9 bad L.A. habits (and 9 better ones to replace them with)

A 4.0-plus quake hits and you suddenly remember earthquakes are a thing, you worry about the Big One for a day or two and you say, “I should really put together an earthquake kit.” But then, you know, you don’t, and you forget all about it until a 4.0-plus quake hits and…

The more prepared alternative: Put one together, obviously—and just do it now. You could search your retailer of choice for a preassembled kit, but FEMA, the CDC and the Red Cross all have suggestions if you want to put one together yourself. Water, a radio, a light, a first aid kit and some cash are all common suggestions, and we’d also add some pet food if you have a furry friend at home. But speaking of food, if you already have your bug-out bag ready, just remember to restock your supply every so often; even those gross dehydrated MREs go bad eventually.

We’ve been there, too, with seemingly the rest of L.A.: You’re hungry, you’re in a rush and you don’t feel like leaving your car, so the In-N-Out drive-thru is just calling your name. But let’s be real: Downing a stack of beef—easily the food with the biggest carbon footprint—on the regular isn’t really doing anyone a favor.

A less beefy alternative: We’re not saying to drop In-N-Out entirely, but give meatless burgers a go. Beef alternatives, mostly from Impossible and Beyond, abound in L.A., and while they might not be much healthier for you, they’re certainly healthier for the planet. Our fave, if you’re looking for a fast-food–style flat-top–cooked patty? Monty’s Good Burger, which boasts an added bonus that everything on the menu—even the shakes—is plant-based.

Maybe it’s raining, maybe you’re tired or maybe you just don’t want to waste time so you take a three-minute drive to pick up your dinner—and then spend twice as long looking for parking.

A less gas-guzzling alternative: Cherish the fact that the average daily high rarely dips below 70 degrees and get outside and walk. Or for slightly longer treks, ride a bike; the county maintains a map of all sorts of bikeways, and Metro operates a bikeshare system if you need a set of wheels.

The L.A. County Department of Parks and Recreation estimates that there are more than 2,000 miles of public trails in the county. Yet a single three-mile loop oversaturated with dog pop and sweaty bods seems to be the default hike for much of the city.

A less crowded alternative: Literally any other trail. It’s not that we have anything against Runyon: The views are spectacular and plenty of other trails get crowded, too. But in our opinion, the best trail is an empty trail.

With 4,000 square miles in the county, we’ve always managed to find excuses to stay within our familiar few miles. In the Before Time it was traffic. More recently it’s, well, everything. 

A border-expanding alternative: We know that options outside of your home are pretty limited right now, and running up miles unncessarily is a bit reckless. But consider extending your food pickup radius just a little bit. Located in Los Feliz? Drive over the hill and try something from the Valley. Live in Santa Monica? Take a coastal cruise and grab a bite in Malibu.

People outside of SoCal seem to think we’re all sun-fried beach bums, but afternoons spent on the sand are few and far between for many Angelenos. Between the traffic, parking, crowds and, for those of us inland, plain hassle of driving there, taking a trip to the beach rarely crosses our mind.

The less stressful alternative: Go in the winter or around sunset, and skip the touristy spots. If you’re in search of fresh ocean air and not necessarily a scorching tan, we’ve found winter an ideal time to hit the beach; having to wear an extra sweatshirt is a small tradeoff for way lower crowd levels. Throughout the rest of the year, plan a trip in the late afternoon—you’ll be driving in as everyone else is driving out—and consider putting in the extra miles to head to a somewhat more remote beach. If seeing the sunset from El Matador doesn’t convince you to go to the beach more, we don’t know what will.

Whether induced by panic, an overestimation of your appetite or because you’re single and thought you might be cooking dinner for two but this city is lousy for dating, you bought a bunch of cans of beans before realizing that, actually, you don’t even particularly care for them.

The altruistic alternative: Communal pantries and fridges have sprouted up across L.A. in the past year, and you can drop off unopened food that Angelenos in need can pick up for free. 

A few dollars in fees here and there don’t seem like much, but by the end of the month you realize you’ve dropped dozens of unncessary dollars on your delivery app of choice. You’d cook more but, well, who really wants to go to the grocery store right now?

The farm-fresher alternative: Hello, CSA boxes. Community-supported agriculture systems let you buy local produce, pantry items, meat, seafood and even wine straight from the farm. And best of all: It’s already boxed up and ready to go for either delivery or pickup.

The better alternative: Just signal.