|"Remember the light at the end of the tunnel may be you."|
"Amazing" by Aerosmith
So even with the “fame” that comes with being in the LA Times, I am back to parking cars. Last night I was running around in a very dark and wet Bel Air neighborhood, hoping the speeding cars down Beverly Glen would see my small frame in between the endless rain drops plopping down on their fancy windshields. I was freezing. My jeans and puffy white coat featuring the valet company logo on the back offered little protection. For safety, I had a blinking glow stick hanging from my belt loop that I had gotten free two years ago for changing my oil. I was happy to see the thing still worked and prayed it generated some attention to passing cars that I was not a ghost but female valet attendant for fancy private house party.
After parking the cars for the guests attending the party, I was left to stand for two hours in the dimly lit driveway, which resembled some covered bridge the headless horseman might gallop through on his way to collect skulls. I tried to pass the time through conversations with my co-workers or wandering in and out of the covered bridge to admire the beauty of the landscaping.
On one side of the bridge were the huge double doors closing off the property from the street and any curious onlookers. With the doors closed, it was probably difficult to see through the vines and foliage that was obviously constructed for privacy. A colonial-style lamp hung from the center of the bridge providing some light, but the rain still clouded any real chances of viewing. In walking through the tunnel of the bridge to the other side, you were greeted with a stone walkway leading up to the front door and glowing windows filled with beautiful objects inside.
It suddenly seemed so easy to walk those few steps through the tunnel of darkness into this new world full of so much light that I stood there for a few minutes forgetting that the rain was damping my hair and soaking my shoes. I tried to enjoy the few moments of light knowing shortly I would have to return to the dark. I wasn’t sad though. I was just thankful I still had the energy and interest to make the walk. There is usually some kind of light at the end of the tunnel, but the question is whether you want to continue making the effort in trying to see it.
In honor of Thanksgiving this week, I want to thank all of the people over the past year who have closed their doors to me in one way or another. The cliché (about hope) says the light is at the end of the tunnel, but I think the brightest light is within us. While I may be knocking on your door looking for an opportunity to shine, I am well aware that there is a whole neighborhood full of other houses that I can walk to. Slamming your door in my face or cowardly hiding behind it and not answering doesn’t stop me. It just prevents you from having fun people at your party.
Oh, and the next New World just might be discovered by a bored valet attendant, so you better be thankful with more than just turkey, stuffing, and some cranberry sauce. I would say throw in at least a twenty if she used your Rolls Royce…
|Driving my first Rolls Royce through Beverly Hills.|