Sidewalk Superheroes

I think I’ve been forgetting to mention that Superman’s finally back out on a regular basis. He seemed to have gone MIA for a bit during the holidays, or only stopping by to talk. On my last day of work last year, he walked by in street clothes, the only time I’ve ever seen him “normal.” It was very unsettling.

Anyway, yesterday was a pretty okay day. It was Catwoman’s first in her warm weather costume, Wonder Woman. I stuck it out in my PVC Batgirl, because damnit, I just fixed her up! Heat wave be damned, I’m going to use her before summer comes in. But at least Superman had a great suggestion for a cool costume for me: Zatanna Zatara. *sigh* I know I’ll have to explain this one:

Have you played Justice League Heroes? She’s in it. She’s actually pretty awesome in it, I played her the most when my sister and I tackled the game over the summer. (For the record, my little sis and I are probably the hottest geek sisters in Southern California. We went on a massive booze run one night to a nearby Ralph’s and let it slip to the bag boy that we were having a Mystery Science Theater 3000/Cinematic Titanic marathon night, and he followed us to the car. Ever since then he’s blushed and sighed and asked which episodes we’ve watched recently.) Anyway, it’s a dead easy costume to put together, and as Catwoman pointed out, even if no one gets it, they’ll still think “Hot magician girl!” and want photos. All I’d need on top of the costume is some easy magic tricks, and I’m set.

So yes, yesterday. We teamed up with Superman, which always helps business. He’s not afraid to nicely go after people who try to stiff us, something we still need to get better at. When we’re posing for the photo one of us will give the spiel, and sometimes there’s that fake laugh, that “Ha ha, like I’m going to pay you, dumbass.” But he’ll just step forward, point to some bills he’s palmed, and say, “Folks, we do work for tips,” sternly but nicely. For some reason, he works that, and we get paid. It’s nice. So we worked for a while, had a chocolate/lemonade/smoothie break, and sat in a stairwell. Catwoman has the picture, it’s very interesting.

There was also a new little bit of Wonderdrama. I’ve mentioned a new woman out there that does Wonder Woman, and she’s usually so sweet. I gave her my boot supplier to try and help her out. Anyway, she’s a larger black lady. Normally this wouldn’t matter, which is why I didn’t think to bring it up before, but now it becomes a little more important. She sees Catwoman in her new WW outfit, and saunters over.
“You new here?”
“Um, no, I’ve been here a while,” Catwoman says. “This is my first day as Wonder Woman, though.”
“Mm. Well, you may not know this, but I’m the Wonder Woman here, okay? You can’t be doing this” — finger waggle — “because that’s mine. There’s fifty Batmans and Catwomans, but only one Wonder Woman, okay?” Suddenly this very sweet woman had become scary, like a MUNI bus driver at the end of her rope. Superman and I try to say something, but she looks ready for a fight and we’re not going to open our mouths to get Catwoman jumped. I would have loved to have said, “Actually, honey, we’ve been here longer than you have, and you have no grounds for saying this. We can all be whoever the hell we want, and you can’t do shit about it.” But if my parents have taught me one thing, it’s to not start shit with someone twice your size, with fingernails twice as long and the ability to jump you from behind. I mean, they never said it in so many words, but the lesson has been learned.
“Maybe I’m just a little cranky today,” now scary Wonder Woman briefly conceded, “my kid ran away from home.” We were shocked and gave our condolences, but she didn’t seem to hear or care, and moved off with Dumpster Vader. Later on in the day she was gesticulating and bitching with a Star Line guide that we’d recently befriended, and he hasn’t said a word since, so I figure we’ve lost him. But seriously, what are you gonna do? It may suck, but the boulevard is a perfect example of the free market. If you want to do well, you’ve got to be the best. If you’re not . . . oh well.

There’s two things that made yesterday really interesting, though only one was entertaining. To me, at least. The first was that White Mike showed up and was apparently drunk. He seemed belligerent and very unlike his usual self, or at least the side we’d always seen before. He also said he was drunk. He and his friend had apparently split a bottle of something before coming over, I didn’t hear what, but it must have been pretty strong, because he was bizarre for hours.

