Hollywood Boulevard

Location:
United States

LA Hollywood travel

By joe

For most people Hollywood represents the rich and ridiculous, actors and actresses, gossip and rumors. However, less than a decade ago Hollywood, and especially the Boulevard, had become extremely seedy and squalid. Prostitutes and pushers roamed the streets and young runaways and transients heckled tourists who searched for the last remnants of sparkling gold and glamour on the dreary sidewalks. Or that’s at least what I’ve been told.

For six months I inhabited Hollywood, waking up in upscale neighborhoods to the sight of the Hollywood sign from the bed of my truck. After working wicked hours I would get off work to cook dinner. I’d boogie on down to the Boulevard and pull into one of my three parking places.

“What’re you doing?” a passerby would ask.

“Cooking dinner… You hungry?”

“Well, why’re ya cooking dinner here?”

“No reason other that that this here’s my kitchen,” I’d say while exhibiting my tailgate kitchen like Vanna White might. “And this here’s my bedroom,” pointing to the back of my truck. “And here’s my living room and dining room, they’re one and the same, but I don’t mind having a small house,” I’d boast while the passerby looked at the fold up chairs, the Kashmiri rug, and the salad and soup being prepared. “Want some tea?’

I’d share my food and tea with this newfound friend who was more than likely a longtime college professor or club promoter. Before long one of my regular sidewalk tea sippers would saunter up. Perhaps it was the punk rock kid with hatred for everyone unknown, except when he came to my place, where he felt comfortable with all those collectively involved. Or maybe it was that girl from Germany who thought I was so selfish when I refused to take the five dollars she offered me for all the tea and treats I’d served her. Before long the lane side living room would be covered with happy shopkeepers and hair stylists, security guards and gutter punks, Scientologists and pseudo-atheists, hippie buskers and bumbling bums.

Whether the conversation was topical or typical, philosophical or physical, it did one thing: it brought a sense of community to the Boulevard. People would walk the long way home in order to see if there was tea to be had. Whether houseless or hopeful, employed or empty pocketed, Caucasian or Asian, slim or stout, people talked. And when we talked we rose above rumors, we back-burnered any bias, we realized that we cared for our comrades, whether known or not. We realized that down-and-outer was the same as our mother-in-law. The redneck-republican was the same as the dope-smoking democrat.

“So, why are you serving tea here tonight?”

“My home is where I am in the now and home is a good place to taste tea. Not to mention that life on the Boulevard here tonight is currently my favorite channel on my big screen TV,” I’d say as I spread my arms like an angel. “My big screen TV that features the most crisp and realistic surround sound you’d ever hear – that is, if you’ve got good ears.”