Solano Avenue is in North Berkeley, away from the rat-trap of downtown, campus, and students. It’s in an affluent neighborhood, with oodles of upscale shops selling you over-expensive things that you have absolutely no need for. Like a cloisonné vase turned into a one-of-kind lamp. Or fancy wool yarn for knitting. Or stiff leather chairs in the modern style. It also has a lot of restaurants, from the cheap and cheerful, to the swank and silly.
On weekends, Solano Avenue is filled with dogs, strollers, couples holding hands, friends hanging out, homeless people begging, people milling about the Peet’s coffee shop - it’s a clap-trap of goings-on. On a sunny day, it’s wall-to-wall pedestrians. No matter if I’m walking or driving, people on Solano Avenue make me hate people. And Berkeley.
But especially when I’m driving.
There are no crosswalks with lights (only one, and almost no one uses it), so walkers just cascade into traffic as though they were J.H. Christ himself, able to stop cars with a single wave of the hand. They sip their coffee, talk on their cell phones, chat and smile with each other, and take their sweet time getting to the other side of the street.
Overheard conversations also drive me insane. About whether or not they’ll take in the new exhibition at MOMA. Or if a drive to Napa is worth it. Or the new “Brazilian music class” they’ve joined. It’s a bit pretentious, but done in a “we’re so not like that style”. These are rich, white people who don’t know they are rich, white people. Rather, they are “middle class”, “hip” people who “care about the world”. And their large, no foam, non-fat, soy chai lattes.
Of course, I think about the irony of it all, as I buy my occasional baguette and walk down to get my latte. I try not to talk about my boat, or my next trip to Bali. But, then, I don’t have to try very hard, since I’m a graduate student and I don’t really have any money. I’m an insider-outsider who loves to use hyphens to describe things. I’m in between myself.
And, maybe, just maybe, I hate myself a little bit, too.
Solano Avenue in Berkeley makes me realize how much I hate people.
Solano Avenue is in North Berkeley, away from the rat-trap of downtown, campus, and students. It’s in an affluent neighborhood, with oodles of upscale shops selling you over-expensive things that you have absolutely no need for. Like a cloisonné vase turned into a one-of-kind lamp. Or fancy wool yarn for knitting. Or stiff leather chairs in the modern style. It also has a lot of restaurants, from the cheap and cheerful, to the swank and silly.
On weekends, Solano Avenue is filled with dogs, strollers, couples holding hands, friends hanging out, homeless people begging, people milling about the Peet’s coffee shop - it’s a clap-trap of goings-on. On a sunny day, it’s wall-to-wall pedestrians. No matter if I’m walking or driving, people on Solano Avenue make me hate people. And Berkeley.
But especially when I’m driving.
There are no crosswalks with lights (only one, and almost no one uses it), so walkers just cascade into traffic as though they were J.H. Christ himself, able to stop cars with a single wave of the hand. They sip their coffee, talk on their cell phones, chat and smile with each other, and take their sweet time getting to the other side of the street.
Overheard conversations also drive me insane. About whether or not they’ll take in the new exhibition at MOMA. Or if a drive to Napa is worth it. Or the new “Brazilian music class” they’ve joined. It’s a bit pretentious, but done in a “we’re so not like that style”. These are rich, white people who don’t know they are rich, white people. Rather, they are “middle class”, “hip” people who “care about the world”. And their large, no foam, non-fat, soy chai lattes.
Of course, I think about the irony of it all, as I buy my occasional baguette and walk down to get my latte. I try not to talk about my boat, or my next trip to Bali. But, then, I don’t have to try very hard, since I’m a graduate student and I don’t really have any money. I’m an insider-outsider who loves to use hyphens to describe things. I’m in between myself.
And, maybe, just maybe, I hate myself a little bit, too.
March 16, 2008
Categories: Berkeley, Solano Avenue, commentary, life, rich people . Tags: Berkeley, commentary, irony, life, Solano Avenue . Author: tmacphail
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