#class disparity
At the gate, a security guard taps my friend’s car with two fingers. When we roll down the window, he offers no greeting. His eyes meet our own expectantly, asking the questions his lips do not bother to formulate: Where are you going? Who are you looking for? What business do you have coming here? Following our response, the wooden bar guarding the entrance lifts and we are inside Beverly Hills — not the coveted set of Hollywood classics, but…
