Monday, May 17, 2010

Hell hath no fury....

I can't really give all the details about why I was an accomplice to breaking and entering and vandalism, but I can tell the story. I didn't get caught, which was the beautiful part, but my partner in crime did, though I think she wanted to.
It started like this:
I was in another state, shooting a movie, and was approached at the wrap party by a sweet, buck toothed eighteen year old named Lara. She started with a lot of small talk about having been an extra for a few days on the movie. She flattered me with praise and called me a movie star, which made me laugh. Little did she know that I got paid about as much as she did.
She had a bit too much to drink and started sharing the gory details about the male lead, my co-star, and his rude and inappropriate conduct regarding their off the set liaisons. Evidently, she had visited his hotel room on a few occasions and was less than satisfied with her treatment following said visits. Basically, he screwed every girl that knocked on his door, and cut them loose like so many stray dogs. Lara didn't like that. She wanted to be special. I think she said she was a virgin before crossing his threshold and was out for revenge. Lara was one scorned female. I felt for her and commiserated the best I could. I, too, had developed an enormous crush on him from the beginning and was treated with such nonchalance that I soon grew secretly angry that he had so little regard for my obvious feelings.
After a little more conversation, Lara and I slipped away from the party and went to his room-which was across the parking lot-for what purpose, I wasn't sure. The windows were dark. He clearly wasn't home. I started to head back to the party when she slit the screen with a key and was opening the door and hurrying me in before I could react. She turned on the light and started going through his things, tearfully, and saying that she might love him and thought that he might have loved her, too, if she had been given a chance. She pulled all of his CD's out of their cases, snickering at his taste "heh, Bob Dylan..(pronounced dialin')". While she ransacked his room-mocking his underwear "heh, tightie whities..how gay..", emptying out the dresser drawers and tasting all of the juices in his refrigerator-I stood by the window watching for his approaching shadow, trying to figure out how I would explain my presence inside his hotel room with this lunatic were he to return in the midst of her rampage. This was my big break, after all. It was very early in my career. I didn't need anything scandalous quite yet. I had worked with my co-star for many weeks and found him to be an egomaniacal, self involved, competitive asshole that was lucky to have a career. I was very ready to go home the next day at seven a.m. never to deal with the macho shitheads that I had encountered on this movie again, but Lara was still in full swing. She was going through his toiletries when she came across something that changed things a bit. She said "heh, Zovirax (pronounced Zawvuhrax)..whatever that is..". I felt the need to mention the purpose of this medication, as the TV commercials weren't airing in primetime quite yet. She probably had no idea that one in four Americans is afflicted with something requiring Zovirax, and that it is prescribed for maladies affecting multiple areas of the body, not just below the waist.
Needless to say,she freaked out."He has HERPES!!!oh, my GOD- that fucking asshole!!!". She cried, quite hysterically, for a few minutes, then whipped out a lipstick and wrote something profane on the mirror. I think I wrote something as well, because he really was a dick, but I honestly can't remember. As much as I knew she was a little whacked, it was kind of nice to see him pay for his bad behavior a little bit, even if it was just lipstick and a little rearranging of the furniture. I also felt badly for Lara, as this might be the only brush with a movie star she would ever have.
This whole debacle lasted about forty five minutes. It was pushing midnight, and I had to go back to my hotel and pack. I asked her if she was going to be okay and she said, with certainty, that she was. She crawled into his bed and curled up under the covers, waiting to confront him with her rage and tears. How I wish I could have been a fly on the wall when he returned, probably escorted by another unsuspecting new friend.
I woke the next day, packed up and got into the van to go to the airport. There was the regular chit chat as we swung around to pick up one of the other actors at the hotel where I had been so lawless the night before. The guy got into the van and said, almost immediately "Did you hear about what happened to __?". I shook my head along with everyone else. He went on to tell of a crazy girl breaking into __'s room and ransacking the place, graffiti all over the walls (come on, it was a little lipstick already), who was asleep in his bed when he came back. He woke her up, and she flipped out, security was called and she was dragged from the room screaming "He drugged me! He drugged me!”The best part was that she stole his first class plane ticket before she was taken away, and he had to fly coach all the way back to LA. Everyone shook their heads in disbelief, and I just smiled and nodded. If her display of torment didn't take him down a few notches then flying coach definitely did.

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