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The Truth About the Fact: An International Journal of Literary Nonfiction

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Location: Los Angeles, California, United States

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Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Hollywood Hot-Spot

It’s cold outside, but yet all the girls seem to be wearing thin cloth dresses, short, and tight. Sure, it’s fashionable, cute, and of course it will be warm inside the venue, but watching them shivering and suffering without jackets is making me suffer with them. Just seeing how cold they are, huddling altogether in groups is making me imagine how cold they can be. This makes me want to let them inside the venue faster so they don’t get sick. Well connected looking men walk around them, staring and saying cheesy pickup-lines that only annoy them. Ironically, I know that when they’re inside they will probably stand next to their tables with bottle service to get free drinks. Nevertheless, I know that my shift has only just begun and all the debaucheries and nonsense that I see here being a cashier and host at this Hollywood hot-spot has only just begun.
As the bouncers rally-up the crowd behind the red velvet ropes, the young and attractive youth of Hollywood look like cattle being huddled to the side. Although, where I work is classy and popular, the idea of comparing them to cattle maybe harsh, but it is what comes to mind when seeing this every shift. These attractive people entering the venue are huddled together and look confused and worried. Their probably confused because they don’t know what to do and are following the rest of the guests, worried maybe because they might not get in, or they are probably cold or waiting for their friends. Many of them are also on their phones contacting the promoters to get in front of the line. Unfortunately as shallow and degrading as this is, if they’re all attractive girls then they will have no problem getting in. If there is a ratio of four out of five attractive girls and one unattractive guy then they’re in. If they are all attractive men with money or well connected then they’re in too, but if more than three, they have to get bottles or wait outside until the line dies-out. Yes, this does seem complicated. Also, bottles where I work run from five hundred dollars to a thousand and a minimum of two bottles for four people, not including gratuity.
My manager tells me to start ringing in, which means charging, those who are not on the list, or simply walk those in who have purchased bottles. While this is happening, I simply enjoy music playing in the background, greeting and smiling, asking the guests if they’re on the list. Time passes and we allow all of those on the list in and the attractive crowed in too. Bouncers start turning away those who are at the end of the line. I usually try to let everyone in though, because I feel bad. It hurts to see people dressed up to have fun for the night and rejected, so I still let them in, unless it’s past capacity. It’s around twelve now and this is the hour where celebrities make their appearance. The artists arrive and I escort them to their table. It was Puff Daddy and Justin Timberlake. They arrived together and were very polite. Not crazed by fame at all, like a few celebrities that have come before.
Making my way back through the crowed after showing them their area, I couldn’t help but notice the usually shenanigans I always do. People trying to blend in with the artist, trying to get connected with them, also, the attractive barley dressed girls mingling for drinks at tables, the drunk couples that can barely walk, spilling there half finished drinks and dancing as if their alone in their bedrooms. Also, the men arguing with other men, before security gets involved, and the socially awkward that lean against the walls.
Nevertheless, I return to my post until the night is over at 2:00 am. I talk to my coworkers to pass the time. They brag about random tips and bribes they receive inside. It’s a lot that people give them just so they don’t get kicked-out for being too drunk or out of line. They usually get minimum hundred dollars and most five hundred a bribe. One coworker of mine made a thousand to two thousand in one night. Their stories are amusing to me but I still feel weird because the entire ambiance of this is an odd way to socialize. Nevertheless, as the clock strikes two am, I close my register and clock-out. Entering the streets of Hollywood, filled with crazy drunken youth, I see how many people enter their cars intoxicated and drive away as if they were fine. Sure it’s fine to have fun, but you have to be responsible. My heart drops and I can only hope that they survive and not harm anyone else. A piece of me hopes that they get pulled over and learn their lesson on how dangerous it is to drink and drive. Observing everyone intoxicated like this brings me back to how they reminded me of cattle, confused and worried. Just like how they were when trying to get in. However, now many of them do not seem as classy has they did when they entered. Instead of trying to look posh, they have stopped caring; girls in heels that walked-in with sass, now can barely walk and talk. Men, who smelled of expensive cologne, smell of booze and cigarettes. Ironically, entering it was as if everyone entered the club wanting to feel like a celebrity or trying to look important, which is fine to feel highly of one’s self, but with a balance of course. Now they just seem lost in a Hollywood illusion. I get into my car and leave, driving back to my schools apartment, thinking of what another interesting Saturday night at work and all of the debaucheries I have witnessed again.
-Yenitza Munoz


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