The Brief

If you’re reading this, there’s a good chance you live in Los Angeles. But do you live in the city of L.A.? An unincorporated area of L.A. County? Or do you actually live in another city entirely, such as Beverly Hills, West Hollywood, Inglewood or Culver City?

There are 88 cities in the county, but not every patch of land under the L.A. County umbrella is a city. Some places have their own police forces. Some don’t. Some have their own fire departments. Some don’t.

Why are things like this? We've been looking into it, and it seems one of the answers is — drum roll — water.

The power of water

More than a hundred years ago, the city of L.A. was already one of the ‘it’ places for development and population growth. Sunshine, open land and a manufacturing boom ruled. Between 1890 and 1900 alone, the city of L.A. more than doubled in size to over 100,000. And it kept doubling in the decades after.

There were other cities around. The city of L.A. was the forerunner, of course, incorporated in 1850, and cities like Pasadena (1886), Santa Monica (1886) and Long Beach (1897) came after. By 1901, there were 12 cities in L.A. County.

But with more people in L.A. came the need for more water. The L.A. River was a reasonably viable water source for the city until about 1900, according to William Deverell, the director of the Huntington-USC Institute on California and the West. To truly become a metropolis, though, city leaders had to get planning.

Civil engineer William Mulholland (yep, that Mulholland), who led the municipal water bureau, was sent to evaluate new and bigger water sources, which is how he came up with the idea of an aqueduct running from Owens Valley in eastern California to Los Angeles.

To do that, L.A. had to secure the rights to the Owens River water, which was a choice that was both fought against and supported. This siphoning, which cost millions of dollars and took years to implement, drained Owens Valley of a vital resource and caused lasting economic and environmental problems.

Panoramic view of the Los Angeles Aqueduct in the Owens Valley near Alabama Hills on November 24, 1928.

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Herald Examiner Collection/Los Angeles Public Library

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The aqueduct exists to this day.

“[It] basically sticks a straw into the Owens River up in the Owens Valley and draws that water 250 miles down to L.A. by gravity,” Deverell said.

But when the aqueduct opened in 1913, it ended not in L.A. but in San Fernando, a fair distance away.

So to get that water to L.A. in an easier way, two years later city leaders annexed most of the San Fernando Valley. This annexation put the aqueduct in incorporated L.A. city boundaries.

Annexation and incorporation

This meant if you lived in the city of L.A, you had access to this water. If you didn’t — well, that was unfortunate. No Owens water for you! And because of a legal provision, officials were not allowed to sell the newly available resource to places outside the city.

So, smaller incorporated cities and unincorporated areas nearby clamored to be annexed by L.A., who were, among many reasons, infatuated by the potential of abundant water access.

The city expanded to include the beach areas, like Venice in 1925, and other areas like Eagle Rock and Hyde Park in 1923. The rush to annex made it seem like the city of L.A. would eventually engulf the entire county.

But that came to an end in 1928, when Mullholland’s St. Francis Dam burst, killing nearly 500 people. Annexations pretty much stalled.

“It raised the question in a number of people’s minds whether the city had engineering competence and capability to manage such a large project — in spite of the fact that they built the Owens River Aqueduct,” said Samuel Nelson, a general manager and chief engineer of LADWP, in the historical interview Water for Los Angeles. 

People examine the damaged road and washed away railroad track, caused by excess water flowing down the Santa Clara River after the failure of the St. Francis Dam in 1928.

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Security Pacific National Bank Collection/Los Angeles Public Library

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Surrounding cities, including Burbank, Pasadena and L.A., formed the Metropolitan Water District, which jointly funded the Colorado River aqueduct.

From then on, being absorbed by the city of L.A. was out of favor. Instead, areas looked instead to become incorporated cities.

Why become a city in the first place?

It wasn't easy. They had to secure support, which generally meant getting authorization from the county and winning a community vote. They also had to show that the city could stay afloat with taxes and budgets, and provide services like police and fire — a big undertaking.

