if you think you'll be starring in a sitcom, or a big-budget movie within a year of moving to Los Angeles...I hate to break it to you, but you're wrong. You'd have better luck just investing that money you'd be wasting during the move in lottery tickets, then producing your own TV show with the earnings. I mean, sure, there are examples of overnight success...but usually it's an illusion (overnight success actually takes years of thankless work), or it's incredibly short-lived (this is where most child actors reside, unfortunately). But in both cases, it no doubt involves a tremendous amount of hard work (or dumb luck) on the part of the actor.

I personally witnessed two stories of actors who had immediate success when they moved down to Los Angeles, followed by a whole lot of frustration. One is a friend my wife and I met at a casting director workshop named Joane. When she moved here, within two months she'd booked a costar role (industry term for "small television role with limited screen time") on the show Criminal Minds. Two years later? Criminal Minds is still her one only legitimate credit.

Another one is from a friend-of-a-friend named Nastassja. She moved to Los Angeles, and my friend asked me to send an e-mail with advice. Later, our friend informed us, "Looks like she didn't need your advice after all; she booked a TV show." Come to find out that, lo and behold, she'd booked a costar role on Criminal Minds within weeks of arriving (TIP: familiarize yourself with the casting associate of Criminal Minds -- his name is Scott David, and if he's ever teaching a casting workshop near you, you would be well-advised to take it...because he will call you in to audition if he likes you, regardless of whether you have an agent and/or any credits...which makes him very rare). However, a year-and-a-half later, Criminal Minds is still Nastassja's only legitimate TV or film credit.

Whereas my wife Erika, God bless her, worked her tail off for two years...taking casting workshops, getting headshots, sending out mailings, interning, doing theater, doing everything in her power to get into the room. And she did, eventually. She had several auditions for several different shows, but did not book them. Finally, two years after she arrived in Los Angeles, she booked a costar on The Mentalist, for a casting director she'd seen a year prior to that audition.

Every actor has a different path to success. You might get lucky like Joane and Nastassja...or you might finally break through after years of toil like Erika. Or you might not get any auditions at all, years after you arrived in LA. Everyone's different, and you can't expect any kind of success. Hope for it, want it, prepare for it, work for it...but don't expect it.

Now I hope you don't think I'm just being bitter. "Mehrgh, I didn't have success, so you won't either! BEHHHHH!!!" I'm not. I promise. I'm quite happy with the level of success I've achieved. Would I like to achieve more success? Of course. But I'm being realistic, which can easily be mistaken for "pessimistic." There are a whole lot of people who think they can achieve their dreams and goals solely through stubbornness and sheer force of will. There's a whole industry of self-help books that tell you this, over and over and over and over. Don't get me wrong -- all of those things are very helpful, but they will not be enough for you to make it in Los Angeles...because there are literally a million actors who feel the same way, read the same books, and are actually more stubborn than you are. And you'll find out that only a tiny fraction of them actually achieve all of their lofty goals. A tiny, tiny, tiny fraction.

I don't say this to discourage you. Trust me, I'm your biggest fan (because you're reading the words I've written). I just want to honestly prepare you for just a small piece of the professional disappointment, heartache, and frustration that will surely greet you when you land in Los Angeles. You will experience it too. Everyone experiences it, from the hugest failure, to the most surprising success story. And whatever your expectations are, lower them. Even if you think they're very modest, lower them. Sure, go ahead and set lofty goals for yourself; that's fine. But don't expect to meet any of them soon.

But don't take my word for it. Let the Piano Man limit your expectations in his own magically musical way:

You got your passion you got your pride
But don't you know that only fools are satisfied?
Dream on but don't imagine they'll all come true
When will you realize
Vienna waits for you

The Time I was Almost on a Game Show: Part 1

When I moved to L.A., I had a fool-proof plan.

I was going to audition for "every game show" out there. And I was going to get on those game shows, because I think I'm smart (I'm not), and people generally like me (they don't). If I could just get on one...one tiny little show, I'd be set (to the tune of, at least, several thousand dollars).

It was foolproof.

And I got close a couple of times. I auditioned for "Are you Smarter than a 5th Grader." Apparently, I'm not (fifth graders know that "yellow" plus "red" equals "orange," not "purple").

I also tried out for the show "Don't Forget the Lyrics." Apparently, my audition was pretty damn forgettable (they made fun of me for wanting to give most of my money away to my family...jerks).

However, eventually I did appear on a game show.

Well, kinda'.

I'll explain.

A little over a year ago I saw a "audition notice" for a show called "The Singing Bee." I was all, "Hey, I can sing! And I frigging LOVE bees!" So, I sent in my details, and promptly forgot about it.

