“You’re invited to two weeks in paradise on tropical islands” I read on a travel agency brochure handed to me by one girl on my way to work. Funny thing! Everyone rushes to the sea, the ocean, the sun, the beach and I ran away from there. I was born and lived for twenty years on an island in the ocean. Now I’ve come to Los Angeles, planning to become an actor and, of course, win an Oscar. Back home, everyone valued my acting talent and sense of humor very highly. Here, I’m just a waiter. At home, I was also a waiter, only across from our café there was the sea and fresh air; here the air is dirty and heavy, cars constantly roar by, and there’s a big dumpster at the door. I earn significantly more here than I did at home, but prices are higher, expenses greater. On weekends, I go to castings, so there’s no question of going to admire the local sea. No, I haven’t been disappointed yet. I know what I’m capable of, and I know that luck will come to me. The hope of landing a major film role never leaves me for a second. My colleagues (waiters, not actors) say that if luck never comes, at least I’ll get plenty of chances to see Hollywood stars they’re everywhere here, like vegetables in a garden.
Today, on a sunny April day, taking out the trash in the middle of my shift, I saw a homeless man. In him, I recognized the famous actor Bill Fly. What a catch! Three-time Oscar winner, four-time Golden Globe winner, and a pile of other awards, but most importantly, he was the one who hung on my wall at home! Not him personally, of course the poster for one of his films. Awards and recognition were long past, but the tabloids wrote about him constantly. One thing he certainly knew how to do was deal with the press: always smiling at the camera, waving at the paparazzi, loving to act absurdly. I’d heard that Hollywood stars often dress up to go unnoticed in the city, or, like Bill Fly, lie down to rest in the middle of the day… but why in a dumpster? Passersby walked or ran past, seemingly bewitched, unable to process seeing a star fallen into a pile of garbage. I saw, and so I reached out my hand (after wiping it on my apron). Nobody would believe I met this world-famous person, a great actor of our time! Bill Fly smiled at me, even though I had no camera in hand… I should have grabbed my phone for a selfie, but he could barely stand, was humming to himself, and smelled of alcohol, like a freshly uncorked bottle.
“I loved your character in your cult film… what’s it called… well, it came out about twenty years ago… You played the cop who rebelled against the corrupt colleague!” I said as sincerely as possible (my voice always wavered with excitement).
The eccentric actor said nothing and collapsed back into the dumpster. It reminded me of a scene from a 1984 film, where he played an impoverished aristocrat.
“Why are you hugging this bum?” my colleague asked when she saw me helping the star to stand.
“That’s Bill Fly himself! Don’t you see? He’s disguised as a homeless man, but he’s rich and famous!”
“Okay… Wash your hands afterward, don’t forget.”
She didn’t believe me. I handed her my apron and asked her to let them know I wouldn’t be coming in today. She said, “Not guaranteed they’ll let you back in.” I shrugged; at that moment, it didn’t matter, because in my hands was a man who won the Oscar in 2001.
I hailed a taxi and helped lift Bill Fly onto the back seat. He refused to give an address… or maybe the smacking sounds he made were meant to indicate the location? Never mind. The driver was experienced, often drove tourists, and knew all the houses of local celebrities. And yes, he didn’t believe I was with Bill Fly the great actor, Oscar and Golden Globe winner but he didn’t refuse to take me and the bum to the right house for a fee.
