| Jul. 6th, 2005 @ 03:08 pm Don't tell my wife... |
|---|
Demeanor:  geeky
Car Reactions: Garrett flagged me down for photos, and the Pink Lady below
I wait alone, facing westward at an oddly unoccupied intersection on Hollywood Boulevard. Despite the heat and mid-afternoon sun, the streets are in shadow, shrouded by the run-down buildings of a more romantic era.
The dingy and vacant street to the north is suddenly overpowered by the shimmering pink bubblegum glow of the lone Corvette that has rolled to a stop there. Behind tinted windows, a blond patiently waits for the light -any light- to change. Both of our vehicles are out of place here, though for different reasons.
For the briefest of moments, our eyes meet; two strangers cloaked in dark glasses. Though she may not know me, her reputation has preceded her by decades. I nod my head in recognition; she lowers her sunglasses and smiles in acknowledgement.
Our eyes part as we furtively examine the lines of each other's vehicles, hoping to take everything in before traffic resumes its course. Inevitably the light does change, on her side; she begins to complete her left turn, an agonizingly slow and gentle curve as she passes within inches.
With hand raised to mouth, she blows a kiss and is gone, receding in my side mirror, her name reflected there in the patriotic colors of her inverted license plate.
Angelyne...
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