[91 of 100] 818 for Life
You can tell a lot about a person by their area code. In Los Angeles, 310 means you live Mid-City or on the Westside. You’re likely a trendy person who enjoys jogging along the beach or at least posting photos to Instagram that make it seem like you enjoy jogging along the beach. 213 means you’re on the East Side. You like dive bars and keeping it real. None of that plastic, fake bullshit for you. 626 means you’re from the San Gabriel Valley, which is its own interesting cauldron of Asian Immigrants and old money. Me? I’m 818, a Valley Boy through and through.
A lot of people in Los Angeles call the San Fernando Valley a bland, suburban wasteland with no redeeming qualities. I take great offense to that. Yeah, the Valley is definitely suburban, but it’s got its charm. Just ask PT Anderson, who’s set several movies in the Valley. Or ask John Connor, who lived in the Valley before going on to lead the human resistance against the Terminators. Heck, ask Jack Nicholson’s character in Chinatown. I don’t know what else to say except. . . THE VALLEY IS COOL AND THERE’S A LOT GOING ON!!!!
(Okay, Ronan. Calm yourself. Take a deep breath like they taught you. In. Out. In. Out.)
I bring up area codes because I’ve had my 818 number for over ten years. In that decade, it’s traveled with me to San Francisco (415), the South Bay (310), Orange County (714 and 949), then Long Beach (562). The whole time, it was a poignant reminder of where I came from and who I was. But more than that, it was a beacon drawing me closer and closer back home. After a decade away, I finally made it back to the 818, and I don’t plan on leaving again.