But if places didn’t become cities, they’d stay under the management of L.A. County, governed by the five-member Board of Supervisors, which would mean a small group of elected leaders making decisions for a vast number of diverse areas stretching from the coast to the Eastside.

And that was problematic as many people didn’t want Big Brother to tell them what to do, according to Tom Sitton, retired curator at the L.A. County Museum of Natural History.

“Usually what you have is a group, an organization or just a group of people who… don’t want the county or anybody else having all of the answers for changing things,” he said.

The Lakewood plan

In 1954, when Lakewood incorporated as an independent municipality, it came up with a different plan, which would be a landmark change. Instead of creating vital services from scratch, it would contract them from county agencies. Since then, 41 other cities have followed that model, including Cerritos, Downey, and South El Monte.

A Lakewood plan city, for example, likely doesn’t have its own police department. Instead, it gets that service from the L.A. County Sheriff’s Department. The same goes for road maintenance and libraries — services contracted from the county.

The city of Lakewood’s website describes how the plan helped communities stop having to pick between resources and local control: It “began with the conviction that unincorporated communities didn’t have to choose between annexation by a big city or building a municipal infrastructure from scratch.”

And it keeps evolving. L.A. County’s newest city is Calabasas, incorporated in 1991. It also follows the Lakewood plan.

So if you ever wondered why you might see LAPD, the Sheriff's Department and, say, Santa Monica PD as you drive around the county — well, now you know.

Los Angeles officials are considering a pair of Airbnb-backed proposals that would temporarily loosen city regulations on short-term rentals and allow the company to pre-pay a portion of the lodging taxes it collects from tourists.

If approved by the City Council, the first proposal would allow Airbnb hosts to rent second homes and investment properties on the platform through 2028 — something the home-sharing giant has long sought, but the city of L.A. has prohibited since 2018.

The second proposal would involve Airbnb paying some portion of the transient occupancy tax it collects from tourists to the city of Los Angeles ahead of time to assist with the city’s budget troubles. That could generate tens of millions of dollars more for the city per year, according to the company.

"Airbnb is a committed partner to Los Angeles and its long-term prosperity with not just words, but with action,” said Justin Wesson, Airbnb’s senior public policy manager in California. “That’s why we have offered to provide tax revenue we already collect on behalf of hosts up front to help fund essential city programs millions of Angelenos rely on."

Both plans appeared in Mayor Karen Bass’ budget proposal for the next fiscal year, which starts in July, and were first reported by L.A. Material. Both were initially suggested by Airbnb, according to the company.

Bass’ budget proposal instructs the city’s Planning Department to develop a limited vacation rental program that would sunset by Dec. 31, 2028.

It also instructs city staff to report back with recommendations “to allow the pre-payment of transient occupancy tax in advance of the 2028 Olympics from any payer that wishes to assist the City in accelerating critical infrastructure projects.”

Councilmember Monica Rodriguez, who opposes expanding short-term rentals, told LAist she has concerns about the prepayment plan.

"I don’t know anyone in the country running to prepay their taxes, especially any corporations, and it begs the question as to why,” Rodriguez said.

Pre-paying TOT

Airbnb has discussed this pre-payment concept with city officials, but has not settled on specific terms, a company spokesperson confirmed to LAist.

The company told LAist it would work with city officials to come up with the amounts and timelines for any potential prepayment after the City Council approves the mayor’s budget.

Bass’ office did not respond Thursday to questions about the proposal.

In the current budget year, the city will collect about $297 million in transient occupancy taxes, including $34.5 million from short-term rentals and $262.9 million from hotels, according to the L.A. city controller’s revenue forecast.

The Hotel Association of Los Angeles told LAist that hotels, the main driver of bed-tax revenues, have not been part of any conversations about possible pre-payment.

“City leaders have not engaged hotels on the concept of pre-paying transient occupancy taxes in advance of the 2028 Olympics,” Jackie Filla, the association’s president and CEO, said in a statement. “We learned of this issue for the first time while reviewing the proposed budget.”