This in and of itself isn’t anything all that great, or even noteworthy. From what we’ve heard, drunk characters are nothing new. The Captain (Captain America) used to do it all the time. Speaking of the devil, we mentioned to someone that we hadn’t seen him in a while, and they said he was in jail. Huh. But back to the topic at hand, what makes this event stand out was the fact that something else happened. On that day, of all days, two hipster girls decided to unfurl a little piece of art they’d made and see what happened. This piece of art happened to be a painting of Michael Jackson dangling his infant over the balcony railing, with the faces cut out so people could pose as MJ and the baby. This set White Mike off, and he went over to confront the girls:

“Don’t think I won’t tear that shit up,” he said before heading over. What happened next was anything but. He just stood there and talked to one of the girls for a bit, and didn’t seem angry at all. Catwoman took a little video and I snapped some pictures, but damn Dollhouse Guy showed up and kept sticking his ugly mug in them. How does he always know when shit’s happening? It’s not like he’s unnoticeable in his ridiculous outfits, so how does he keep materializing at the right times? He must have sold his soul for that power. Finally, White Mike’s done talking, and he insists I take a picture of him with the girls and the art and email it to him. It’s very important, for some reason.

The girls are smart and don’t back down to White Mike, and to rub it into his lily white skin a bit further, Superman decides to pose in the cutout. Wonder Woman followed:

Shortly after that, a family with a baby ambled by, and Superman talked them into posing in the cutout:

It was pretty hilarious, and I hope it helped the girls out. I don’t know if they were working for tips, or just for fun, but they had said at one point that they mainly just wanted people to pose. Guess having some superheroes and a Gerber baby around never hurts.

The second entertaining thing to happen, which really wasn’t very entertaining at all, was that I have another “boyfriend.” This one is Old Boyfriend. He was the tour driver that offered to take Catwoman and I out a few weeks ago, but the boss said no “for insurance reasons.” He’d said hi once or twice since then, but today he reappeared and gave us each a print of pictures he’d taken with us. For some reason he likes picking up the costumed ladies and having our picture taken that way, but he doesn’t hold us in a very flattering way, so it’s 65% ass in the picture. Maybe he likes it that way. Anyway, he first asked if I was new, and when he realized who I was, I got my picture. Catwoman/Wonder Woman shot me a “What the hell?” look, and tried to get out of taking her copy by saying she had nowhere to put it. We were getting ready to leave by that point for an appointment, but he didn’t know that.

A moment later, as we’re saying our goodbyes to Superman, Vader and Storm Trooper, Old Boyfriend comes over and says, “Can I talk to you for a minute?” I say okay and step aside, and he pulls out a pen and flips the picture of us over.
“I’m gonna need your number. I’d like to take you out to dinner sometime.” Fuck. There’s something you must know about me at this point. I’m a woman of words, as you may know, and I know how to defend myself verbally. I’ve never lost a verbal fight and pretty much always have something snappy to say. It’s my self defense. But when I’m really thrown off guard, then my brain shuts down. Being asked out by anyone shuts me down when I’m single. When I have a boyfriend, it’s easy, and I don’t feel bad because I’m not lying. But when something comes out of left field like that, I don’t know what to do. I feel cornered. And, of course, everyone else was busy talking elsewhere, so I was left high and dry. I wrote my first name and number, not being able to think of a legitimate looking fake number fast enough (I’m still on San Francisco area number recognition), cringing all the while. Hopefully, he would walk off and lose the picture or forget about it before ever calling or asking.
“So what are you doing tomorrow night?” he asks. Double fuck!
“Working here,” I answered. Hah!
“Okay, I’ll come by and pick you up when I’m off.” Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! Why aren’t my wits working? Cutting my losses, I walked away and rejoined the group. My shoulders were slumped and my pretty yellow boots dragged the ground.
“What happened?” Storm Trooper asked.
“I got asked out!” I whined, pulling out my best pout. They all cringed and offered their condolences.
“This is what you should’ve done,” Superman said, pulling me aside. “He does this with all the new girls. Now what you should have done, you should have just told him you have a thing with me.”
“He probably knows you’re married,” I pointed out.
“My wife and I have an agreement,” he reminded me. That was an interesting conversation. “And I have an agreement with all the girls on the boulevard: if any guy is ever messing with you or asks you out and you’re not comfortable with it, just tell ’em you’re having a thing with me, and I’ll back you up. If they come ask me about it, I’ll say yes.” Oh great, now he tells me! Well, future reference.
“I should have given him a fake number,” I lamented.
“Yes, you should have,” he said.

