I stumbled out of lab at 11 AM and discovered: I have nothing to do this afternoon. But my next thought was: I must get away before someone realizes I'm wandering out alone. So I stuffed my camera, a couple extra rolls of film, a water bottle, an umbrella (it never hurts to be prepared!), and a handful of change into my bookbag and hopped on the first bus out of town.
Passengers were forever getting on and off, but I paid scant attention to them. What I slavered over was outside. Did you know that Glendale's downtown covered bus stops are painted with old fashioned green and lined with faux gold? The bus stopped at one of those and I saw through a cafe window a balding man lean over to kiss a woman. Another couple outside the cafe were bickering. Along Los Feliz, there was a playground swarming with children and a wide concentric fountain tall and alone. The route wound around a residential area where residents crammed their tiny lawns with knickknacks and old junk for a yard sale.
The bus route terminated at the intersection of Hollywood and Highland. The light seemed brighter than usual (no trees in sight along the street, not even a scraggly palm tree) and when I got out to be swallowed into the swell of the crowd, I knew my afternoon belonged here--in the gaudy and touristy strip of Hollywood Boulevard.
I've been in Hollywood only twice before, but both of those times, I never stuck around to poke and prod. The first time my family and I were just driving through to get to downtown L.A. The second time, a couple of my friends dragged me to the Mann's Chinese Theater to watch The Matrix. In the dark, all I got was a glimpse of red. But this time, I got a good long look at it in daylight. There at the very edge, underneath tourists' feet, I saw Eddie Murphy's signature and his message, "Be free."
Some of my time was spent looking at the ground. The sidewalks are a step above concrete. It's a blue-gray granite covered in pink stars. The first name I recognized was Sylvester Stallone. Star-struck visitors often liked to break the flow of traffic by crouching next to the star to have their picture taken.
Most of the shops along Hollywood were dingy tourist traps selling three (cheaply made) t-shirts for ten bucks and postcards that either featured landscapes or half-nude women. I wandered around in the Guinness World Records Museum (a rip-off at seven dollars per head) and the Hollywood Wax Museum (I'm not afraid to admit that I was too chicken to go through all of the horror exhibit). Outside of the world records museum, I saw a mime who looked startlingly like a fake wax figure. When I stared at him, wondering if I should touch him to make sure that he wasn't real, he winked at me.
I saw Wonder Woman, arms crossed, red lips stretched downward, pissed. I saw Batman counting a handful of green bills. A man in a bright green pirate's costume raised his handbell stoically as I snapped a picture. A used bookstore owner, lounging against the doorway to his shop took a drag on his cigarette and told me, "Have a nice day."
Yes, indeed. I was having a very nice day.
Another Link: Plan B - A blognovel. My thoughts exactly. I tried it once and I'm not sure when I'll start up again.
