Sidewalk Superheroes

I’m going to mix Saturday and Sunday together, mainly because I can’t remember everything. I went to a party Saturday night and got drunk, stayed out ’til 5, then got up at 7 for work. I did remarkably well for usually having to have at least 4 hours of sleep every night, but as you can tell, my memory suffers.

So last weekend it was fairly busy. Still slower than other years, when the economy was better, but like every other part of Hollywood, there’s always something going on. We don’t talk to Superman as much now, because already it seems that he doesn’t work. I mean, he pays his rent and bills just fine and has plenty of cash left over to buy all those collectibles, but now he doesn’t even really pose or work the boulevard. He’ll just show up, pull a book or DVD from somewhere (seriously, I don’t know where!), and will show random people. He’ll talk about being on Jimmy Kimmel, make lewd comments to passing ladies, and sort of hurt our business in general. *sigh*

The Batdrama was still going strong, and the seeds for a new drama or two were being planted. On Friday afternoon a new face showed up, and she returned again Saturday and Sunday. We’ll call her Wonder Wig. She appeared in a fair to middling Wonder Woman outfit and a very frizzy, strange black wig. She later admitted that the wig had come with bangs and she had taken a curling iron to them, half melting the plastic. Well, she didn’t say she’d melted it, but I know cheap wigs and I know melted fake hair when I see it. Bat A, always blunt, flat out said, “You’re going to need to get a better wig,” and turned away.
“I know it needs some work,” she said defensively to me.
“Yeah, that’s just Bat A. He’s pretty abrupt in character,” I said by way of explanation. Still used to talking to the real him, it was strange to see him as gruff and uncommunicative when he was in the zone as Batman.

Catwoman and I felt a little bad for Wonder Wig, and kept her nearby as much as we could. Superman took her for a bit, but she always returned to us. There aren’t many ladies on the Walk, so we tend to stick together. Well, at least the ones who aren’t catty bitches who hate for no reason. Anyway, it was a very cold weekend last week, with the temperatures barely scraping the low 50s during daylight. By that time I was wearing two pairs of tights, knee high socks and two thermal shirts under my costume, and Catwoman had tights, a turtleneck and head to toe vinyl, and Wonder was only in her skimpy costume. Already, though, she was eyeing our costumes.
“I almost came out as Padmé,” she said, gesturing to me.
“It’s pretty good,” I admitted, “but it’s hard to get good business on my own. I really need Vader and Storm Trooper to make it really work. Bat A offered to be my Anakin some time, but he hasn’t yet.” He’d make a good Anakin.
“I like Catwoman, too,” she said, turning to Catwoman, “but I heard there was, like, five of them out here.”
“There were a couple when we first started,” Catwoman said, “but I think I’m the only one now.” There was Cheetah Girl, but she’s different enough for them to both work comfortably.

Throughout the weekend we tried to offer costume ideas for Wonder Wig to help her out. While there is no official rule saying only one person can be something (as shown by the three Bats), it’s a matter of politeness and consideration for others to do something different. Also, you cut into your own business and risk setting off someone potentially unstable by cutting into their territory. I’ll tell you about The Bleach Incident soon, and then you’ll see what I mean.

So we suggested all of the female superheroes we could think of, plus some female takes on classic heroes that we heard other girls had done, but who knows if she was even listening. Already, Wonder was beginning to be pushy and demanding, which should have sent up flags. When, oh when will I pay attention to those flags? By the end of her first day, she was telling me how to work the crowd. Very pushy.

By Sunday she was already breaking off on her own, which was a small relief to us. Bat M avoided us for a full ten minutes before caving in, and Homer Simpson got arrested:

It was all bullshit, and the cops let him go right away, but it was still a good indicator of how strange the day would end up being. Catwoman and I met up there, and some dancing show was filming international groups on the walk. We’re probably in the footage of every single group, but there was a great African choir:

A group from India, from Australia, and Shaolin monks who really loved Jason and Michael Myers:

I have no idea why that turned out so dark at high noon. Stupid camera phones. So it was a very full day with all these groups, on top of shaking Bat M after noon and slowly realizing that Wonder Wig was just going to use us for her own ends. We were invited to karaoke again with Davy and MJ, but Catwoman had to run some errands first. Feeling cold, hungry and tired, I decided to go home for a bit, since the singing never starts before 10 PM. Catwoman ended up begging off, since she was leaving early Tuesday morning for a holiday season with the family, so I headed out by myself. I met the two at the usual karaoke hangout, and everyone else ended up backing out, so it was just us three.

This is where it gets creepy. Karaoke was cancelled for the KROQ Acoustic Christmas afterparty (meh), so we didn’t know what to do with ourselves. Davy bought me a drink, a very strong margarita, and I must have lost a lot of weight since the last time I had a margarita, because I was tipsy afterwards. We played a game of billiards and ended up walking around the Universal City Walk. MJ and I sang Phantom of the Opera, he carried me on his back, we took loads of pictures on my camera, and we ended up back at the afterparty. The DJ was pretty good, doing good mashups, and we danced for a bit. But MJ kept grinding on me and getting pretty freaky, and Davy would just sit on a corner of the stage and watch. Then he took pictures. I was starting to get a little uncomfortable, and Davy kept asking if I wanted more drinks.

We walked around some more, thankfully, and I asked for everyone’s life stories. I know I’d heard nearly everyone’s by that time, but I was hoping for a little more truth this time around. They weren’t forthcoming on information, though, so I started to ask about Bat A. Davy got a bit sulky, and when I asked about Sexy Cop, he said, “Yeah, they’re married.”
“That explains why she hates me,” I said, covering my surprise. I had thought that she had her eyes on him, at most that they were dating, but never married. On A’s MySpace profile he lists himself as single, and she lists herself as in a relationship. They don’t even live together, though A just moved, and to see them interact, you’d just never guess it. Davy said something about doing stupid things in Vegas, and changed the subject.

Finally it was time to go home, and they insisted on walking me to my car. I’d rather they hadn’t, and it was a slightly awkward goodbye, with talk of making me come home with them (they live together). I was never so glad to leave as right then.

Ever since then, Davy’s been emailing, texting and haunting my MySpace profile every day. He’ll ask what I’m doing every day, nag me to send the pictures faster, though it’s not my fault his crap free Yahoo account can’t handle pictures, and as soon as something goes up on my profile, he’s commented on it. He talks about all of my blog posts, and now I have to go back to my more personal friends only posts and further filter them so he’s not reading everything about me. This is making me very uncomfortable. I’ve been stalked before, online and in real life, and his behaviour is raising my hackles the same way. I didn’t flirt with him at all or lead him on Sunday night, or give any sort of sign, so I don’t know why this started just now. I hate it because now it leads to awkwardness and drama where I really don’t need any. There’s enough already.