Catwoman/Wonder Woman and I left after that, and went to some strange audition/interview/sign up for Zannel. I was her living prop. It went well, so I went home and made my own account. We’ll see what happens. Feel free to follow along, if you like. If you’re addicted to the Bat. 😉

We went our separate ways, and I went home to have a nice, extended coughing fit. At least I found my cough syrup, but I texted Catwoman to let her know I’d be going in late because I needed to rest. It was taking forever to settle down since I couldn’t stop coughing. My abs are actually sore today from all the coughing, and I do 50 crunches every morning! So we met up at the boulevard. I don’t think I missed much, and it didn’t seem like I missed much business in the half hour or so between her coming on and me coming on.

But before I could even hit the boulevard . . . *sigh* I hate this. I ran up to the second floor to use the bathroom after parking, and as I was walking away, I thought I heard someone call my name. Not Batgirl, my real name. I keep going because I don’t recognize the voice, but I hear it again. Turning, Old Boyfriend accosts me. Fuck to the nth power.
“How you doin’?” he asks, giving me the once over.
“I’m sick,” I say, seeing a way out of this mess.
“Oh yeah?” I nod, and a real fit of coughing overcomes me. Is it wrong to pray for tuberculosis? At least it’s easily curable these days.
“You okay?” he asks, looking vaguely concerned. Since dropping the bomb on me yesterday, his main look has been predatory, no exaggeration. It’s like he’s looking for the first opening to shove into.
“I’m doped up on medicine,” I say. I had taken my cough syrup and packed it in the car, so I could run down and dose up if I needed to.
“Well, at least it’s not cold today,” he said.
“I get overheated and cough more,” I gasp out between coughs. Honestly, you old dirty bastard, let me go!
“That’s too bad. Hey, I was thinkin’ tonight that I could take you out to dinner. We’d have to take the bus. I need to get my transportation back.” Oh, AWESOME. So not only is a man older than my father, maybe old enough to be my grandfather, trying to sneak his way down my pants, but he’s trying to woo me by making me take the bus to dinner? Holy Christ. I’ve had some broke, loser boyfriends because I like the artists, but none of them was ever that pathetic. This man should have a house and a car at his age, unless he knocked off and sold everything to travel the world or have some other sort of life changing crisis. He shouldn’t be picking up on 20somethings and acting like a sexual predator.
“I’ll have to see how I feel,” I say as nicely as I can. I’m trying to not be mean, but every second it’s getting harder and harder.
“Well, I’ll come find you after I get off and we can get going,” he said. “I’ll let you go work.” And I left. Honestly! I don’t know much about the man’s side of courtship because I’ve never tried to seduce a lady (I don’t have to try, hah!), but doesn’t a basic concern for her feelings and welfare enter into it?

I go out to the boulevard and tell Superman and Catwoman (still as WW) what just happened.
“And I couldn’t even tell him we have a thing,” I said to Superman, “because it’d just sound fake coming out now.”
“We’ll think of something,” he said.

And so we worked. Business was good. In two hours I’d made what I ended up making all day yesterday, so we took another lemonade and chocolate break. Today we sat on the patio and played tag with a family, and it was overall a pleasant day. Lots of filming going on, for some reason, and I didn’t really take pictures. There was a Japanese (I think) TV show filming, and it was just some guy in a suit and tails with a top hat and a THANK YOU sash across his chest. He would just stand there and either thank whoever walked by for walking, drinking water, chewing gum, whatever they were doing, or he would wait to be approached and thank the person for asking why they were being thanked. Very strange, very Japanese. Of course, all the panhandler characters had to get their screen time. Miss Unidentifiable and Business Suit Zorro, Old Lucy, Elmo and Big Bird, and even Charlie Chaplain got in on it. That must have been annoying to the crew.

