My second day of travel in LA began with going to a breakfast buffet at my hotel.
Waiter: My ex girlfriend and first love, from when I was 20, lives in Sydney! I mean, I love my wife and stuff, but I made such a mistake breaking up with her. I still talk to her sometimes.
Me: Ummm should you be telling me this? Waiter: It’s fine, I’m never going to see you again after this week.
Casual talk of infidelity over breakfast. Pass me my 5th hashbrown please! Later that morning, I wandered up to Hollywood. Whatever. I spent the morning BOMBARDED by character actors, musicians, retail assistants, all standing along the strip working for tips. It was overwhelming. I think I would have easily spent at least $40 tipping people out of fear of saying no.
A man called Mr Muscles, chased me down the street (no, really) and said, “Let’s get a photo!” I thought he must be bored, so I indulged this, instantly feeling like a good person for supporting the struggling, arty folk of the Boulevard. I also made the HILARIOUS comment that ‘our muscles are pretty much the same size’.
He did not laugh.
On completion of photos he said, “Okay, so where’s your donation?”He hadn’t outlined these terms at the start, but if you’ll recall from earlier, his name is Mr Muscles and I think I know who’d win that fight. Obviously me, but I didn’t want to emasculate him etc…
Another $5 wasted. Later, someone asked me to a party at Sunset Boulevard. I didn't go. Too scared.
in HOLLYWOOD BABY553