I was doing some window shopping today on a posh street that celebrities like to frequent. Hence, why I was window shopping. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one with my eye on things I had no business to be eyeing.
It was a nice day after the morning fog had cleared and I was strolling along when I got to a crosswalk. One of my many pet peeves about walking around in LA is that crossing the street is a bitch. It’s not like New York where you just look both ways and hustle across at will. Here, the streets are multi-laned, two-way and the drivers are unlikely to be paying attention (putting on makeup, talking to agents, petting their lapdogs, who knows why?), and I’ve heard people actually get tickets for jay walking. So, I was dutifully waiting for the cross signal when this car pulls forward a little ways onto the crosswalk. At that moment, my signal changes and I start walking. I’m barely one foot off the sidewalk when I hear “HELLO” coming from the driver. I ignore it, of course.
Then for the length of the crosswalk, this guy proceeds to try to get my attention by shouting at me through his open window. I don’t look back, but his zeal makes me start to wonder if I didn’t drop something or have a tear in my pants or if he was hopelessly lost and needed directions to the hospital or someplace equally important as to warrant his neediness. By the time I’m across the street and in a store, I’ve already forgotten all about it when lo and behold, I hear “HELLO” again. I look up from the rack of dresses, and it’s the guy. I guess he parked his car and followed me into the store. What made him do this I can not fathom, but he proceeded to apologize for yelling to me in the street, that must have seemed so rude to me, he said, and he was so very sorry. I tried to make as little eye contact as possible while communicating with a blank face, “Don’t worry about it, it’s ok.” In other words, “Go away, creep, this is not normal behavior”. He continued profusely apologizing, repeating his spiel a couple more times as I inched away from him slowly. I suppose he sensed forgiveness because his next move was to ask me, “So are you married?”
If I’d been in New York and not in a boutique when this happened, I’d surely have shouted “Seriously?! Are you for real? Get away from me!” but under the circumstances, I mumbled “I’m not available”, to which he replied “Oh, ok… Well, tell your boyfriend he’s a lucky man”. Yeah, ok, sure, I’ll do that… Creep.