October 13th, 2013. I’m sitting in my parked car inside the parking structure at the Beverly Hilton. I only dreamed of coming here someday. I always passed by it coming and going from Cedars Sinai or UCLA Medical Center.
And now, here I am. Dressed up and ready to attend a pretty upscale event to accept the Wendy Burch Scholarship. I worked so hard on that application. I even worked up the balls to tell my story to a camera.
You won. Someone in the industry thinks you have potential. Go figure.
I make my way to the International Ballroom. My legs have still not adjusted to wearing heels. But when there’s a red carpet involved, I’ll fake the funk the best I can.
I’m nervous. I don’t know anyone here. I’m so used to bringing a “plus one” to these sort of things.
After I check-in, word began going around the ballroom that I was Wendy Burch’s scholarship recipient. The Hispanic waiters noticed how nervous I was and definitely figured out that I wasn’t from here.
“¿No eres de aqui, verdad?” (“You’re not from here, are you?”) I replied in Spanish and in turn got champagne brought to me. I love my culture.
Before I knew it, I was mingling with the likes of Jackie Johnson and even Zsa Zsa Gabor’s husband. How bizarre. Beverly Hills used to be the darkest place on earth for me.
Red carpet, photos, free gifts…the whole nine yards. I felt more at ease as time went on.
Finally, I meet the wonderful Wendy Burch. She immediately puts her arms around me and congratulates me.
“Harvey is very excited for you, too! He sends his congrats.” Oh, Harvey Levin. I learned so much during my stint at TMZ. Most importantly, I learned how to deal with dirty looks and comments from celebrities when they learn I was once there.
After a few glasses of wine, I began making my way to my table when I am approached by Leslie Miller.
“You do know that you’re going to be going on stage today, right?”
Uh…NO. I immediately grew anxious.
The stage was my playground back in my day. Now, I feel absolutely exposed (and not in a good way) whenever I’m on it. That’s why I majored in journalism. The loud little ballet dancer didn’t want to BE the story anymore.
I learned, however, that once you make the stage your home, that feeling never really leaves you. The anxiety immediately disappeared when they announced my name. I went into performer mode and walked out and waved. I blew my kisses to my lovely Wendy Burch and thanked the crowd.
Whatta ham.
After the event, I mingled a little more with guests. I decided to head home after Maria Shriver congratulated me.
That’s what I wanted to think about on the long ride home. I wanted to leave with Maria Shriver’s words fresh in my mind. I didn’t want to stare at the buildings while on the 405 and think about those awful trips to the hospital. In a way, I wanted to take back Beverly Hills. I wanted to make that area my own.
As I drove down Wilshire Boulevard, I couldn’t help but compare my two lives. One day, my father is driving me down these roads while I’m in the backseat puking my brains out and wishing for death. The next, I’m driving MYSELF home and remembering Miss Shriver’s words to me.
“Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”
How strange…I think I’m happy for me, too.
wendysolorio 
Uhhhh…”GUSTA”.