WRITER - The Tyee -
Little David in Hollywood
In which our intrepid local talk show host braves the rigors of big-time, big money American Television to pitch an idea for a new show. Herein, some random impressions of Alex in Wonderland.
“We didn’t come out to die of lung cancer.”
Huh?
The photo on the billboard high above Olympic Blvd. offers two handsome young men in warm embrace. It takes several read-throughs to absorb. We didn’t come out, we didn’t…ah! The tag line is “1-800-BUTT-OUT.” Write your own bad jokes, pal. This is L.A.
On the flight out of YVR, the nylon briefcase is X-rayed, then frisked, and the credit-card-sized multi-tool kit (forgotten in a sleeve, never used) is confiscated. The belt is undone (BIG, BIG buckle) and the shoes are removed. The punk with the skateboard cellphones all the way through ramp up, and when advised by the flight attendant in the ever so nicest way, that his very most important call must now end, he argues with her, closing with, “Oh, yeah? Well, the cigarette with the slash through it should be a cell, eh?”
Later, back where the washrooms and the hot coffee so cleverly co-mingle, the flight attendant, whose name is Caroline, agrees that it is astonishing that an Airbus 319 cruises at 37,000 feet. Does everybody take everything for granted these days? She is definitely old school – Irish father, Italian mother, and she detests the ubiquitous lack of quality and gentility in “the current generation,” no specific skateboarders in 19D mentioned.
All the drivers of town cars in Beverly Hills are Romanian. Go explain. They’ve arrived in dribs and spits, Papa, then Uncle, then me. They love the weather and they love the opportunity to diss all the Spanish-speaking workers, which includes, of course, everyone in the hotel – front desk, laundry, breakfast room, bar. “Ten thousand a night they come here! Sleep 10 to a room, and then they all buy one rickety, old gas-guzzler. Terrible!”
“People here are phony, Mister. Talk, talk, talk, always about nothing. It’s all business. Of course, at the hotel they smile at you. You think they are very nice, sure. Then the moment you are gone, miserable!”
And if they don’t talk (and they do, they really do!), then they gawk. Los Angeles is definitely Gawksville. Everybody is casing everybody else all the time. Hey, you might be somebody. Maybe you were somebody; maybe you’ll be somebody. Hollywood understands the compression of Time. There is only the Now. Ask Billy Crystal. Four years out of the Oscars and people think he’s died. Hail Chris Rock!
At Nate ‘N Al’s Deli, they gawk. At ABC/Disney, they gawk. You’re not in jeans and carrying a take-out coffee, they really gawk. You just came from the 10th floor, they’re ready to drive you home, carry your notes, recommend restaurants, show you the Santa Monica Pier.
At ABC/Disney, the Man with the Corner Office has two secretaries and a ping pong table. There are many paddles on the first of many sofas. The Man is charming, soft-spoken and a killer. He didn’t get the corner office by accident. He loves Vancouver. “Great place to shoot. Wonderful crews. What’s that studio out by Costco? Acting pool is a little soft, but that’ll come.” He is intrigued by our presentation and concludes our 45 minutes at the top of PowerLand with, “Look, I’ll run this around some folks here in the office, but if this isn’t an ABC project, I’ll show it to my friend, Nick, at A & E.” His friend, Nick, is the President of A & E.
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