Later on a student came by filming us talking about uploading pictures to MySpace, and Superman and Catwoman got a little scared because they’re SAG. It was just for his grade, or so he said, so I had to keep saying, “They just don’t want to get in trouble, you’re okay.” Though he should know that, being a film student and all. Then another film crew came by looking for an interview, and asked if any of us was non-union, no SAG or AFTRA. I was free, so I got interviewed. It’s going to be on thestream.tv, and will apparently be on the Monkey News Source show. At least, from what I can remember. Anyway, I had to film my disclaimer saying it was okay to use my footage, blah blah, and then the interviewer told me what would be happening. I would get to say goodbye to George W. Bush, and since it was Internet only, I could swear and say whatever I wanted. Sweet!

So I did. I’m not going to write down what I said, because that would ruin the video itself. I also got to say hello to new President Obama (YES!), and he asked about my costume and stuff. We’ll see how much actually survives editing, but it was a fun five minutes and entertaining. People seem to love superheroes swearing. Ah, I knew not getting that third and final SAG voucher would pay off. 😉

Shortly afterward Catwoman had to go. Vader and Storm Trooper appeared out of costume to shoot the breeze, which is nice. I like it when they come to visit, since I don’t work with them anymore (for now), and they’re always busy when they’re in costume. Good, they deserve it. Anyway, we’re talking, and Old Boyfriend comes up, ready to go ride that Metro bus to god knows where and try and rape me.
“You feelin’ better?” he asks.
“No, I’m worse. I need my medicine,” I say.
“You should take some aspirin.”
“I don’t have any.” I also never take aspirin, but I don’t really care to discuss that with him at this point.
“I have some in the van, I’ll get you some,” he says, and rushes off.
“You guys, you gotta help me!” I plead, truly desperate. Superman watches Old Boyfriend, and says, “Walk with me. Casually.” We begin to walk, and at any moment I expect to feel a tap on the shoulder and those calculating, beady eyes watching for an opening. But Superman’s watching Old Boyfriend and we make it to the other end of the block without him seeing where we went. Vader and Storm Trooper follow for a little bit, then drop back to talk to some other characters. I’d wanted to say goodbye to them, but I figured they’d understand my desperate need to get away. Thankfully, Old Boyfriend didn’t think to wander around or circle the block. Business was dead at the other end, but I was about ready to leave anyway. I didn’t like the sexual predator being loose after hours and I was okay with the money I’d made by then.

But then Superman spotted a girl with a giant pink heart.
“Who do you love?” he called out. She opened the heart to reveal a message and a picture.
“Oh yeah, I’ve worked with him and met him a few times,” Superman said, and regaled the girl with stories of her crush. She asked if he was nice, what he was like in person, and Superman carefully answered to keep her happy.
“Why don’t you take a picture with us and the sign?” he asked. She seemed a bit flustered, and I don’t know that she even had a camera on her, but I was just waiting for an excuse at this point.
“I’ll take it,” I offered.
“Oh! Okay,” she said, still startled.
“If you go to Flickr, it’ll be up there,” I told her, so she could at least have a copy for herself.

After the girl and her heart had moved off, I told Superman I was going. He wanted to take a break anyway, and offered to walk me to the elevators. I didn’t realize it until just now, but he was more likely than not watching my back, since it was at those elevators this morning that Old Boyfriend cornered me. So we walked and planned on meeting up to work tomorrow, and we met a group of kids prowling for the Jonas Brothers. Apparently, the band was in town and lurking somewhere nearby, and the kids were hoping to score some autographs. Glad the band didn’t come near us. I can’t stand that crap.

So there was yesterday and today. Superman has saved my bacon, for which I’ll be eternally grateful. And tomorrow, if Old Boyfriend is around, I’m just going to say flat out that he’s being too pushy and rude for me and I’m completely put off. I mean, not that I was remotely on to begin with, but now I can’t even be nice or friendly to him. He’s not acting like he really likes me and would like a chance, it’s so much more stalker-ish and predatory. It’s creepy and feels so wrong on every level, and I need to stop this now before it gets ugly or really scary. I’m already past the startled and trying to be nice phases, now I’m in the “this needs to stop NOW, before I report you to someone” phase.

*sigh* I really wish some non-creep would like me for a change.