Lo and behold, a week later, some casting intern wrote back, asking me if I'd be available to come and audition...at beautiful CBS Radford Studios (a place I'd been, probably, about a dozen times already, for background work).

So I show up, sign in, and take a seat in a vast "underground cafeteria-looking room." It was filled with tables and chairs -- in front of each chair was a nice little "release form," and a free pen (free-ish). I took a seat next to a scary-looking young couple who smelled like cigarettes, gasoline fumes, and meth lab.

It was here that I found out that the show was being produced by the Country Music Channel, and that the song-mix was going to be about 60% country, 40% everything else.


Shit.


I hate country music.


Oh well. I'll gave it the ol' "sporting try." I figured, maybe there'd be a lot of Johnny Cash and Dixie Chicks.

Did I say "Dixie Chicks?" I meant Merle Haggard. Yeah.

So, the concept of the show was basically "Don't Forget the Lyrics," except, instead of Wayne Brady, there was some woman from the show Reba. And instead of "good music," there was a bunch of crappy country music.

My task was to take a "lyrics test." This is...exactly what you think it is. A bunch of song lyrics, with "blanks" to be filled in.

I did my level best, and handed over my sheet of paper. There were, maybe, about 90 people in this first room...and I thought that maybe a third of them were "country music fans," so that was the third that was going to be kept...while I'd be given a "better luck next time" by the 20-somethings who seemed to be in charge of casting the show.

True to their word, there was a lot of "good music" mixed in with the country...and a lot of the country songs were things that I'd heard. But there was also a crap-ton of wild guessing.

After everyone had completed the test, we sat around as the the tests were graded. They read off the list of those who'd be advancing to the next round of the interview process (a group of 24).

They started reading the names...and...well, because you're reading this blog entry, you probably guessed that I was one of those 24 names.

Cool.

What now?

Well, I'll tell you.

They split us into three groups (of 8) for a camera test, where we'd get to play a pared-down version of the show. I was in group #1, which was nice, because I was hungry...and going first meant I could get something to eat sooner.

The casting folks took us into another room, lined us up against the wall, and executed each of us with a single bullet to the back of the head.

Wait, whoops. Sorry. Let me try that again. They lined us up against a wall and asked us a series of questions, drawing information from one of the sheets that we filled out earlier. That's right. Sorry, I got confused.

My turn came up.

"Hi, what's your name?"

"Tyler Rhoades."

"And Tyler, do you listen to country music?"

"All the time."

"Who is your favorite country singer?"

Pause.

"Oh, y'know. Johnny Cash. He's incredible."

"It says here that you're a Paula Abdul fan?"

"Yes. I frigging love Paula Abdul." (I don't, but I thought it'd be funny)

"Could we just get you to say that directly into the camera?" Apparently they'd been talking over the part where I said that...so they made me dance like a monkey. I was happy to oblige.

"I...frigging....love....Paula....Abdul."

"What do you like about her?"

Pause.

"I had her poster on the wall," (another lie). "It was the one where she was wearing a kind of leather cap, and..." (I imitated the imaginary poster, to the delight of the interviewers) "Just all the metal and leather. It was a pretty amazing poster."

"And can you tell us one interesting thing about you?"

Pause.

"I've been using Rogaine for the last three years, and my scalp has never been more luscious and full than it is now."

Laughter. Couldn't tell if it was polite or not. But...laughter is laughter, right? Self-deprecation FTW.

Anyways, they worked their way down the line, interviewing those other poor saps, and then the "game show" part of the interview started.

They had a laptop set up, preloaded with songs. They'd play a bit of the song, then stop it. If you knew the lyrics, you'd raise your hand. They'd call on you. Then you'd step forward and "sing the hell out of the missing lyrics," whether you were accurate or not. Because they reminded us, you don't have to be a great singer, just really animated and interesting.

If you were right, they'd ding a bell. If you were wrong, they'd push the button on a buzzer.

The game started. Nobody scored on the first song. Probably just early jitters. I didn't even try.

Next song started:

My heroes had the heart
To lose their lives out on a limb
And all I remember
Is thinking, I want to be like them...

Uh oh. Gnarles Barkley. Crap. I can't understand the guy most of the time, but I like the song. Maybe I can snag this one.

Ever since I was little
Ever since I was little
It looked like fun

And the music stopped.

I raised my hand.

They called on me.

I stepped forward.

I was told to wait until the camera got a close-up of me. Then I was supposed to say my name.

"Tyler Rhoades."

"Okay. Go ahead."

"And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done"

DING!!!

Thank God that happened...because that part of the song always confused me. It doesn't really make sense grammatically. Though, who am I to criticize the great Gnarles?

