Just Take The Money and Run, Already.

I made a quick run to Hollywood & Highland yesterday with my former blogging partner. Everyone's favorite student needed to snap some shots for a school project. It was your average Sunday in Cinema City^TM - there was a premiere (Ice Age 2 - I can punfully painfully say it looked "cool" because they laid out man-made ice/snow in lieu of a red carpet) that blocked off the street and foot traffic to the Chinese Theatre. As usual, there was more than one Spider-Man roaming the crowds - and as usual, they were all sorely in need of some athletic support. It's always a trip to see the tourists freak out when Jason spooks them in a hockey mask. Personally, I'm more scared of forgetting to validate my parking and paying an arm and a leg to wander the Virgin Megastore. Luckily, FB found the perfect belated gift for the Princess' birthday (I'm not tellin' - she does read this thing occasionally!) so we got out for the standard 4 hours for $2 .

But everything has a trade-off - nothing is for free in this world. Before we could get to the overpriced art of people-watching, we would have to suffer a little. You know how you see someone and just know that destiny means for you to cross their path? I don't mean in that nice, "Our eyes met from across the room..." way. I'm talking, "I saw this dude, and I knew he was eat up way more of my time than he was worth." Well, I saw this dude and, well, you know. I tried in vain to go the long way around to get the elevator out of the parking structure. The shifty bastard made a quick turn and seemed not to notice the handsome pair passing him by, trying to avoid eye contact. But then it happened. His thoughts were as fragmented as his outfit was boring.

"Hey, I can ask you guys for - yes, that's what I'll do - I'll ask you." At this point, every human being as a choice to make: you can either stop or run. Being reasonably assured we weren't about to get mugged, and being nicer than either us care to own up to, we stopped. I can tell you now - there is almost nothing in my past I would do over. Most mistakes I would leave intact - you know, that whole it-made-me-who-I-am thing. But if God gave me one moment to do over, it would be a toss up between the night I drunkenly thought it was a good idea to go home with a an equally drunk USC frat boy or the decision not to keep walking and pretend I hadn't heard Mr. Freak-O ask for a moment of my time. Who am I kidding? At least I don't remember the drunken night.

OK, so the long and short: he was supposed to meet somebody who didn't show. He needed to get to Studio City. He knew how and supposedly knew where the subway station was. In any event, 5 minutes after his diatribe began (He thought out loud at one point, "God, this is like a Seinfeld episode...") I'd finally had enough of his yammering. I think I faked polite better than Meg Ryan faked that orgasm in When Harry Met Sally.

"So, do you just need to three bucks for the subway?" I said as I reached for my wallet. At this point, $20 wouldn't have been too much to ask.

"Yeah. I'm really sorry. Thanks so much."

"Don't worry about it. We've all been there."

We made sure he knew where the subway station was and let him on his way. After exchanging some bewildered looks, we tried to figure out what had just happened. Personally, I think he was either a wanna-be screenwriter or a never-will actor out for an adventure to go back and tell his workshop class about.
As we walked into the Megastore, I saw the jerk getting directd toward the subway station (Hit the sidewalk and make a left, moron!). The friendly tourists seemed to not have given an money. I imagined people helping him with the ticket machine and fellow riders pointing out what stop he needed to hop off on. I was ready to choke a bitch, but something shiny caught my eye.

What pissed me off when I thought back on it wasn't so much the time and it certainly wasn't the money. I've had to break twenties buying a pack of gum I didn't need to have 75 cents for the bus before. It was that I may have just given time and money to someone who helps give my hometown a bad name. Lousy bastard was probably one of those transplants who moved here, went to USC film school and expected to be a "self-made" millionaire based on his mediocrity in a year or two. There's a reason they call them pipe dreams: you'd have to be smoking crack to believe it's gonna be that easy.

Improbably, what helped me out was the friendly guy behind the counter at Virgin. As he rang us up, he commented on our purchases and complained good-naturedly about how the store becomes little more than a walkway when events like movie premieres or award shows take over the boulevard. He mentioned that it was nice to be closed on Oscar Sunday but that three non-working days in a row hurt his paycheck. If this guy, with his tats and his reddish-pink hair had asked me for directions, money, or something equivalent, I'd have given with a smile. At least he had something to say.

It's all I ask, really. I hope you expect and get the same of me.

-J.

This post was sponsored by the Native Sun Worshipper Committee.