The Clown Car Club

I saw a rather interesting thing the other night. Most people would not have been there to experience it in the way that I did. I happened to be on Hollywood Boulevard very late at night, waiting for a bus. I was standing outside an upscale hotel and nightclub, and I guess it was just as everyone was being forced to leave. It was well after closing time for bars, but I don't know that I understand how it works for other types of liquor-selling establishments. I should address the weather. Being around three in the morning, it was cold, wet, and were it not that street it would be very dark.

Even as I approached, there was a crowd of people standing around in clubbing attire. The men were largely in suits of some kind or in clothing which approximated that level of class according to their own minds. The women mainly seemed to be wearing very short skirts with low-cut tops.This was an interesting contradiction. They were faced with the necessity of doing several things at once: since it was so cold, they had nothing but their arms to supplement their garments in staying warm. At the same time, walking around had the effect of making their dresses ride up, so they had to constantly tug on them to keep them down. Thirdly, the sidewalk being slick with rain did nothing to help them as they struggled around somewhat drunk on tall, spindly high heels. There were some spills. The overall effect was not terribly appealing from my point of view.

As I said, some of the men were in suits, or generally formal wear. It did not help them come off much better than the women. They looked like jerks a lot more than they looked like Don Draper. Then there were those who skewed more towards a hip-hop sensibility, and they appeared to be very earnestly wearing their absurdly oversized gold chains and such. A handful of the men made not apparent effort in this direction or the other where their outfit was concerned. I wondered if they might be the real big shots in the bunch. As I waited, wave after wave of such people came out. There seemed to be no end of them, hence the title of this little essay. It was all rather amusing to watch for the most part. Watching them exit while concluding whatever they were doing inside, then making their plans to go home or where was funny. I guess I saw the thing playing out from the mindset of a perpetual wallflower, but I also couldn't fathom how they have fun in that lifestyle to begin with.

There was one guy who changed my attitude to one of worry. He was perhaps the most drunk one there. I think he was with them, but if I hadn't seem him appear to come from the same place, I might have assumed he was just walking by. Maybe he was, because he was not dressed up, and he clutched what appeared to be some kind of sub or cheese steak or something. He was very animated, and seemed to be rather combative. He was engaging in a very aggressive way with all around him. I would have just worried for his safety, not that I found him endearing, but it was the food he carried that was the real issue. As I said, he was drunk and animated, and he did not have a firm grip on that sandwich. I just imagined him getting far too close to me, engaging me in very unpleasant, incoherent conversation, then spilling the whole mess all over me. I put my book in my bag and went out in the light rain so that I would be able to evade him more easily.

Somewhat earlier than that, a very expensive-looking sports car just peeled out of the side street at unbelievable speed. It was like a drag race starting. They may have been drinking. As is my wont, I thought, "Real nice." Seconds after it took off- seconds, mind you- a police cruiser followed suit, and I chuckled with considerable delight, as did the gentlemen beside me also waiting for the same bus. It was quite a victory for the good people, and I was sorry to not have a good vantage point from which to take in the end of that little drama. Regrettably, the people leaving the prom for twenty and thirty year-olds roam the streets unpunished. I nonetheless enjoyed that quick peek at what remains to me an utterly alien subset of humanity before going home.