Even though I lived in LA county, Beverly Hills- the city of wealth and lucky charm- was foreign country for me. Even though no one told me this, I new that Beverly Hills was not for me because it is a place for others who knew what to do with pristine and opulent streets. No one told me these things but I knew they were truth. Why? I knew my world, and it was not until after I left home that I fully understand that life existed after Pacific Coast Highway in Harbor City. Before this point, I knew a version of Beverly Hills existed because I did have a television and access to movies. I met Cher from Clueless and understood that fashion can be costume for school halls, in Beverly Hills. I saw 90210 and understood that scandal can be epic and indulgent, in Beverly Hills. I saw the Beverly Hillbillies and understood that certain folks who made it to the promise land were absurd in contrast to exaggerated opulence, in Beverly Hills. I saw I Love Lucy and understood that even in Black and White Beverly Hills was a land of palm trees, celebrities, pools, hats, and hotels that were not for me because I was not a reside of Beverly Hills.
I grew up, and understood what Beverly Hills was, for me: a destination for food, play, fun, and escape. But yesterday when I took a walk in this place to see a herd of wooden elephants, I understood that truly the grass is greener in Beverly Hills.
I started my mini safari in West Hollywood and walked a green framed path to the lifeless yet soul-filled herd. It was a path that connected the heart of Pride to the pulse of wealth. And, in a word, the path was majestic. It was on my way back from visiting the wooden elephant where I truly saw the richness of the manicured wild. I looked ahead and I felt a pure sense of joy-- I was uplifted because I was about to enter, what I truly felt was a garden fit for a queen. The trees wrapped and touched each other atop, as if they were making an arched path. The lights that lined the path were machines but their design made them feel like they were floating orbs of light. I wish I could summon the words to describe this path for what it was--- sensational proof that gardeners, and green-thumbed architects can create a sense of surrealism with average park items, but handled with sophistication, care and intent. It is like getting your nails down, well-- you take an item that many people have, and turn it into a gorgeous scene and if you know how to handle rich aesthetics well, than the scene stops being gorgeous and starts being an affluent vision of space and peace.
I loved that I felt what money grounds could produced, but, I hated that I was scared walking the path alone. At one point, I walked south, and two women walked north. I hit some spider webs. I was like eek spider webs, and I saw a spider. I would act giddy in fright if a spider touched my skin. The woman saw me react to the web and I felt their eyes on me, and maybe, I think, I felt their fear. I walked, and I turned, one of the woman was looking at me as we were far away from each other. Even though I know Beverly Hills as a frequent visitor now, I still am not seen as I belong there. Perhaps I am overthinking my place in Beverly Hills, but I also now my thoughts are not completely wrong,
I cannot wait to return to the path, and escape again to the majesty of this park. I will once again feel the awe and shine of trees treated with care for aestherthic purposes. And right now that the air and breeze belong to summer, the walk is pleasant and a reward after an arduous day. When I go again, I hope I don't fear the police being called on me because I am a guy walking in Beverly Hills alone at night. I know I was there for the right reasons but to others who do not know me, and are prone to judge for their protection might see me that way. That was hard to write but correct to say. read more