my piece in last week's LA Alternative:

Osama bin Laden hates Brokeback Mountain, and maybe he hates me too. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences seems to think that my little street-the 1700 block of Orchid Ave.-is primed for attack. Why else would they target this small stretch for ‘preferential’ treatment in the weeks leading up to, and even after, the 78th Annual Oscar award ceremony and telecast on Sunday, March 5th, 2006?

www.laalternative.com/index.p...eighbor/

I am sure the Oscars inconvenience most of us Hollywood residents in the same manner we are bothered by the ritualistic closings of Hollywood Blvd. They shut the street down-between LaBrea and Highland-pretty much anytime anyone in the Hollywood elite farts. Traffic is diverted to Franklin, which really cannot handle it. People in wheelchairs move faster than the cars on any given Sunday. I can hear an entire song blasting from someone’s SUV as it’s stuck on Franklin between Orange and Highland. Call me a NIMBY, but really, what’s so wrong with the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion?

I know I am prone to hyperbole, so in preparation for this story I visited the Streets and Sidewalk Closures section on the Academy’s official website (www.oscars.org/closures). There is only one closure that takes place THREE weeks PRIOR to the Oscars: “Close Orchid Alley from Orange Drive to Orchid Street from 8:00 a.m. on Sunday, February 12 to Saturday March 11, 2006, except for emergency vehicles.” That is my block. And that is a full month. And really, does the Academy warrant this type of protection? At what cost to taxpayers is all this heightened security?

Before I go any further, I really and truly understand what it means to live in this post 9/11 world. I was living in New York City at the time and saw both Towers crumble before my own eyes. I spent three weeks in Athens, Greece last summer for the Olympics. The soldiers on constant, heightened alert got so bored that I saw one of them-maybe all of 19 years old-twirling the pin on the hand grenade on his belt as the Jam’s “Little Boy Soldiers” soundtracked its way through my head.

And look, it’s not like my neighborhood is sunshine and roses the rest of the year. Speaking of hand grenades, one of my neighbors across the street apparently greeted the Marshall sent to evict him with a few of the pineapple variety. Couldn’t get down my block that day either-my birthday no less-and had to watch the helicopter’s angle on the proceedings from the safety of a TV set at the nearby Powerhouse dive bar. Some time later, one of my neighbors was held up at gunpoint in the alley outside my apartment window. I told the responding police officer that I hadn’t actually seen anything; my blinds were closed. And yes, another of my neighbors shot himself in the foot when he was cleaning his rifle in the apartment next to mine. That time I didn’t have to speak to the cops, but I did get to hear their anxious screams of “Where’s the gun?! Where’s the gun?!” at 5 a.m. There may be more alarming sounds to be awakened by, but I am hard pressed to imagine any.

Now, get this: The people in charge even go so far as to remove the mailboxes from the neighborhood for the weeks leading up to the Oscars. I’ve been in Paris when the garbage cans have been welded closed to resist bombers. The Parisians just go on their merry way, piling ‘le garbage’ atop les cans. Me? I’m just trying to mail out the March rent check. And really, does this particular block need all this extra protection when you consider that the Man of Steel lives on Orchid too? Superman’s Fortress of Solitude is just a few doors down from mine. I don’t know if he really keeps the block safe, although, apparently he does help keep it clean. I was walking a few strides behind his flowing blue cape one day. Superman must have been taking a short lunch break from his normal patrol of Hollywood Blvd. I was pleasantly surprised to see him pause, bend and pick up some trash from my dirty little street, and must have made a happy noise in the back of my throat (either that or Superman’s powers were in full force that day) because he turned around and noticed me. Superman nodded to me and smiled. Okay, his teeth are a little more yellow than you’d expect, but hell-did they even have coffee and cigarettes on Krypton? Superman said, “Hey! How ya’ doin’?” I replied, “Super…man.” He smiled, but I know he was thinking I stole his line.

So, last night I wandered down the block to Checkpoint Charlie’s and met the gentleman employed by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences to keep Jon Stewart safe from suicide bombers. Jean Paolo is from Brazil; he’s wearing a black security jacket with an A.M.P.A.S. patch. He is armed with a radio to defend against all comers. He’s not quite sure how long he and his fellow security officers are to be stationed at either end of the alley. He thought it was only until the night of the ceremony. I inform him that it’s going to be a full month. He shrugs and tells me that I cannot even walk down this part of the street. When I ask Jean Paolo if he thinks this security is meant to avert any kind of a terrorist attack, he shrugs again. He tells me that he hopes not. I shake his hand and wish him a good night.

At the other end of Orchid-where it meets up with Orange Ave.-is Jóse from El Salvador. Jóse is cold. He’s got a cup of coffee and A.M.P.A.S. has thoughtfully equipped him with a stool. Jóse’s not sure how long they are going to be there either. I inform him and he shrugs; all he knows is that they are there for a ’special event.’ He doesn’t know what the logo on his security jacket stands for. I think about telling him that Jean Paolo said it would be okay for me to walk back down my own street to my own apartment, but Jóse’s cold and he’s been friendly and there’s really no just cause to make this man’s life any more difficult.

But it gets worse. Again from the Academy’s website regarding closings one day prior to show: “Close Orchid Street from 60 feet south of Franklin Blvd. to Orchid Alley from 6:00 a.m. on Saturday, March 4 to 6:00 a.m. Monday, March 6, 2006 except for residents, emergency vehicles and hotel loading.” So much for me having a few friends over for an Oscar party. It’s get out of Dodge or bunker down with supplies. And the ‘residents’ part? Well, if you’re like me and don’t actually have any California identification with your current address, you wind up walking around with your DWP bill in hand in case the police ask for your “papers, please.” Hmm… Maybe I understand hand-grenade-man a little better.