It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving, our second day on Hollywood Boulevard and the day of the Hollywood Christmas Parade, which would step off at the corner of Hollywood and Highland. We showed up a bit earlier, since the characters we had met the day before said that mornings are usually the best time for making money, and wandered around a bit. Still dressed as Holly and Eliza, we earned a lot of admiring looks and loads of people sniping pictures when we weren’t looking, but still no one seemed to want to really photograph with us. We were cool, but we weren’t that cool. Still, business was improving from the day before, and there was still a lot to look at and absorb.
We spent a lot of the day just walking up and down the block, from Highland to Orange and back again, trying to grab the attention (and hopefully business) of all of the tourists and extra locals hovering about. There was supposed to be a big block of entertainment right in front of the Chinese Theatre from noon until the parade started, but it ended up being a load of crap Disney kids bands gyrating obscenely and trying to make it big. It was appalling, honestly, and the music was terrible. I saw a few teenage girls walking around with posterboard and glitter signs for one of the bands and considered asking them if they’d been paid to wave them. I just couldn’t believe anyone would take that god-awful drivel passing as music seriously. It also pulled out a lot of kids, and kids don’t know who Audrey Hepburn is. We did get a few moms who loved our costumes and forced their kids to take pictures with us, which wasn’t too bad.
But with crowds come the crazies. While the day before had been mild, even for a weekend, the draw of thousands of extra people with money and the news vans filming all over the place, the weirdos began to show. There was a relatively harmless older fellow who played guitar while whistling on the sidewalk, and while he was nice, he only seemed to know two songs. No one seemed to care for what he was playing, though, and avoided him. He started following us around, which further pushed business away from us. To make matters worse, Dollhouse Guy appeared. Apparently he is pretty well-known on the Boulevard, and he really is called Dollhouse Guy. I noticed the miles too big green jacket with that title painted on the back (in what looked like white poster paint) and wondered why. He and the guitarist got along and Dollhouse would make up bawdy lyrics to the two songs the guitarist knew. After we’d finally shaken them both, we turned around to find Dollhouse Guy, with a large dollhouse on his head, gyrating on the ground next to the stage set up for all those crap Disney kids. Oh, so that’s how he got his name. (more…)
