You pay $66.75 for your fare. An hour and a half later, you board the train. The journey passes without incident. You spend most of the six-day trip gazing out the rattling train window as landscape after landscape passes you by. During the second day, a neighboring passenger strikes up a conversation, and you spend the afternoon and evening hours listening as your new travel companion regales you with tales of New York’s bustling theater scene. On day three, you change trains and settle back into your window-side reverie, undisturbed.

Finally, on the afternoon of the sixth day, the train comes to a halt, and the conductor announces your arrival at Arcade Station, Los Angeles. You step onto the shaded platform with your suitcase in one hand and Celia’s latest postcard in the other. The air is warm despite the shade, but you feel a sudden breeze snaking its way through the platform, cooling the tired passengers as it rushes by.

You weave through the waves of travelers surrounding the platform and make your way inside the station. You pause for a few minutes to study the map of Los Angeles tacked to the station wall before walking to the far side of the building, where sunlight streams through an open door leading to the street beyond. You step through the door and into the light, where the leafy palms of a towering tree wave down at you, welcoming you to California.

After letting your eyes adjust to the sudden sunshine, you . . .