Lucky Seven or When Valerie "Fell" For Me

Valerie has been doing a bunch of posts about us. I feel remiss. I want to talk about about her(us) as well.

Our 7th anniversary is coming up. Let me tell you one of my favorite stories.

FALL 2002

Valerie had come back to school at BYU-Idaho. I was starting my second year there. I was friends with some of her friends. She was in theater. She was really good. I was in improv. I was not good. (Then. I got better later.)

The first time we met was after an improv show. I had been remarkably unfunny. Afterwards, someone introduced Valerie to me. She looked sassy. Just as we started talking, my girlfriend at the time ran out and told me how good I'd been. Valerie had a 'oh, hell no' look on her face. That was the end of us for a while.

I wouldn't say it was a slow burn between us, it was just complicated. I was kind of a serial dater, Valerie was and is her own person, and we hadn't really figured out 'us' yet.

Fast forward a few months, we'd become friends-ish. I had a different girlfriend but it was stretching a little.

Then one day it was after improv practice, we were both at the Kirkham where all the theater and improv geeks hung out.

Valerie was walking down some stairs with Shiloh. I was walking towards the stairs with some of the improv guys. Suddenly, Valerie trips. A really good one. So much it turned her around and she was going to crash onto her back.

I'm not sure why I did it. Maybe it was because I liked her. Because I did. It may be because I have a little bit of hero complex. Because I do. It may be because I wanted to do something for Valerie. A person so self sustaining it's almost impossible to do anything for her that she cannot do for herself.

I dove.

Leapt. Baseball slid under her. Got my my arms under her back to save her from the perilous two foot fall. And when all the parts, arms and legs and necks, settled she looked down at me under her and said:

"What are you doing?"

And I said something like:

"Trying to save/help/catch you."

And she said something like:

"Why?"

And I said something like:

"Because you were falling/tripping/you know..."

And we disentangled. Valerie was a little embarrassed. And I was a little confused. My status as cool and elusive was totally shattered in my moment of pointless and heroic. It didn't start us dating. It didn't bond us together.

But I think I grabbed her butt. Double smooth.

The Robe

Here's the thing. I have these work stories. And I want to tell you these work stories. I have crazy stories from 30 Rock. I have stories from the movies I worked on and the actors there. I have stories about where I'm working right now. But I can't tell them.

Because I don't want to become my own story. The story told repeatedly as a cautionary tale in "Hollywood". The story of the low level employee tweeting or blogging or facebooking the funny anecdote and then it getting back to the producer or showrunner or somebody. And then the firing. And then the shaking of heads from the employees peers who say, "He/She should have known better."

I have to be careful. If you want to hear stories, you'll have to ask me in person. The internet is FOREVER. Theoretically.
So with great vagueness I tell you this story.

THE ROBE
Let's say his name is Doug. When you have fancy people like Doug, you put them in Doug-class hotels. They stay there for the run of filming. Well, one day, the hotel called us up. And told us the robe from the room was missing. And they didn't want to charge us for the robe, or Doug, so could we discretely ask about The Robe.

This put us in an awkward position of course. Because we needed to ask Doug if he had The Robe in his possession. We were filming off site and he wasn't going to be back to that hotel for a few days. So we called.
"Doug. Hey, you know how hotel rooms have monogrammed robes in the rooms? Did you maybe accidentally take yours? Because the hotel is looking for it."

Doug confirmed very neutrally that The Robe was in his possession. It was sent from set in a garbage bag. I was given the task of returning The Robe.
Now, of course, this raises Doug questions. What did Doug need The Robe for? Did it make him feel luxurious? Is he a Robe Person? Is anyone left alive still a Robe Person? Does he shoot porn? Is he just a hotel Robe kleptomaniac?

So I was given the task of returning The Robe. I walked into the fancy Manhattan hotel holding a black garbage bag. I walked up to the concierge.

"Oh, hello. I'm returning one of your robes. Doug accidentally placed this large bulky robe in one of his bags."
"In his luggage. Okay. Let me just check. Oh, wait. Doug hasn't checked out yet. So why did he take the robe?"

"Maybe he was cold. Outside of his room."

So they promised to launder The Robe and return it to his room. It doesn't end there.
The crew gets back to the city. Doug goes back to his fancy room. The next day he pulls aside a PA and asks:

"Hey, what's the deal with my robe?"

So the PA calls the Production Office, where I work, and asks what we did with the robe. We tell her: Given back, hotel cleaning it.

So Doug asks the PA:

"Is my robe going to be there tonight?"

Another PA he spoke to calls back, asking when this happened, could we get Doug a new robe. My boss says:

"I am over The Robe. We are not dealing with The Robe."

Now I have a question. I dropped off the robe five days ago. Did the hotel worry about Doug so much that they no longer trust him with robes? Or is Doug putting together a scam? Did he steal The Robe again and is now creating an alibi wherein he pretends that the Robe was never returned?

We call back. We dropped off The Robe. End of story. He will have to address all future Robe questions to the hotel. The calls stopped. The Robe never turned up again.