It's been 30 years since Randy Newman name-checked 6th Street in "I Love LA," his ironic ode to Los Angeles's class inequity. In that time, the divide between the city's handful of haves and countless have-nots has widened, perhaps irreparably.6th Street was then, and remains now, LA's definitive street. Traversing its short length will allow you to experience an unforgettable lesson in the city's profound social fragmentation in less than 30 minutes; any longer than 30 minutes and your perspective is free!
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Beginning in an industrial wasteland south of downtown, 6th Street tiptoes through the horrors of Skid Row, jumps through the bourgeois bullshit of the "Arts District" (located adjacent to Skid Row because suffering allegedly inspires art), locks its doors and watches its step through MacArthur Park, begins to feel more at ease in Koreatown, leisurely strolls through the wooded decadence of Hancock Park and dead-ends, appropriately, at an establishment called the Rehabilitation Centre of Beverly Hills.At the beginning, desperation. At the end, opulence. The only thing subtle about it is how seamlessly it blends.Megan Koester is a writer/comedian who lives in one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Los Angeles—Westlake/MacArthur Park. See her (provided she doesn't get gunned down in a drug deal gone wrong) and other VICE west coast contributors at ENTITLEMENT; Wednesday, Februrary 5th, with headliner Greg Proops at Los Globos on Sunset Blvd. in Silver Lake. Also, follow her on Twitter @bornferal.