The Mayor’s Office first briefed members of L.A. City Council’s Budget and Finance Committee shortly before the Monday release of Bass’ proposed budget, according to one member’s office.

According to the mayor’s budget proposal, the prepaid tax revenue would be used for curb and sidewalk repairs, park maintenance, street cleanliness and tree trimming.

Airbnb entered into an agreement with the city of L.A. in August 2016 allowing the company to collect and pay the transient occupancy tax on behalf of Airbnb hosts. The company said it has collected and paid more than $370 million in lodging tax to the city of Los Angeles between 2016 and the end of last year, for an average of about $39 million annually.

Before L.A.’s 2018 law restricting Airbnbs, there were nearly 29,000 estimated active short-term rental listings in the city of L.A., according to the city’s Planning Department. L.A.’s transient occupancy tax revenue totaled nearly $319 million in the 2018 budget year, according to the city administrative officer. That total includes tax remitted by hotels and it’s unclear how much was generated from short-term rentals specifically.

Last budget year, there were fewer than 5,000 homes officially listed on short-term rental platforms, according to the city. L.A. collected $305.8 million in transient occupancy tax. About $272 million of that came from hotels. The other roughly $33 million came from short-term rentals, according to the city controller.

Bass’ budget proposal projects $313.5 million in transient occupancy tax in 2026-2027.

More Airbnbs? 

Airbnb has long sought to change L.A.’s short-term rental rules to allow more homes on the platform.

Last year, Airbnb launched a public campaign for its "Vacation Rental Revenue Plan.” The company argues that increasing L.A.’s short-term rentals will generate more tax revenue from tourists and expand housing options during the Olympics.

L.A.’s current short-term rental regulations allow homeowners to list only their primary residences on platforms like Airbnb. It also prohibits housing units protected by the city’s rent stabilization ordinance from being listed.

But existing Airbnb laws are rarely enforced. There were 7,500 properties illegally operating as short-term rentals in Los Angeles, according to the city’s Housing Department’s 2024 estimates. Since 2021, L.A. has issued an average of 125 home-sharing citations per year across all enforcement departments, according to city planning records.

Airbnb estimates that lifting restrictions on second homes could generate more than $100 million annually for the city in additional revenue from transient occupancy tax and other tourist spending. The company did not provide a further breakdown of those projections or indicate the exact number of new listings it expects would follow.

There are currently about 5,500 units already operating on home-sharing platforms under the existing rules and thousands more operating illegally, according to city officials.

On April 2, the city of L.A.’s Planning Department recommended in a report that the city reject the Airbnb proposal to allow second homes, finding it was unlikely to generate much revenue and likely to remove long-term housing from the market.

On April 15, the department released another report, reversing its earlier position. It clarified that the previous report had only only analyzed a permanent program but that a temporary program tied to the Olympics was worth considering.

Officials react

Councilmember Bob Blumenfield, part of the Budget and Finance Committee, said Airbnb has been talking to members about vacation rentals for years. He said he opposes the company’s desired changes and wants to see more enforcement of illegal Airbnbs.

“I didn't support vacation rentals when it was before us years ago because I feared it would take long-term housing units off the market,” Blumenfield said. “I'm still concerned about it. I still haven't seen a proposal that I would support.”

Councilmember Tim McOsker, also on the budget committee, did not say whether he would support the Airbnb-backed proposals.

A spokesperson from his office said in a statement that Osker “will evaluate the entirety of the proposal, including the pre-payment mechanism, within the budget hearings process before taking a position.”

Airbnb’s political opponents tied to the hotel industry, including hotel workers’ union UNITE HERE Local 11, have consistently fought against efforts to expand Airbnbs. Now they’re also crying foul on the company’s pre-payment plan.

“ This is just a ruse to to build a larger short-term market, which means less housing for Angelenos in our city,” said Kurt Petersen, co-president of UNITE HERE Local 11.

