A Sunday in Beverly Hills

Saturday morning I woke up depressed. My sinuses were killing me. One bottom tooth had a gap and any bit of food made it cry. So I got the-hell out of Carlsbad. I mentioned in my last blog how it took me only about three hours to go from Oceanside to West Los Angeles for about $12. I had forgotten that the Academy Award were on Sunday. 
  
It felt great to sleep over in my daughter's West Los Angeles apartment. It was only a block to Beverly Hills and not far from its Civic Center.
   But like good-old Ben Franklin once said in his Almanac: "Fish and Visitors smell in three days." For me one day suited me fine. 
   Since I am an early riser, I awoke Sunday at about six o'clock to the sound of the Seven Blue Bus hiking up Pico Blvd. But my stay with my adorable DNA recharged my dead battery. The Santa Monica charging winds unclogged my lungs with its westerly winds.
  
   Today I am ever-so-thankful to be alive- and to have raised two darling daughters. The task was difficult at their beginning, but its the finish that counts. And I count my blessing-each day. The number 14 bus arrived about seven and the kind bus driver allowed me to sit inside while she smoked a cigarillo.
   The bus dropped me off on Canon. I felt exuberant today, carrying my back pack and God telling me to make a day-of-it. I crossed Crescent Drive and then Canon to Beverly Drive. I wasn't hungry for food but still stopped at Nate and Al's, still holding its own while other stores folded. 
    I had two pancakes and turned away from the anemic bacon It was crisp, so crisp it broke up laughing when I tried to eat it. At seven thirty the iconic restaurant served only a few people while across the Beverly Drive Street is resembled a bee-hive.
    Verizon Wireless, Sharkey's, the Mexican Grill, the Farm and Coffee Bean looked busy. On the corner was Paley's T.V. museum, and a hot bagel shop. I stopped in at Starbucks to work on my book and also...
     "Why thank you sir. I would love to read the New York Times."
    The gentleman by the window gave me his Newspaper. It was going on nine o'clock and I knew that the Farmer's market might be opened. I took Little Santa Monica toward the library which opened at twelve on the weekends.Next to the Annenberg Musical Art Building. A large tent with T.V. trucks took up Crescent Drive. Vanity Fair was to have a After-Academy gathering.
    And there was the Farmer's Market, just east of the library's parking structure. I bought two large avocados, one a Haas and sat at the second table. A wheel chaired one sat at the first and I didn't wish to intrude. 
    A few rain drops fell. Two kids in their twenties sat across from her table. The tall young pony tail wore a jersey while his lady friend dressed in tight fitting black slacks and a black shirt to match. 
    Her eyes could not get enough of the tall lean one who wore an effervescent smile. 
    "Just love your hair Vincent. I am going to make mine look like yours." Her dark eyes still were ever fixed on his. I walked over to them with my camera. 
    "Can I put you on U-Tube?" I asked. They nodded. (There film will be shown here.)

    I then returned to Little Santa Monica Blvd. The Vanity Fair's tent grew wider with more catering trucks and security guards. I felt like a bird peaking in. Everywhere, Bentleys, Mercedes and other sports cars readied themselves for the Academy Awards. The perfumed streets allowed only the slickest of black cars to enter Beverly Blvd. The men wore two-tone colored shoes whereas the ladies wore tall laced shoes. Each walked the Beverly walk-- straight up and looking ahead. 
   I entered the Cities Tourist office and enjoyed some pictures of old Beverly Hills. Paley on Beverly had a old typewriter exhibit. I will place pictures next time. 
   It took me a little longer to return to Union Station and my Metro-Link train back for San Diego. I returned the same way I had come-but in reverse. The #720 Red Rapid took me to Western and the old Wiltern Theater. The Purple Underground train took me the rest of the way to the Union Station. I took the 2:00 one since I knew that the Chinese might load the train up at the four thirty one.    
But what I didn't know was that the Metro Link train had a major derailment in Oxnard during the dark early morning hours. I wondered if Isis was busy trying to derail our train service. It is only a matter of time when we too, will be hand checked before boarding a train.  
   I know from my Coaster-Commuter service that most accidents happen after sunset. For the last four years, some indigents have been hit by the Coaster.