And luckily for me, this part kinda' played to my strength as a singer -- I could give 'er a little "rock growl," without having to get too high, or sound too pretty. The casting folks looked sufficiently surprised, and impressed.

We continued on. I think I got two or three more songs right (pretty sure one of them was a Phil Collins song). Which, among the group of 8, made me the highest scorer.

Needless to say, I felt pretty good about that second part of the audition. I mean...I think they sensed that I wasn't quite the "country music" fan that I pretended to be...but I have what my wife likes to call "A Surprisingly Good Voice." Which sounds like a back-handed compliment until you get a good look at me...then it makes sense.

So a week or two later, I got a call from one of the casting folks. They wanted me to come in to do a "trial run" of the show for producers, writers, network execs, and the host of the show (that woman from Reba).

I agreed. And thought, "Aw, dammit. I've got to listen to a bunch of country music now, don't I?" So, I logged into CMT.com and forced myself to sit through the worst genre of music ever conceived -- young country.

Ick.

TO BE CONTINUED (and hyper-linked...eventually) IN PART 2!!!

Me. Acting.

Hi, stranger. I'm an actor. Don't believe me? I can't say that I blame you...I have a hard time believing it myself. For instance, did you know that I'm in a cubicle right now? That's right...I should be "on set" somewhere, but instead, I'm typing this out on a computer in a cubicle in a big ol' office building (which is, admittedly, on the Disney Studio lot...but that would just ruin my point, wouldn't it?).

Anyhow, I do act. And, if you want proof, here it is. Me. Acting.

First off, here's my only "national" credit (technically "international"...but Ireland is a nation too, right?). This is from a Sprite commercial I did in 2007. I'm at 0:14, tied to a chair, being menaced by a hair dryer.


Here's another commercial I did in Seattle, for the company MasterPark. I play the dad.


This was a commercial for Powell Electric. I play the "stupid irate guy who went with the wrong electrician."


This was a commercial I did for the Puyallup Fair (for you non-Seattle natives, it's pronounced "pyoo-AL-up). I play the slobbery blubbering crybaby. Sorry that the video resolution is so low, but I'm not sorry for the high quality of the crying sound effects.


I did this scene reading for an IF.net contest. I didn't win. But I got the rare opportunity to seduce me on-camera...so that was nice.


These next three were one of the first things I did in Los Angeles. It was a promotional video for Wizard World, which is a kind of cut-rate Comic-Con.


Here's our 2008 entry in the 48 Hour Film Project. I played a grandmother-loving, MMORPG-playing, potato-salad fanatic named Milt.


Here's my first project with the great Mark Tapio Kines. I don't remember my character's name, but he is, apparently, someone's boyfriend. You see me about a minute in.

I took a turn for some serious, heavy drama in this little self-produced joint called "Stray Doug," produced by our good friend at GadZook films. I play Doug. As for the premise? Well...you'll see...



Finally, here's my second (most recent) short film, written and directed by Mark. I play Ron...who is a bit of a freak.

The Field Guide to Identifying LA Cyclists

About five months ago I bought a $250 bicycle from Target. As I was leaving the Target, I went the wrong direction to get to the freeway on-ramp, and did a u-turn in the middle of the block. Unbeknownst to me, there was a motorcycle cop watching me from a block away, and as I approached his position, he walked into traffic and motioned me to pull over. He gave me a ticket for an illegal u-turn, and I owed the city $256.00.

There's some kind of irony there, but I'm far too tired (drunk) to wring it out. Point is; my car has been dying a pitiful and slow death since it was fatally crippled on the Vegas strip in 2008. And once I got a steady job in Burbank, I decided that...aw...hell with it. I was going to start riding my bike to work as much as possible.

So I did. Why a bicycle? I dunno'. I hadn't really ridden a bike consistently since my paper route in the 9th grade (and my only recent foray into the cycling world was a doomed attempt to circumnavigate Lake Lucerne in 2008). I've never been too psyched about being all "environmental" (though the cut in gas spending is nice). And it's not like I'm a cycling fanatic of any kind. I guess I just thought it'd be a good, fun way to keep in shape while keeping my expenses low.

Now, 5 months after my purchase, I'm pretty damn comfortable on the thing. And, naturally, I consider myself to be an expert on "cycling in Los Angeles."

Because I'm like you. I used to drive everywhere. I still do, when my wife lets me borrow her car. I've been on both sides. I know what it's like to drive next to a dude who's riding in the middle of a lane, or to be cut off by a lunatic weaving in and out of traffic. I get that. I'm not some "foaming at the mouth" cycling advocate who bristles when someone suggests that, maybe, taxes should be spent fixing roads and paying teachers, not building bicycle lanes (for the record, I'd rather see bicycle lanes...but I admit that I'm totally biased now).

