Either I'm paid little to no attention or am the subject of unwanted attention here in L.A.
I went to see a brilliant writer friend perform at Wordamara the other night. It was a spoken-word evening filled with witty, poignant, talented writers and performers. There were a few familiar folks in the audience, and we exchanged pleasantries, but I was struck at how invisible I was to the new people to whom I was introduced. Sure, they didn't know me, but to be literally sitting in between my friend and the "new" people and be talked over - completely and utterly ignored (remember, I have nothing to contribute in terms of job opportunities, gossip or sex as far as they know). They were actually leaning on me to get closer to each other, bitching about whatever literary goings-on needed to be bitched about, as if I was bar stool. No eye contact, no acknowledgment that I was human, or even present, despite the recent introduction. Only the bartender noticed me and my wedged-in status, pouring multitudinous refills of Coke (G-d bless him...). I'm not asking for an instant fawning entourage, but common courtesy might be a little nice. At least don't treat me like furniture, and uncomfortable furniture, at that. As for the show, well, it was quite long and entertaining.
On my way to the launch party for OutFest's 25th Anniversary year at the Egyptian, I got way too much attention from the LASD. That's right; I got pulled over by the cops. Slightly disoriented by the traffic, Xmas lights and the insistent voice on my TomTom One to "Turn Left NOW," I made a left turn on Hollywood Blvd. right in front of an oncoming Sheriff's car. Now, the turn was perfectly legal, just a little close for his comfort. He followed my turn, lights flashing, siren yelping. Oh shit. I pulled to the side of the road, rolled down my window and felt like I was in the middle of a really bad episode of LAPD Blue (if it existed). I handed over my NY Driver's license and confessed that I had been lost, was just following my portable GPS, and was a dumb newly transplanted New Yorker. I like to think that my winning smile, accompanied by my pathetic rendition of the truth (my car's so new it doesn't even have license plates yet), and the fact that I didn't actually do anything illegal, led this imposing man to let me off with a warning.
"You won't do anything this stupid ever again, now will you, M'am?"
"No, sir."
As penance, I paid way too much for parking behind the theater.
