A Salsa Song for Halle Berry

Every now and then the gods and goddesses will step down from their thrones and grace us with their presence.  They will walk amongst the poor and middle classes perhaps remembering a time when they were mere mortals.  Such was the case yesterday when academy award winning actress and model Halle Berry appeared magically in the crowd at the Los Angeles Contemporary Museum of Art (LACMA) free Latin/Jazz concert.

I was headed toward the ladies room when a male security guard came over to me and asked, "Is that Halle Berry?" I stared hard at the back of a petite woman who walked a few feet ahead of me.
  "It looks like her back, but I can't tell for sure," I said.  "Run up and see!" 

The guard trotted ahead of me.  As the woman veered toward the ladies room, I quickened my pace.  When I reached the entrance, the guard stood there gawking and grinning.  I turned my head and there she was, standing in line with about a half dozen Latina and African American women.  Except for that unforgettable face, she was incognito.  A below the knee black skirt draped her slender hips. A loose gray cashmere sweater grazed the skirt just below the waistline.  Large round sunglasses hid her eyes, but not the beauty of that heart shaped face.

What stood out most about her was not her glamour, but the way she stood in line to a public toilet like everyone else, not demanding to go ahead of others though I am sure they would have let her if she had asked. My fingers itching to take a photograph of her, I asked if I could take a picture, but she shook her head.  "You don't want to do that," she said.  "I'm not wearing make up.  I'm tired.  We just came from Disneyland."

"Okay, I will respect your privacy," I said.  Noticing the small baby bump that protruded from her waist, I changed the subject. "When is your baby due?" I asked.

"October," she replied and flashed that million dollar smile.

"Do you know if it's a boy or girl?" I asked.  She shook her head. "Sometimes it's better to be a surprise," I added. We chatted two women standing in line at the entrance to the restroom -- strangers, yet familiar in the way women are who have shared similar life experiences, regardless of their status in life. A few seconds later a woman emerged from a stall.  Halle waltzed in and closed the door. 

From the outdoor arena, the rhythmic sound of salsa music drifted through the park.  I stood in line reflecting on how in L.A. occasionally you can run into a celebrity, a star and suddenly realize that like you they are vulnerable and human.