As many of you probably know, The Lakers won game 7 last night. The Lakers won! THE LAKERS WON!
And true to form in L.A., there was a riot downtown.
However, I was in Hollywood which exploded with happiness when they won. Horns were honking. People were shouting. Heterosexual men were embracing other heterosexual men.
I don’t consider myself a big basketball fan. Baseball is more my thing. But that was one exciting game.
Last night, I had to work on a play, but I had the game playing on an old walkman radio. I kept updating people. Lakers are down by six. They’re down by nine. They’re down by thirteen. They’re down by four. They’re down by two.
At intermission, one of my co-workers (a Celtics fan by the way) refreshed her blackberry, and we got the final. Lakers win. 83-79. Holy smoke! They did it! Woohoo!
During the second half, we could hear the horns and the cheering out on Hollywood Boulevard.
After the play, I stood on the corner of Hollywood and Highland with two 20-something ladies who had been in the audience. They were definitely more theatre fans than sports fans, and they looked at the pandemonium around them with fear in their eyes.
Okay. I said. This is one of those times when we can stand on the corner of Hollywood and Highland and scream our lungs out and not get arrested, so on three, we’re gonna do just that.
The Ladies nodded but seemed uncertain. They were the kind of girls who didn’t break too many rules. Still, there was something safe in my proposition. Besides, how many times in a lifetime can one let out a primal scream on Hollywood Boulevard?
I counted them in.
We all screamed. It felt good. Sometimes, you don’t have to beat L.A. Sometimes you can just be L.A.