There are certain moments, even in LA, where the phrase "I've seen it all" has absolutely no bearing on the situation at hand. Especially when it involves your own kin.

Nine months of living in the freakiest neck of the Holly'woods, and you think you're ready for just about anything. Each weekday morning around 10 or so, my boyfriend and I voluntarily drive down Hollywood Boulevard to marvel at the beginning of an average workday for the competing Batmans, Spidermans, Wonder Womans and Jack Sparrows, the shifty eyed tour bus drivers waiting to fill up their tie-dyed double deckers, the holy-rollers unrolling their canvasses for God. All of them doing one big power yawn before the clock starts.

Before the real madness sets in, we've already turned onto Highland.

This morning, we never made it to Highland Avenue.

This morning, the barrier between Human and Hollywood Boulevard was broken. Imagine going to the zoo with a loved one and then being led lovingly into the lion's den. Then imagine that this lion is actually your...well, you'll see.

This morning, my boyfriend Ryan and I left the apartment at 8:30 to meet his friend for an absurdly early breakfast. We chugged our way up to Hollywood Blvd. and dashed out onto the near-empty street headed to the restaurant. That's when Ryan began to act very strange.

"Don't you love Hollywood in the morning? All these crazy characters?" he asked. I looked around at the empty sidewalks.

"Who are you talking to?" I asked in a decidedly sour tone. His voice sounded robotic. "Dude, it's 8:30. No one's even out yet," I said. Not even Spiderman. And he was the only early bird you could count on.

"Hey, look at this guy! Let's buy a Star Map!" Ryan said with glee. To my horror, he began to pull the car in the direction of a tall man wearing a scraggly, bleached blond wig and a plastic makeshift necktie and waving a poster that read "STAR MAPS $10." The car seemed to move in slow motion towards this hideous figure gyrating in full-bodied humiliation in front of the Jimmy Kimmel Theatre. The man was visibly ecstatic as soon as we approached (I'm pretty sure he was doing a combination of jumping and dancing and as much wig and poster wiggling as he could), which must have made my passenger side arrival close to unbearable.

This is where I entered the lion's den.
 
One part of me was terrified that this wacked-out map seller was about to kill me. There was no time for questions at this point as I looked at Ryan and demanded money for whatever reason he wanted to purchase exorbitantly priced Star maps. Laughing, he just rolled down MY window. My jaw dropped. Outside, the ratty blonde wig hovered and bobbed and a raspy, Bozo-ish voice came at me: "Hey, Star Maps, whoa girl! Yeah you want em'! Hey Stars are everywhere. Maps yo!"

I looked at Ryan, my rat bastard boyfriend, one more time for help. He was still laughing and pointing at this madman. Finally he nodded his head down in momentary seriousness, gesturing me to look at the man's face.

It was the teeth I noticed first. Only because he'd gotten them done a bit ago. And perhaps the eyes that I could recognize under any pair of Ray Bans (especially during an ear-to-ear "gotcha" grin).

My Dad totally got me on my own damn turf. He had flown in the day before on business and conspired with my boyfriend for four days prior over email. Together, they plotted the perfect way to get me feeling like an LA infant all over again.

Thanks Dad! And Ryan!

I am a bit worried about my father's choice of careers. Since he decided to leave Atlanta as a highly paid and respected malpractice lawyer for Alston & Bird and hit the map selling biz in WeHo, we can imagine things are a little tight. Just to give you some perspective...

JUDSON GRAVES (then), circa 2005 

esteemed lawyer, revered father and husband, occasional church-goer

JUDSON GRAVES (now), photo taken a few hours ago

Amateur Star map dealer on Hollywood Blvd, couch stealer of youngest daughter, occasional go-go dancer