Three years ago, in April of 2010, I put some boxes and my personal computer in my car and drove cross-country to Arizona to set up house here. My itinerary was to go west from New Jersey and then south. After reaching Ohio via Pennsylvania, I changed my mind and started going south. Lo and behold, right in downtown Cincinnati there is a sign that says Welcome to Kentucky and I find myself crossing a bridge. Continuing south a sign on the highway for food and gas included Kentucky Fried Chicken.
I took the exit to Kentucky Fried Chicken. Maybe since the City of Brotherly Love herein-before, I had not had any. I am in Kentucky and I can use some food. What a great experience that was. A whole buffet with vegetables and desserts. And it was good. I always thank the Universe after a meal.
Why am I going to Arizona? I don't know, but I know I have to. Unlike New York where everybody walks, Arizona is almost pedestrian free although, if needed, the light will tell you when to cross the street.
Everybody walked in Beirut too. The streets were narrow and not too long from one block to the other. It was not unusual to encounter people we know somewhere in the city. Three women I knew and admired were walking towards me in the middle of the street. I was on the sidewalk. One of them said "You are still here? What are you doing here? Go! Go!" Where do you want me to go? I asked. "Wherever you want. New York, Paris, London...go!" They meant to pursue my acting career.
I got scared. Those were big cities. Will Toronto do? Because I have an invitation from there attached to a marriage proposal. No? How about Paris where I have many cousins? No? Philadelphia? Who goes to Philadelphia to study acting? Me!
In my first post on this blog, The City of Brotherly Love, I talk about that. I also talk about Kentucky Fried Chicken in there.
Kentucky is also the Blue Grass State. The grass is so green that it looks blue. Going south on I-75 that's all one sees. It almost brought tears to my eyes. Blue, blue grass of home goes the song I remembered.
I knew Kentucky was also famous for the Derby. There were a lot of boxes in my car but not a hat box. Besides, I was a month early. And which city does the Derby take place in I wondered? Some cross-country traveler I am.
I reached Louisville, Kentucky right before sunset and decided to park and discover. I took just any exit in downtown and ended up by the shore of the Ohio River. A walkway, a boardwalk, a park, restaurants and people everywhere. There is a bridge towards the west and the sun is setting. Oh my, such a lovely sight comes but once in a lifetime I thought. After all, I was going west. Go west girl! I have told that to myself many times.
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| The Ohio River in Louisville, Kentucky |
How does a girl from Beirut end up unannounced and herself surprised on the shores of the Ohio River in Louisville? Just going with the flow. An unplanned journey of this magnitude took all of my energy and courage to complete in a week. The Manager at my bank was shocked that I was taking this trip by myself. "Aren't you afraid?" she asked. I had not had time to be afraid. Afraid of what?
The only time I sort of got a bit worried was in a city in Oklahoma when I checked into a deserted motel at the end of a long day driving. I was so tired that I slept. Other than that, as I reached Flagstaff, Arizona, my legs were weak and I didn't know if I was going to make it to Phoenix which was another two hour drive going downhill on a winding highway at 65 miles per hour. Not a good set up at the end of a long trip. It was the hardest finish I ever had in my entire life. I sometimes slowed down considerably just to feel safe. I was very scared because I was very tired.
I finally spotted a Jeep that was going slow in the rightest lane and followed it for a good half hour before my final destination. There is no hurry. Or was it too late to say that? Am I too fast or just crazy? It is a good crazy when we know we are.
"You keep making big decisions in your life because when you were growing up, you were not allowed to make the little ones." How true those words sounded when they were uttered by a dear friend over the phone a couple of months after I had settled in Phoenix.
From Beirut to Philadelphia, then New York, California, Beirut, California, New Jersey, New York, California, Rhode Island, New York, Rhode Island, New Jersey, Arizona. These were not short trips, or vacations. These were resettlements. These were sudden decisions to move with boxes, personal items and suitcases, leaving behind or giving away all furniture.
It is amazing how in a short time, one can amass things, some necessary, some with the intention of a future use but most oh so replaceable.
By the time I reached Hollywood via New York and West Los Angeles in 1977, I thought I was ready to tackle a career in acting. I went to a weekly acting school and prepared a portfolio with headshots, resumes and pieces of newspaper clippings. My first audition that every student in the school also went to, was advertised in one of the periodicals for actors, maybe Casting Call, maybe Drama Logue. I asked my friend Tony to accompany me to the audition.
While Tony was waiting in another room, this man with the last name of Meatman which should have been a warning but this is clueless me we are talking about, was "interviewing" me.
- So, what do you say if I told you that in order to get this job you have to sleep with someone?
It sounded like I was dreaming. Did I hear this right?
- Excuse me?
- You heard me, he said and repeated. What do you say if I told you that in order to get this job you have to sleep with someone?
Yes, I had heard about casting couches but I had thought that only happened to others. I was not the casting couch type I thought, whatever that was. I am? Who knew? It was hard to come to terms in my head with that fact. It was a lucrative offering at the time with good pay and traveling said the ad. The ad also said that it was for industrial films where we were to demonstrate products.
In my disbelief and disappointment as I could have used a job, I bought time to sort of try to change the course of events.
- I wouldn't mind that at all, I replied, but who do you have in mind?
I was thinking even Tony, sitting outside, unaware, can fit the bill but not this Meatman. I was telling him off since it was obvious to me who he meant by "someone".
Tony had heard everything. He took me to a bar for a glass of beer which I drank while crying and realizing that the signs were there from the start. I just did not want to see them.
I had sent my resume to the address in the publication and had gotten a call back.
- Why do you think you were chosen for an interview? He asked.
- I don't know, I said. Because I am multi-lingual?
- 34B?
- Excuse me?
- 34B? You wear 34B?
I did. What has that got to do with anything? Oh, maybe they are looking for a certain size I thought.
- Yes, I do.
- Can you come for an interview?
- Yes I can.
After I told this part of the story to Tony, and for the next year, he kept bringing it up to sort of make light of it as it had really affected my morale. "How is the Meatman?" or "34B?" he would repeat until he got me laughing about it.
I did not get the job.
- You are very inhibited Miss! he told me as we parted. I threw myself in Tony's arms crying as we left this obscure building in an obscure area of downtown Los Angeles.
Today I found out where the Kentucky Derby takes place. Louisville.