Noah Suarez-Sikes is an organizer with Better Neighbors L.A., a group advocating for stronger limits on short-term rentals. He said even if the change is temporary, renters will be permanently displaced.

“ I would hope that council would see that this is a Trojan horse and take it out before it starts harming working class people,” he said.

Airbnb is the third biggest spender in Los Angeles city elections so far this year, after the LAPD police officers union and hotel workers union UNITE HERE Local 11.

A committee funded entirely by Airbnb spent nearly $300,000 in support of Jose Ugarte, a former aide to Councilmember Curren Price who is now one of six candidates running to replace him in District 9.

The committee paid $298,832.00 to a company called Street Level Strategy LLC for “canvassing, consulting, doorhangers, data, and office supplies,” according to records filed with the city.

"Across the country and at all levels of government, we back causes and candidates that champion home sharing and tourism and Los Angeles is a top focus for us," Justin Wesson of Airbnb told LAist.

Meanwhile, a committee sponsored by UNITE HERE Local 11 has raised $515,000 and spent more than $440,000 in independent expenditures opposing Councilmember Traci Park and supporting her challenger, civil rights attorney Faizah Malik, in District 11.

“ We want to support candidates who want to raise wages so that people can live in Los Angeles and lower rents so that people can afford to live in Los Angeles,” said UNITE HERE 11 co-president Kurt Peterson.

The City Council will begin budget hearings Friday. The panelis expected to hold its first vote on the budget May 21.

Meta will lay off 10% of its staff in May, according to an internal memo which was published by Bloomberg. A Meta spokesperson confirmed the report's accuracy to NPR.

The layoffs will take place on May 20 and affect some 8,000 workers. Meta will also not hire for 6,000 open roles that it had intended to fill.

In the memo, Meta's chief people officer Janelle Gale wrote, "We're doing this as part of our continued effort to run the company more efficiently and to allow us to offset the other investments we're making. This is not an easy tradeoff and it will mean letting go of people who have made meaningful contributions to Meta during their time here."

Calling it "unwelcome news" that "puts everyone in an uneasy state," Gale wrote, confirming the layoffs to employees now "is the best path forward, given the circumstances."

Meta and other big players in artificial intelligence have been spending vast amounts of money to build data centers and try to win the AI race — one in which Meta lags behind competitors such as OpenAI, Anthropic and Google.

In January, Meta forecast record capital expenditures this year of up to $135 billion — almost double what it spent last year.

The pivot to AI comes at a time when Meta seems to be backing away from its previous focus on its virtual reality Metaverse products. The Metaverse was once key to CEO Mark Zuckerberg's vision for the company's future — so fundamental that in 2021, he changed the name of the company from Facebook to Meta.

In a separate round of layoffs this month, the company announced that it was laying off some 700 people as part of its efforts in "right-sizing" its investment in Reality Labs, the division that runs the company's Metaverse products.

Meta is also facing a string of costly legal challenges. The company lost two pivotal court cases earlier this year: a New Mexico jury found that Meta failed to protect young users from child sexual exploitation. Penalties in that case could reach $375 million.

Meanwhile, a jury in Los Angeles found the company — along with Google — liable for the mental health problems experienced by a woman who used social media as a small child, awarding her $6 million.

In the Los Angeles case, the woman's lawyers argued that Meta's products were designed to be addictive to kids.

Meta has said it will appeal both lawsuits.

The company faces similar lawsuits, including one brought by several school districts against Meta and several other social media companies, which will be heard in Oakland, California this year.
Copyright 2026 NPR

The first thing you notice when you unwrap the fried chicken sandwich from Hokkaido Fried Chicken is the craggy crust, almost geological in its texture — the kind of fry that makes you want to reconsider every other fried chicken sandwich you've ever eaten.

