“Here’s my ticket, how much?”
I’m outside the Standard in Hollywood, eager to vacate. I left a crappy party 20 minutes ago, and all I want is my car back.
I hand my ticket to a valet and look down to check my Blackberry.
“Uhhh, I don’t actually work here.”
I feel kind of silly. “Sorry man, my mistake.”
I walk away laughing a little. In all fairness, the guy WAS wearing a red satin vest and matching bowtie. Tip: If you don’t want to be mistaken for the valet, don’t dress like you’re playing one in a silent film.
I’m in the middle of my private chucklefest when I bump smack into another red-vested dude. Hmm… he’s wearing the same outfit as the other guy…
“Excuse me, can you get my car, or—
“Nah man – do I look like I work here?”
Am I retarded? I glance around and notice folks in red uniforms practically swarming the lobby.
It occurs to me I might be on a hidden camera show, until I realize Ashton Kutcher could care less about me than high school algebra.
I stroll toward three nuclear blondes commiserating by the empty valet booth. They seem overly done up – even by Hollywood standards. But we are at the Standard… in Hollywood… so…
“Hi, do any of you know where the valet is?
These girls look at me with a stare so vacant I could rent a room. Wow.
I spot a Seth Rogen look-a-like posted up by the door. He’s wearing a white leisure suit and looks 100 times more amiable than these blowup dolls. I float past the sea of vapidity and approach him instead.
“Hate to ask,” I start, “but do you work here by any chance?”
He laughs. “Um, not exactly.”
Dammit. I’m ready to pack it in and walk home. But suddenly, there’s a little bald man with a headset darting through the double doors behind me. PA’s with walkie talkies scatter like roaches in the foyer.
“Could everyone please clear out of the shot? Thank you! Thank you!”
Reality smacks me in the face with an eighty pound boom mic.
Actually, a boom mic really almost hit me. I am on a fucking movie set.
Those guys in vests? Actors.
Those overdressed, high attitude blondes? Actresses.
That Seth Rogen look-a-like in the leisure suit?
Seth has been observing my slowly developing epiphany, chuckling. I don’t blame him. I must look like a total dumbass.
“ROLL SOUND….AND… ACTION!!”
You’ve got to be kidding. That happened way too fast – I didn’t even have a chance to move.
Somehow, the little bald guy completely missed me. And I am now in a movie.
I quickly look down at my Blackberry and frantically begin checking non-existent e-mails. I am invisible. I am invisible.
A wide-lens Panavision camera swings down 10 feet in front of my head and a movie scene unfolds. I’m watching it all like its on TV…
Seth Rogen walks purposefully past me and the blondes chatter with exaggerated gestures as a stretch Hummer pulls up in the courtyard. A valet opens the door…
The scene is over. Seth ambles back to his mark. I am frozen in time.
“Dude,” he says to me on his way back. “If they don’t catch you in post, you should totally sue.”
I am Jack’s speechless larynx.
I cock my head back as if to say, “Yes. I am a moron.”
If you see Green Hornet next summer and happen to notice an out-of-place jackass in a blue blazer with a valet ticket, let me know.
And put it on IMDB for me.
Update: Commenters’ suggestions this post is a publicity stunt for a movie are highly comical to me. If only this were true and I were lining my pockets with Green Hornet loot. In fact, if you are a publicist for this movie, please send me a check.
Update 2: As a side note, I should plead guilty to hyperbole and clarify that I wasn’t fall down wasted when I went to get my car from the valet, as the headline implies. But “I had a drink or two at a cocktail party and stupidly wandered onto a film shoot with Seth Rogen in a hotel driveway whilst looking for the valet and proceeded to go unnoticed because my outfit blended in with the background actors” didn’t have quite the same ring.
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