This is my first blog of what could be many a blog or a complete failure. Either way, I feel like I find myself in enough odd situations living here in the City of Angels that they need to be shared with the world. One incident in particular has inspired me to start this blog and so, naturally, I'm going to share.
Today I was walking 'round my neck of the woods and, by the ventura blvd/van nuys intersection, some guys shouted at me from their car. I briefly glanced over with every intention of ignoring them as I normally do but the one in the passenger seat asked me, in a thick accent, for directions. I have a few friends who think I'm "too nice". I think that's generally a load of bull but then I find myself in awkward situations such as this..
So I indulge the man and ask where he is trying to go. He pulls out a pad of paper with all sorts of random places listed and points to "TGI Friday". I told them I don't know where one is in the area to which point he ask if I'm from around. I tell him I'm generally familiar but I don't know where there is a TGIF. Then he tries to ask me where the beach is. Now, at this point, the light has long turned green and they are holding up traffic in the right hand turn lane and people are being generally patient and I am trying to get rid of them. So as I stand there awkwardly, people finally start to honk so they pull into the gas station.
The two guys get out and one immediately lights a smoke. Let me just take a moment to describe these two really quickly.. the driver was a beer bellied, creepy guy wearing a velvet or cord jacket. I didn't look at him long enough to notice. The other guy looked like a Jersey Shore Guido, complete with slicked hair and a shirt way too tight. Anyway, the Guido tells creepy guy to put out his smoke and then asks me, "isn't it illegal to smoke at a gas station in America?". I responded with a simple, "Only if you don't want to blow up and die". Granted, he was standing on the sidewalk smoking but it was still too close for comfort for me.
So then I proceed to write directions down on the notepad to the beach, Malibu to be exact. This is the conversation that follows (as best as I understood/can remember).
Guy1: So you work around here?
Me: In the area..
Guy1: What do you do?
Me: I work in film.
Guy1: In porno?!
Me: God, no!
Guy1: But isn't this where the porn stars are? [Blahblah], didn't [Blahblah] say this is where the porn stars are?
Guy2: Yes *smoke smoke*
Me: Umm.. well its just an industry joke. I mean.. they film porn here but..
Guy1: We are looking for the porn stars. I am sorry, I offended you. *to other guy* I think she's upset.
Me: Where exactly are you trying to go?
Guy1: To find the porn stars. First they tell us Sepulveda, then they tell us Venice beach. I don't know.
Me: Well, Sepulveda is a road over there *point*
Guy1: Will it take me to the beach?
Me: It can but the freeway is faster.
Guy1: We need to get to Venice beach. We were hired to film the porno.
Me: Umm okay...
At this point I scribbled down directions and got ready to run for my life. Then I get this lovely question...
Guy1: So can I have your number? We might get lost and need directions.
Me: I'm not giving you my number. You can stop and ask for directions again.
Guy1: But I don't think anyone will be as nice as you.
Me: Probably not. So good luck with that.
Guy1: Are you going to work?
Me: Um, no.
Guy1: Where are you going? Do you need a ride?
Me: I'm fine, thanks.
Then he said something that I can't remember that I believe was completely DEVOID of any accent. Its vague because I was already running away.
I'm not sure if this was A) a lengthy way of trying to get my number, B) a "sly" way of trying to get me to star in a porno with them, C) an attempt at raping/killing me, or D) all of the above.
I suspect D.
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