The craggy, crunchy Hokkaido fried chicken

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Courtesy Hokkaido Fried Chicken

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The chicken itself — shattering on the outside, improbably juicy within — holds its own against everything surrounding it. With the miso vinaigrette slaw, the pickled cucumbers, the chili truffle shoyu sauce, it’s a revelation — and for me, the best fried chicken sandwich I’ve ever eaten in L.A., hands down.

Hokkaido by way of Arcata

Hokkaido Fried Chicken, which is online-only, has been running since January out of an unassuming ghost kitchen on the edge of Koreatown. It’s the brainchild of Ronuk Patel, an Indian American who grew up outside Chicago, fell in love with snowboarding, and relocated to Arcata, a Northern California town about three hours from the Oregon border.

Ronuk Patel, chef and owner of Hokkaido Fried Chicken and Hokkaido Soup Curry, at his ghost kitchen on Olympic Blvd on the outskirts of Koreatown.

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Courtesy Hokkaido Fried Chicken

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There, he built a career as a cannabis farmer — and began making regular snowboarding pilgrimages to Hokkaido, Japan's northernmost island, chasing powder and, eventually, some of the most interesting food he'd ever eaten. It was on that first trip to Sapporo, over a decade ago, that he met Gory, a Japanese chef who would become a close friend and, eventually, his collaborator.

In 2024, Patel sponsored Gory's visa and brought him to Arcata to help launch Susukino Ramen Bar — named after the Sapporo neighborhood where they first met. It was there, with Gory's family zangi recipe on the menu as an appetizer, that the seed of Hokkaido Fried Chicken was planted.

What is zangi?

Most Angelenos with a passing familiarity with Japanese cuisine know karaage — the lightly battered, juicy fried chicken that has become a fixture on Japanese menus across the city. Zangi is Hokkaido's answer to that tradition, and it plays in a different register entirely. Where karaage tends toward a lighter touch — a brief marinade, a delicate crust — zangi goes deeper. The marinade is heavier on soy and sake, more aggressive with garlic and ginger and almost always incorporates a fruit component that varies by chef.

Patel and Gory pushed it further still, applying a dry batter separately after marinating — rather than mixing everything together in the traditional wet batter method — for a crust that fries up dramatically craggier and crunchier. The result is chicken that is deeply seasoned all the way through and improbably juicy — both of which hit you immediately on first bite.

The HFC sandwich up close — the craggy, dry-battered crust is the first thing you notice, a direct result of Patel and chef Gory's decision to depart from zangi's traditional wet batter.

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Gab Chabrán

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LAist

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Inside the sandwich

Bite into the sandwich ($10.99), and you immediately understand why it took four or five months to get here. Every detail is thought through. The miso slaw cuts the richness of the chicken without competing with it. The cucumbers, pickled in a brine riffed from Patel's own recipe, add brightness and snap. The chili truffle shoyu sauce, born from mixing his ramen shop's house chili with a white shoyu-truffle product he'd been experimenting with, ties it together with a depth that sneaks up on you.

Just getting started

Fried chicken sandwiches aren't all that's on the menu at HFC. Nuggets and tenders round out the chicken offerings, along with the fries, which are definitely worth ordering — particularly the loaded pork belly fries ($10), topped with chashu pork belly, spicy truffle aioli and green onions over crispy shoestring fries, and the furikake fries ($5), whose umami-rich seasoning makes them a natural companion to the chicken.

Patel has also launched a second concept out of the same ghost kitchen: Hokkaido Soup Curry, a Japanese dish that combines aromatic curry spices with a lighter, broth-based preparation rooted in the same Hokkaido culinary tradition that inspired HFC — and one that hints at the Japanese-Indian fusion menu Patel says he's only just beginning to develop.

For Patel, none of it feels calculated — and that, perhaps, is the point.

"It just happened really organically, naturally, just like us being in the kitchen, having a good time."

This story first appeared on The LA Local.

When I first started, I went alone. I couldn’t convince any of my friends to commit to riding 20 miles on a bicycle on a Friday night through a city known for its car culture. It didn’t help that I told them the bike ride would start in Koreatown, among the most densely populated neighborhoods in the whole country. 