But to help the layperson understand that, hey, not all of those dorks riding bicycles are the same, I've broken the riders down into three distinct classifications: Noobs, Fixies, and Enthusiasts.

Now, before I begin, I must give this disclaimer: I love all these folks, partly because I know a few people who fit snugly into these categories quite nicely (looking at you, Evanses). So, I write this entry with nothing but the utmost respect for those good folk, toodling around on two wheels. Keep it up, and I salute you.

First up...


NOOBS


Yes, noob. Cars are scary. Hey...that girl looks familiar...?


Itty bitty wheels, to go with the itty bitty amount of clothing.


Off to school. Or juvy.

A Noob (nōōb) is a newcomer to the bicycling scene. Not to worry -- we all start off as noobs, so hold your head high, you rapscallion.

Scientific Classification: novus cyclus

How to Spot a Noob: if they're doing their job right, you'll never see them. They blend in with society, and stick to low-traffic areas (like parks, beaches, and bike paths). Normally, they'll be wearing totally inappropriate riding attire (suits, sandals, baggy pants, etc.) and either no safety gear at all, or a lone ill-fitting helmet.

Noob Bicycle of Choice: The bicycle will be one of three types; a rental, a fresh-out-of-box department-store brand, or a recently-dusted-off former garage-bound ride. Occasionally it's just a straight-up "stolen bike."

The Noob Riding Style: Two words; sidewalks (I mean one word. Oops.) Noobs love riding on the sidewalk, because they're terrified of getting hit by a car (rightly so). They also love biking trails, because they're totally devoid of those nasty four-wheeled gas-powered demons.

Where to Spot a Noob: Any bike path, park, or sidewalk in the city.

Noob Subcategories: There are two categories of Noob: the "Working Noob" (novus cyclus occupadae), and the "Recreational Noob" (novus cyclus funnus). The Working Noob is an individual that, for whatever reason, can't take a car into work (either because of a "lack of money," or because the "state has taken away their driving privileges"). The Recreational Noob is either trying to get into cycling because it's a "great way to work out," or they're on vacation, and a bike rental seemed like "a pretty cool idea." Either way, they display the same characteristics as other Noobs, except they tend to look like they have "money to spend."

Standard Noob Occupations: child, homeless, slightly overweight technology-industry employee, out-of-towner

Why Drivers Hate Noobs: Noobs are actually hated more by pedestrians than drivers, because (as I mentioned earlier), drivers will probably never get to see an Noob in nature (surface streets). Pedestrians hate Noobs because they take up valuable, exceedingly rare "walking" real estate. But their timidity is part of the reason that drivers hate them -- they blend in so well with all the other city noise that a driver turning left into a parking lot might not actually see the guy with no helmet or head lamp, creeping along the sidewalk in their beaten-down BMX bike. This can be a pretty dangerous situation; especially if the driver (like most drivers in Los Angeles) is really inattentive.

Why Noobs Hate Drivers: That's pretty simple: because they're terrified of cars. You would be too if you were scurrying around on two wheels at 10 miles per hours, while assholes driving SUVs honk at you for no reason, or teenagers throw crap at you as they're speeding past, or sports cars whip by you with their engines gunning. It's pretty damn scary out there.

How Can You Tell if You're a Noob: Are you scared of riding in traffic? If the answer is "yes," then you're a Noob.


Next up...


FIXIES


No brakes!


Aviator sunglasses? Check. Rolled up jeans? Check. Slightly askew baseball hat? Check.


Fixie wolf pack. Beware...

A Fixie (fĭks'ē) is a cycling anarchist. These hard-core cyclists have done away with things that lesser mortals take for granted (like the "ability to coast,"or "brakes"). The name derives from their ride of choice, the "fixed wheel bicycle."

Scientific Classification: hipsterus fixae

How to Spot a Fixie: You won't see them until the last second, as they're cutting in front of you to go screaming into the Trader Joe's parking lot. When you do see them, you'll notice similarities. First off, they'll either have a "cycling cap," or a "scalp full of shaggy hair." Most will have a backpack, tight t-shirt, rolled up jeans (or capris), and slip-on sneakers (or Chuck T's). there are very few variations on this style.

Fixie Bicycle of Choice: Pretty self-explanatory. The only real variation is whether or not the bike has brakes. Because, let's be honest -- brakes are for pussies.

