Arriving in Los Angeles wasn’t just about stepping off a plane—it was about new beginnings, uncharted territory, and the thrill of the unknown. In Chapter 7 of Should I Stay or Should I Go?, Efraín Ochoa touches down in California, excitement and uncertainty swirling as he navigates his first days in a new city. From securing a car sight unseen to a spontaneous night out that would leave a lasting impact, the chapter captures the whirlwind of transition—new friendships, unexpected adventures, and the realization that this journey was only just beginning.

Disclaimer

• All characters and events in this chapter —even those based on real people—are entirely fictional.
• The following chapters contain coarse language and situations and due to its content it should not be read by anyone.

Chapter 7 “Arriving to a new city”

The day of reckoning had finally arrived. I found myself on a Volaris flight to Los Angeles, Alex, a Mexican classmate seated beside me. Excitement buzzed between us, tempered only by the knowledge that our graduate dormitory apartment wouldn’t be ready until the following day.

Anticipating this, I had booked a nearby hotel—a temporary sanctuary from the chaos of moving. A friend kindly picked us up from LAX and drove us to Northridge, where we collected the car I had purchased sight unseen. The return drive to the hotel blurred together in a haze of excitement and fatigue, the anticipation of our new adventure mounting with every mile.

The next morning dawned bright and early. We set off for UCLA, hearts racing as we approached the campus. Upon arrival at the dormitory, we were met with scenes of frantic activity—students and their families scurrying about, hauling boxes while trying to make sense of their new surroundings.

My first order of business was to find a mattress, the bare minimum for transforming an empty apartment into something that resembled a home. Without it, the space felt hollow, but once it was in place, a small sense of comfort and stability took root—though I couldn’t shake the feeling it might be fleeting.

 My roommate, a Japanese urban planning student, had led a relatively sheltered life when it came to concerts. I took it upon myself to change that. When the Pixies announced a show in LA, I invited him along, along with a couple of friends from Mexico and the NBA.

The concert was a resounding success.

Afterward, the night took an unexpected turn. A friend working at MTV secured us invites to a party at the Ukrainian Cultural Center in LA. We went without hesitation, and the experience was surreal—one of those quintessentially LA nights that felt larger than life.

The most emotional moment came the next morning. My roommate approached me, his gratitude was evident.

“Thank you for taking me,” he said, his sincerity striking. “It was one of the best nights of my life.”

His words stayed with me. It reminded me how simple gestures—an invitation to a concert—could leave lasting impressions. From that day on, I made a point of including him in future events.

We attended a Yoko Ono performance, sat together at Lakers games, and even dreamed of catching the NBA Finals when the Lakers advanced to the championship. Unfortunately, ticket prices soared beyond reason—higher even than the All-Star Game. To this day, seeing the Lakers in the Finals remains on my bucket list.

Next on the agenda was the Vegas orientation trip.

Excitement coursed through our group as we made our way to Nevada. We came from all corners of the globe, united by the desire to bond and share the adventure. This wasn’t just a school trip—it was a rite of passage, the start of something unforgettable and everlasting.

The weekend unfolded in a predictable yet satisfying blur of poolside drinks and club outings. I also took the opportunity to gather with my Mexican friends, treating the trip as a personal farewell. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this marked the end of an era and the start of a new one.

Upon returning from Vegas, the social calendar continued.

The first official gathering with classmates took place at a bar in Santa Monica. I arrived early, eager to make connections and break the initial awkwardness.

At first, I found myself chatting with a couple of American students, bonding over shared nerves and the anticipation of what lay ahead. As more people trickled in, the energy in the room shifted—each new arrival carrying their own story, shaped by unique cultures and experiences.

Introductions started hesitantly, with some reluctant to reveal much beyond their names. But as the drinks flowed and the night progressed, barriers fell away. The more we spoke, the clearer it became that beneath our differences lay a common thread—our drive to succeed and passion for learning.

By the end of the night, the room no longer felt filled with strangers. Laughter and easy conversation echoed throughout the bar as connections began to take shape.

We left as something more than classmates. In those few hours, we began to forge friendships and bonds that I knew would last long after the MBA journey ended.