So I was at a party Saturday night...

My dad has a friend at work who's nephew (Steve) is a producer out here in L.A. Lucky for me, my dad's buddy gave me his phone number and email so I could contact him. So I gave him a jingle sometime last week and he agreed to meet with me this Tuesday (today!) to talk about the film industry. What a great opportunity! So, Steve shot me an email confirming where we'll meet up to chat and mentioned he's having a birthday party on Saturday night and that if I wanted to come, I was more than welcome. He even told me if I wanted to bring a friend, to do so. An opportunity to causally meet other producers in the industry? I'm there!

Now, since I'm hopping from place to place with no permanent living situation, I don't always have a chance to take a shower as so I usually wear a hat to cover up my greasy hair. Knowing I'm going to a bar for a birthday party, I figure I better at least put on some pants, although there's not much I can do about taking a shower. When I get to the bar, which didn't look too fancy on the outside, I immediately head for the restroom since I hadn't peed since I woke up. After I relieved myself, I go to wash my hands and am confronted with a bell-hop-looking towel/soap guy. I've only seen these guys on TV, I didn't think they actually existed. It was at this moment I thought that maybe I shouldn't have worn tennis shoes. I left the restroom unsure if I should have tipped the friendly towel/soap guy- who, noticing my Twins hat, grieved with me over Friday's 12th inning catastrophe- and headed upstairs to where the party was. Once I got up there and saw all the people I thought, crap, I only talked to and emailed with Steve. I have no clue at what he looks like.

So I did the only thing I could, I started asking people if they knew Steve Eddy and where he was. The first person I asked looked at me like I was naked in a snowstorm: confused, sympathetic, and a little amused. This might be a long evening. Fortunately, I next person I asked, told me that he was right behind me. I turned around, waited for good moment to interrupt the conversation of small talk that was going on, and introduced myself. Steve was very friendly and delighted I could make it- which was a definite relief. After talking briefly and telling me to get whatever I wanted and to put it on his tab ("Just find the short blonde waitress," he told me), he went to entertain some of his other guests- I mean he couldn't talk with me his entire birthday night (although that would have been nice...). So I found myself back where I started: not knowing anybody and unsure where to begin (but at least I knew what Steve looked like now).

So what did I do? I stood there. Like a statue. This wasn't exactly my ideal atmosphere: loud techno music and wealthy strangers. Finally breaking out of my trance, I started to walk around, to give the impression I belonged there. I strolled past the DJ and decided to strike up a brief conversation to gain some confidence. "So do you ever go old-school and scratch up some vinyl?" She just stared at me, expressionless. I thought, crap, maybe she's deaf or mute (recognizing later that DJ's are most likely neither), so, not wanting to be insensitive, I moved on, not pressing the issue. Five minutes later I noticed her happily engaged in conversation with another party-goer. A few more minutes of awkwardly standing with my hands in my pockets, I saw a guy with a L.A. Dodgers t-shirt checking his phone constantly, not talking with anybody. My kind of guy. I attempted to maneuver over to him to chat baseball, but there were more than just a few people in my way. There was literally clusters, walls and barricades of party-ers between him and I. Fate seemed to be refusing to let me get comfortable tonight.

Finally I saw saw my opportunity: an open seat next to a group who was between topics in their conversation. This was my chance. I sat down. And before the women across from me finished taking a sip of their drink I asked, "Is this seat taken?" "No, go ahead, sit down." So far so good. "Hi, my name is Michael." Two minutes later, we ran out of stuff to talk about- but for two minutes, I felt like Steven Spielberg. Then the group abruptly stood up, as some of them were leaving the party early- something I decided I should probably do soon as well. But right as the thought crossed my mind, my phone rang. It was Stephen, the buddy I invited to the party, telling me that he could make it. In 20 minutes. Okay, I thought, I just need to hold in there for 20 more minutes, then I'll actually have someone I can legitimately talk to. Determined to stick it out, I decided it was finally time to find that small blonde waitress, a task that may take awhile. Besides, getting through another 20 minutes, definitely called for a drink.

I looked around. How am I going to track this waitress down? After a few minutes of using my height to my advantage, I heard an "Excuse me" coming from behind me. Hey, sounds like someone might actually wants to talk to me! I turn around. "Excuse me. No hats." It was one of the bouncers. No hats? I mean, I've had my Twins cap on the entire time and this guy has definitely seen me before (I had a two sentence conversation with him 12 minutes ago). "After ten 'o clock, we do not allow hats in here." "Oh, sorry....do you know the reason behind that?" "It's the dress code." I wanted to ask why 10:00 is the magic number, but it looked as if he wished to end our interaction. It was then when I noticed another guy wearing a hat. Granted, it wasn't a baseball cap, but it was still a hat nevertheless. I just was about to inquire about his head wear when I see the bouncer smile as he walked past him (and away from me) without saying a thing. That's got to be a double-standard, right? Or maybe the bouncer was a Yankees fan.

Moving on by continuing to stand, I spot pitchers of juice on a nearby table with glasses next to them. Perfect! Now I don't have to find that small blonde waitress or drink alcohol! I go over to the table and pick up a glass, about to pour myself some cranberry juice when from behind me I hear a sharp and jolting tone, "That's not yours!" I turn around. Looks like I found the small blonde waitress. "That belongs to another party!" "Okay, sorry..." But she had already left. I never knew someone half my size (and appearing to look half my age as well) could be that intimidating. Well, it looks like I probably won't be getting a drink this evening after all.

About 10 minutes later, my buddy Stephen arrived and was personally escorted up to the party by Steve (like I said, he's really a nice guy- even for friends of people he just met). Stephen and I talked for awhile and, fortunately, he was pretty tired and was okay with leaving. But not before he talked up a Brazilian women who was a student at USC. And he wasn't even tiring to get into a conversation! Next time I'll make sure I arrive at parties with Stephen from the get-go. He might just be the bridge over my troubled water.

Besides the above experience, I found a place to live! I moving into my friend Joseph's apartment that he's subleasing to a couple from New York. It's a little cramped for now, but it feels good to have place to call home. This will most likely be my permanent place of residency for the next year. Until next time, enjoy the snow for me! (not stated sarcastically)