2000
| From Earlier When I finally arrived in beautiful downtown Burbank at the airport on my delayed flight, I get off and immediately look for Fia. She is to meet me. Of course, arriving barely 20 minutes before i am supposed to be interviewed is not too cool. And, of course, as usual, with me anyway, she was no where to be found. So I head to baggage. Maybe, just maybe. I get my bag (my mid-sized one) and roll it - stuffed to the brim with my Fabio things - and had a brief moment of panic. No Fia. But wait.... I am prepared..... I have phone numbers....... For some reason I am carrying a copy of the email with directions on who to call. You would think.... Nope. Too easy! The studio couldn't get an answer. This after I fought with a phone that wouldn't take my money after I fought to figure out what money was needed. With my head tuck forward leaning in to the tiny partitions that drowned out little of the noise of the under-construction baggage area. Turns out the phone had been full so the operator said go to another one. This phone got me the studio which couldn't figure out what to do with the call. No assistant. No one else on the show is there. They are off on interviews. So they gave me to another show. Come in by cab they said and gave me directions. The studio is in Hollywood. I am in Burbank - the other side of the mountains. Oh, excuse me. Foothills. Hills at any rate. And more than 20 minutes away. They will pay. OK. I went to find a cab. I walk through construction. (If I am at an airport, it will be under construction. It's an unwritten law.) And low and behold, since I am in a blue dress with pearls like I said I would be, Fia found me! She and her assistant were hunting for me. Probably when I had my head stuck in the phone booth. Good thing. Since the interview is in Burbank at a restaurant. Right down the street. She scoffed at the directions I had been given. I had a name. "Just like ---- to do that!" Fine. I survived what's her name. We have a car. We travel. After a few false starts, we get to the second floor of the restaurant (we arrive with the sound and film crew). They set up and I seek a rest room - back down the stairs. They set up lights (hot). I have a soda (wrong move - next time - water). No prep - they want reactions. They sit me down. And start. For two hours, stopping only to redo when a truck went by and smothered my voice, they asked and I answered. Yes, I like to be snuggled up against his side. I fit there. Did I really say that? Yes, women like him because he is a true gentle man. So polite. So sweet. Very mannerly. Europen continental manners. We all reflect our roots. Did I say he gives great hugs? What would I ask him? Well, he did say once that if you want a thrill, get on the back of his bike. OK. I'm ready. When are we doing this? And not on a city street! We also pause for me to cool off and powder my nose. The lights are hot. I sometimes am aggravated because I can never recall what I just said when I have to repeat. Missed a few good lines. I talked. My voice would drift soft - tired. They would make me speak up louder. I was trying to remember - look at Fia not the camera - she was off to the side. For some reason they all like side shots. Extra did that too. Keep my voice up. Be clear. At last it was done. Then it is a mad dash back to the airport sans suitcase (they have the stuff for a B roll) - they will return it. One photo (me and an alien head) had its glass broken. All else was intact. I made it - last minute - and ended up in a front seat (with seats facing me). I was home in a flash (1 hour flight) and went to see my son. He was in the day hospital then. Tiring day. Different day. The special runs on Valentines day. One hour. Set your tapes. This should be good! My suitcase comes home in six weeks. I need new luggage for Houston. |
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