I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. 

What I discovered is that Los Angeles Critical Mass (LACM) is the largest community bicycle ride in the United States, drawing almost 4,000 riders each month, according to the group’s own records. 

The modern Critical Mass movement began in San Francisco in 1992 as a grassroots effort to reclaim the streets has since grown into a global movement, with Los Angeles now hosting one of its largest rides.

LACM Vice President JoJo Valdez, told The LA Local that the event is ”a living example of what safer, more human-centered streets could look like” in the City of Angels. 

Critical Mass Los Angeles riders roll through Koreatown, January 2026.

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Courtesy of LACM

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The ride takes place on the last Friday of every month on the corner of Western and Wilshire across from The Wiltern. Routes change monthly, turning each ride into a moving tour of the city. Some rides head west toward Marina del Rey, others east toward Mariachi Plaza, passing through neighborhoods that rarely feel connected outside of car travel.

As the ride moves through different neighborhoods, it often brings energy — and customers — to local businesses along the route as riders stop for food, drinks and supplies throughout the evening.

Valdez said, “Cyclists, skaters and riders moving together make the demand for alternative transportation impossible to ignore.”

A cyclist takes off on a monthly Critical Mass ride in Koreatown on Nov 8th, 2025.

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Steve Saldivar

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The LA Local

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L.A. is the last place you’d expect a mass cycling movement to take hold. That’s probably why it did. In a city defined by gridlock, LACM offers something rare — movement through neighborhoods at a human pace.

I’ve experienced it firsthand. 

For me, LACM became an alternative to the typical night out. Instead of bars or clubs, it became a way to decompress, stay active and explore the city differently.

Over time, I built connections that turned into a consistent group of six friends I now ride with each month. I’ve even brought my girlfriend along, and it’s become one of our favorite end-of-month traditions.

Critical Mass Los Angeles riders roll through Los Angeles.

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Courtesy of LACM

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How a ride typically goes

The LA chapter of Critical Mass is led by LACM President Lisa Lundie and Valdez, who both began as volunteers before stepping into leadership roles for the Los Angeles chapter. According to the organization, their focus includes accessibility, community and mental wellness accessibility, community and mental wellness — and those values show up throughout the ride itself.

Valdez said that what people see — the crowds and energy — is only part of the story. There is real coordination and planning to keep the ride safe and organized as it moves through the city.

“We look out for each other. We ride together. If you’re alone, you won’t stay that way for long,” he said.

Critical Mass Los Angeles riders roll through Hollywood Boulevard, December of 2024.

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Courtesy of LACM

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Ride marshals help guide traffic, support newer riders and keep the group together, while a lead vehicle sets the pace and support riders follow behind to ensure no one is left behind. The result is a ride that may feel overwhelming at first, given the number of people, but quickly settles into a relaxed rhythm.

With everyone following the lead car and built-in stops to regroup, it becomes approachable for first-timers and more communal than a typical solo ride through Los Angeles.

As the ride unfolds, speakers carried by riders create a shifting soundtrack — hip-hop, EDM, reggae and Latin music blending with each neighborhood the group passes through, turning the streets into a moving reflection of L.A.’s culture.

Critical Mass Los Angeles riders roll through Koreatown.

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Louie Martinez

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The LA Local

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Some rides carry deeper meaning, including moments of silence for cyclists lost to traffic accidents and ongoing calls for safer streets.

This month’s ride, taking place on April 24 at 7:00 p.m., will celebrate West Coast hip-hop legend DJ Battlecat, who will perform from the lead vehicle, transforming the ride into a rolling party on wheels.

The distance might sound intimidating, but the pace is manageable, with plenty of breaks and lots of potential new friends.  Whether you come with a group or show up solo, Critical Mass offers a new way to experience Los Angeles one ride at a time.

Cyclists gather for the monthly Critical Mass rides in Koreatown on Nov 8th, 2025.

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Steve Saldivar

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The LA Local

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