Last summer, I flew to L.A. to visit my cousin Natalie, who had just moved there the summer before. It was both my first time flying completely alone (not ideal for a nervous flyer, but traveling for pleasure is always worth it) and my first time in the City of Angels. The wonderfully frustrating thing about L.A. is that, just like with New York City, you can run around nonstop to fit in as many sights, bars, restaurants and activities as you can in a week, and still leave feeling bummed that you didn't get to see a bunch of other things on your list. It's what makes living in big cities so appealing, and makes leaving one so bittersweet.
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