The Millennial matted haired blonde tweaker roller skated through the cars without a care for the chaos she caused the East Hollywood traffic backing up Beverly Blvd. for nearly a mile.

It wasn’t her skeletal form nor the beige vest that all the Meth freaks wear out here, a sort of weird reminder that East Hollywood is still a district in a desert town and the proper camouflage is needed, causing the cars to crawl along. Nor was it her totally tatted up body causing the clichéd LA bottleneck – everyone out here seems to let tattoo artists loose on every centimeter of their once virgin flesh.

No. It was the bright yellow kite with a smiley face she was flying.

I suddenly find myself in Dire Straits frame of mind. I wonder if she knows a DJ playing movies all night long.