Walking Among the Stars

“Michael Jackson is dead!” screamed the nurse holding the long foreboding needle that would, in seconds, be stuck in the crook of my elbow, transferring my blood to a labeled plastic package.

The morning of June 25 started as any other summer morning: waking up at 9 am, eating some cereal and using the facilities, returning to the comforts of my bed, and reawakening around noon. After adjusting my eyes to the light of day, I decided I would do something productive with the time I had left in the day. I was going to give blood. Not only because my blood might possibly be the factor that saves the life of a cancer patient, but also to cease the calls from the never ending, bothersome workers at the blood bank always hounding you for more.

After arriving at the blood bank, now apparently titled ‘Life Stream’, and undergoing the long and sometimes uncomfortable questionnaire deciding whether or not you are eligible to donate, I was in the chair ready to give of myself for those in need. Seconds before the nurse was to stick the needle in the vein that would deliver my blood to the greedy tube, a breaking news story appeared on the screen of the television of the small room. Time froze as the world learned that it had lost one of the most talented and controversial man of all time.

Leaving the blood bank, and still feeling a little woozy, I immediately called my two closest friends concerning the death of the infamous MJ. Of course they had already heard and were in shock as to the untimely and unfortunate demise of the pop icon. Since we were already getting together that night, we decided to do something in honor of the singer. Not knowing what exactly to do, we piled into my roommate’s bright red VW bug and headed west. Almost all at once, we all knew where we were going: Hollywood.

Finding a parking spot in the garage of the Kodak theatre we made our way through Hollywood; three teenage girls walking alone through the hobo infested streets of downtown Hollywood in search of the star of Michael Jackson. We had no idea where it would be and we definitely did not anticipate the number of celebrity stars there are throughout the streets of LA. Seeing a rather large gathering ahead of us, we knew we must be close. We instantly reconsidered our hasty decision of driving to Hollywood at night. Around Michael Jackson’s star were a motley crew of homeless men, hookers, and grieving fans. Quickly paying our respects, we turned and darted back to the car as hobos called crass remarks after us. Locking ourselves in the safety of the little car, we promised ourselves, Michael Jackson or no Michael Jackson, never again would we browse through the dirty streets of Hollywood in the dark without our boyfriends.