Reality

We went to go visit a friend of Drew’s that lives by Hollywood Blvd. He lives upstairs and the elevator there is one of those old ones that you open the door and pull back the gate. Cute for those old timey apartments. But not so cute when your wheelchair won’t fit in it. I’ll admit it really has been awhile since I’ve faced issues like these for me. It makes me want to fight to get building codes changed and immediately go into pitbull mode. Maybe that’s just the bitch in me, or the over-protective friend. Drew just laughs it off and gives LA credit for being very handicap accessible, even more so than other cities in America. I’ll admit, he’s a lot more forgiving than me.

So while he is visiting with his friend Melissa and I are walking around outside. On Hollywood Blvd are several of the “stars”. Out of habit I take a picture or two. Right as I’m doing that, this guy walks out of Popeyes and laughs at me. “You must be a tourist.” Trying to hide my very obvious southern accent, I give him a cold “Eat Shit” look and explain that no I am not a tourist, I’m simply trying to get footage for a documentary. As soon as he turns the corner, I grab Melissa to take my picture under the Hollywood sign. Am I that transparent? I really hope not. Otherwise my reality is that I will get eaten up alive out here.

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