Woke up today to alarming amounts of bass decibels, louder than the scariest of thunders, close to a Sonic Boom I am sure--as if Godzilla approached. Thumps penetrating deep, vibrating through everything, my apartments walls, glasses of water, thumps deep enough to feel pulsing through my epidermis, hell, even inner organs.
A commotion was happening outside, endless rows of priceless latino-powered Low-Riders lined up side by side, veteranos from all over East L.A walking nonchalantly along the strip, girls, food...the historic Whittier Blvd. festival right outside my house.
Male Latino dominated Low Rider culture, very common of old East L.A ex-gangbanging veterans; bornagains, dedicating all their money, time and and efforts to having the swankiest ride in town aka, as bragging rights. They form car cliques and ride around Whittier Blvd. occasionally--mostly on weekends--hitting switches for hydraulics and making sure they're bass thump won't shatter nearby windows.
In these Eastern, gang-territory separated wastelands, I will tell you firsthand, to see everyone united like this is truly a awestrucking spectacle.
Unique street food vendors come out exclusively for these seldom events, celebrating all latino cultured influences; grease of all backrounds--tacos, pupusas, fried plantains--united as well.
Much history has happened on this asphalt: Zoot-Suit Riots, Drive-By's and now...solidarity.
The City of East L.A has actually taken its first steps to become just that, their own seperate city and entity.
East Los born, bred, proud.