This is ostensibly a nightlife blog, and this ostensibly happened at night (or at least in the hours leading up to nighttime), though it didn't happen in a nightclub or a bar. My Fourth was both the most mundane I've probably ever had, and the most surreal. Mundane because I attended a barbecue in a backyard of a house on a tree-lined block, then went home early because I was feeling sick. It was surreal because there appeared to be an actual military truck in the center of the street. Oh, and because the neighbors were all grilling on their front lawns, not their backyards. I had stumbled on a bona fide El Manor block party in Westchester in LA.

I got the full gander of the residents as I traversed what I would later call "the gauntlet of suburbia." It felt cinematic, walking down this picturesque tree-lined street lined with picnic tables and grills in the front yards and numerous moon bounces filled with children hopping away. And then there was the army truck.

Along the way, people shot off fireworks and lit sparklers. One guy had a sound system set up and played old-timey cabaret.

American flags dotted the yards and wrapped the houses.

Odd as it may sound, when you live in a city like Los Angeles, there isn't much face-to-face interaction between you and your neighbors. This suburban street fair was one of the most urban experiences I have had thus far during my brief stay in the City of Angels. And definitely the oddest.

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