Wednesday, May 9, 2012

There are some places one goes where you’d think were fairly safe and secure.  Case in point, Beverly Hills.  It’s located here in southern California and is so high end that I’m surprised they don’t check your income level to see if a person is “worthy” of entering the city. 

LOL.

A friend of mine had an appointment there on Monday, parked their car and went in to have the meeting.  Arriving back at the car later, my friend was distressed and utterly surprised to discover that not one or two but all four of their tires had had fallen victim to some sick person’s concept of what’s fun by being punctured.

This act of violence seemed especially out of place due to the locale.  I mean, it’s not like my friend was in a bad part of town—there is no bad part of Beverly Hills.  Took some time and the high price tag of four new tires, but my friend finally got their car back into working order.

Actually, this event is one of the things that made the seven of us determined to head to Griffith Park later that night.  We wanted to surround our friend with positive individuals who valued them while allowing them to blow off steam as they worked up a healthy sweat.

Our hike and exploration of the now abandoned smaller animal enclosures of the original LA Zoo was a great way to relieve our friend’s stress.  But still…the sting and financial burden of four new tires just because they had to go to a meeting in Beverly Hills made mad my friend wonder, what the heck’s the matter with some people that drives them to destroy what others have?