The Fixie Riding Style: Whatever gets the rider from Point A to Point B in the shortest amount of time. This includes weaving between cars, jumping onto a sidewalk, cutting through parking lots, hopping fences, running red lights, going into oncoming traffic, etc. Basically, anything goes. Their approach to road safety is: "I'm not going to stand still long enough for a car to hit me." Occasionally, in big groups, they will get bold and go so far as block intersections so their riding partners can pass without slowing down or stopping. I do not condone this action.

Where to Spot a Fixie: Silver Lake. Or downtown.

Fixie Subcategories: There are two categories of Fixie: the "Bike Messenger Fixie" (hispsterus fixae mercurius), and the "Dirty Hippie Fixie" (hispsterus fixae pogostemin cablin). The Bike Messenger is, by far, the more aggressive Los Angeles cyclist type. They will often display elaborate tattoos, and scars from previous riding accidents. In addition, they are the most fearless cyclist type, showing an "I'm indestructible complex," or often just a simple "death wish." The Dirty Hippie Fixie will have a beard (on males), or un-shaved armpits (on females). They will also smell pretty terrible.

Standard Fixie Occupations: band member, barista, waiter, "currently unemployed"

Why Drivers Hate Fixies: Because they don't play by the rules of the road. And they all seem to be just a little too proud of their "zero emission transportation."

Why Fixies Hate Drivers: Because drivers use a liquid called "gasoline" to power their automobiles, which means they hate the environment, and Fixies (by proxy).

How Can You Tell if You're a Fixie: Quick test -- can your bicycle coast? If the answer is "no," then you're a Fixie.


And finally...


ENTHUSIASTS


I imagine that, in his mind, those bike handles are for shewting lazors...PEW PEW PEW!!!


Sorry Chad, but you're just a perfect example.


Old man + Spandex = Awesome.

An Enthusiast (ěn-thōō'zē-ŭst') just absolutely loves cycling. They are the outspoken ambassadors of the sport, and if they're out, they would want you to know that.

Scientific Classification: cyclus cyclus

How to Spot an Enthusiast: Enthusiasts are hard to miss. During they daytime they're decked out in garishly-colored skin-tight cycling outfits. At night, they're lit up like a Christmas tree with reflectors and lights a'plenty. It's actually harder to "not" spot an enthusiast than it is to spot one.

Enthusiast Bicycle of Choice: Nothing under $1,000. The bike should weigh less than 20 pounds. And the shoes must clip into the pedals.

The Enthusiast Riding Style: When you hear an enthusiast tell you to "share the road," what they really mean is: "give me the road." Enthusiasts regularly ride in packs of two or more, and drive the same way as any car would, if cars were also allowed on to bike paths.

Where to Spot an Enthusiast: Any street or bike path. Any time. Anywhere.

Enthusiast Subcategories: There are two categories of Enthusiast. "The Racer" (cyclus cyclus racidae), and "The Trainer" (cyclus cyclus cyclus). The distinction is fairly simple -- the Racer is an Enthusiast who regularly enters "racing competitions." The Trainer is an Enthusiast who wants to appear as though they regularly enter "racing competitions."

Standard Enthusiast Occupations: manager, executive, analyst, assistant, processor, professor, adjuster, "white-collar-employed-individual"

Why Drivers Hate Enthusiasts: Because Enthusiasts seem to be under the impression that they are cars. It's not unusual to see a group of enthusiasts occupying an entire lane of traffic, going about 20 miles per hour...which is pretty good for a bicycle, but really irritating for an automobile, who just wants to pass them without pissing them off or accidentally hitting one. Also, Enthusiasts will happily slap car roofs, yell into open windows, and tap on closed windows of cars that have "done them wrong," because they feel it's their duty to inform the masses of drivers out there that, hey, cyclists are cars too. Understandably, this rubs drivers the wrong way.

Why Enthusiasts Hate Drivers: Because they won't share the damn road! In fact, it's scientifically proven that, if everyone got around on a bicycle, the world would be a better place.

How Can You Tell if You're an Enthusiast: Two questions. A) Do you own any Spandex? B) Can you name more than one person who raced in the Tour de France last year? If the answer was "yes" to both question, then you are an Enthusiast.



"So," you might be asking, "Tyler; what are you?"


AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Well, I know it's a total cop-out, but I consider myself to be a bit of a hybrid. I dress like a Noob (because I'm usually on my way to or from work), and I own a "Noob-ish" Target-bought bicycle. But my riding style is more like a Fixie (getting from Point A to Point B as quickly as possible). But I have an Enthusiast's occupation (paralegal).

Honestly, I'm probably more of a Noob than anything else...especially when you consider the fact that I'm writing a blog entry about other cyclists...which is such a noobish thing to do. Ah, me.