by Madeline White
A bubbling mimosa balanced carefully as it passed by me on a server’s tray. The smell of rich mahogany, my steaming coffee, and possibly 100-year-old carpet wafted in the air around me. My eyes panned the room as I surveyed the restaurant guests. “The Polo Lounge at the Beverly Hills Hotel is not your average brunch scene,” I thought to myself.
It was a hot and humid Sunday and the sky was fluctuating between cloudy and sunny. Despite the heat, the middle-aged men wore sports jackets and women wore large, decorative floral hats that purposed anything but to blend in.
At the table beside me, a man looked eerily similar to James Vanderbeak. However, I came to the eventual conclusion that it was not him. His brunch-mates were tanned, manicured, and blond and could have very well been Los Angeles socialites, if not Hollywood actors that I failed to recognize.
The trisection of coffee, orange juice, and water I’d been consuming suddenly gave me the urge to urinate. I walked through the glamorous restaurant past plates of Eggs Benedict that had been hardly picked-at and half-full glasses of scotch.
The bathroom was an experience of its own. I felt like Marie Antoinette; the only thing missing was cake. The sinks were elaborately sculpted out of what looked and felt like real gold. The parlor area took my breath away with its gorgeously decorated pink walls and gold mirror frames. As I dried my hands off with the generously-supplied cotton hand towels, I looked up at the beautiful tall blond woman beside me. She looked like a mix between Elisha Cuthbert and Kate Bosworth. Alas, upon further speculation I realized she was neither.
I settled back into my cushy seat at my table-for-1 as an amusing thought suddenly crossed my mind: this was the same bathroom that Beverly Hills Housewife Kim Richards was recently dragged out of by police while kicking and screaming. The booze-fueled April 16 incident involved a dispute between the impaired reality show star and the maître d’ of the Polo Lounge. Reports say that she was drunk and caused a major scene as the restaurant staff, and later police, attempted to kick her out.
While alcoholism is certainly no laughing matter, I giggled at the idea of a drunken celebrity being pulled out of this restaurant; no less, this bathroom. The upper echelon setting was likely a humiliating backdrop for Richard’s behavior.
As I finished the rest of my coffee—a delicious brew, might I add—I looked around one last time to see if I recognized any familiar faces. Unfortunately, I did not. But I certainly felt the vibes of old Hollywood glamour. “The Polo Lounge at the Beverly Hills Hotel is probably filled with famous people throughout the week,” I thought, “But today—for whatever reason—is not the day.”
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