I didn't even have to rent a billboard!
With my heart set on a quiet get-a-way - I steered my SUV north on Hwy 101 - in the direction of the lofty climbs of the romantic city by the bay (San Francisco).
Unlike LA LA LAND - where a mushroom cloud of nasty smog hovers overhead daily - fresh prevailing winds off the ocean breeze in - and in the process - effect therapeutic healing properties.
Within hours, my sinuses dried up, and I was able to breathe contentedly once again!
In Frisco, getting around the picturesque downtown core is a snap, too.
On the first starry night in town - I parked the car, tossed the ignition keys on a dresser in my hotel suite, and proceeded to piece together an ambitious game-plan designed to track down the rich historical remains of the unique city's golden past.
But, reality sunk in, when I ventured out for a steaming hot cup of Java & morning snack at the crack of dawn the following day.
Within minutes of biting into my scrumptous bagel slathered with high-protein gobs of peanut butter, I suddenly felt like that there were a thousand eyes on me!
As I turned and gazed up from my cozy perch at the side counter running the length of a sparkling-clean picture window that framed the bustling world floating by, I spied a handful of tourists, businessmen, and locals staring at me transfixed!
OMG!
Surprisingly, my mug appeared to be just as recognizable to strangers on the streets of San Francisco, as it is in my own neck-of-the-wood.
In fact, over the next few days, I was literally astounded by the reactions I encountered everywhere where I turned!
If I walked down a bustling street in the business district, for instance, passers-by zeroed in on me like flies on sh**.
Within seconds, they were nudging their pals in the ribs, or straining to alert their companions (with mouths awkwardly twisted half-closed in a surreptitious effort to conceal their whispers) that I was in their midst.
They reminded me of ventriloguists!
Some came to halt on the sidewalk, acted like they were checking their pocket for something, then proceeded to gaze after me as I headed down the street (as I pretended that I wasn't aware of the riot of emotions unfolding all around me).
In retail stores - faces froze, clerks chatted in hushed tones, and shoppers magically became glued to the polished parquette floors beneath their feet now burdensome dead-weights.
In clothing stores, stylists paid keen attention to the outfits on display that I scrutizined, and appeared to take mental notes.
In diners and variety stores, customers in line ahead of me, tended to step aside to allow me to go first.
Of course, I pooh-poohed the notion that I should get special treatment, and instructed those thoughtful few to "go ahead" as I ushered up a little bow of thanks (a gesture of respect Buddha-style).
On the one occasion that I drove to one location, I suddenly realized - too late - that I couldn't turn right on a red light on the downtown street.
To prevent myself from jutting out in front of traffic and pedestrians with the right-of-way, I put the gear in reverse, and backed up a few feet out of harm's way.
Wouldn't 'ya know it, passers-by spotted me in the driver's seat right away, and proceded to poke their friends and business associates as they gave me the old hairy eyeball.
I expect that in spite of the fact I have a perfect driving record (amazing considering how many years I have been behind the wheel of about eight different vehicles I have owned at one time or another) folks will be tittering (twittering, too) that I'm a dizzy driver.
Honest, I'm not.
But, don't worry, when the big bucks start rolling in, I'll hire a swanky limo to chauffeur me around!
Frankly, these days I am a bit overwhelmed by the instant fame, if you can call it that.
It's as if a major network has been broadcasting my photo over the airwaves - 24/7 - that's how recognizable I have become (the thought of which even stuns me).
If you want to become famous on sight, there are two ways to accomplish it.
Get on the nightly news or pen a high-profile controversial blog!
Why the nightly news?
Because I have experienced that phenomenon first hand.
Years ago, I was strolling down Santa Monica Boulevard, when I was witness to a drive-by shooting (a rare occurence in WeHo, believe me).
Shortly after the incident, I was chatting with a friend about what I witnessed, when a reporter from a local TV station approached me.
"You saw what happened?"
When I responded in the affirmative, he asked if I would agree to talk on camera about the incident.
"Sure, what the heck!"
Within minutes, the interview wrapped up, and I headed home to tuck in for the evening.
The next morning, when I pulled up to a pump at a gas station to fill up my tank, two Sheriff's driving by in a squad card gave me a thumbs up!
At first, I was startled by the gesture.
What the?
I looked over my shoulder to determine if they were waving to someone else behind me.
At this juncture, they laughed.
"We saw you on the news last night. Good job!"
Throughout the morning, everywhere I went, people would smile and blurt out:
"Heh, you're the guy from the news!"
Gosh, overnight, I had become a celebrity.
Why?
Because I was on the news, natch!
Apparently, CNN picked up the story, and it was being broadcast on the Network every thirty minutes or so throughout the evening.
Oy veh!
My current fame?
Well, it's decidedly more intense - so much so - that I'm afraid to pick my nose in public or walk out the door unshaved or without running a brush through my curly locks first.
Ubiquitous dark glasses don't help.
I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille!
