Recognized!

“When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be” ~Lao Tzu

“Text me, TEXT ME, TEXT ME!” I stared at my cell phone, waiting for the usual indication that I would indeed once again be standing in for HER as we camera-blocked our last episode of the first half of our Second Season.

“C’mon, C’MON, C”MON!” I pleaded to my humble pathetic flip-phone that blinked almost apologetically with a green light alerting me to the fact that not one-what-so-ever byte of incoming information was being patched through.

“But I gotta be her, I GOTTA BE HER, I GOTTA BE HER!” I threw my arms in the air in righteous indignation; pointing out the fact (to my kitty cat who had nowhere to go but to hide inside the closet) that I had EARNED my right to perform with our Guest Star of the week!

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“Is it time to make scene with aerating soil?” our six foot three inch tall Brazilian Model Guest Star asked me as I melted into a small puddle.

“Uh-huh!” I squeaked (NEVER more thrilled IN MY LIFE to not only fill in for our Leading Lady, but also for the chance to fulfill the fantasy of every straight woman and gay man on our stage!) 

And accidentally stepping on the edge of my boot with his shoe, he apologized profusely:  “I’m so sorry my dear!” our visiting Brazilian politely fretted, placing his hand on the small of my back to steady me.

“OHH, THAT’S OK!!!” I puddle-esque quivered.

“She’s walking now?  Copy that” my AD caught my eye as he spoke into his mini-microphone, simultaneously outstretching his arm in a human barricade so as to block my puddle-essence from spilling into the set.   

Aw, c’mon!!!

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“We’re keeping all you guys for the show tonight, since we camera-blocked with you instead of the Cast and you need to give them notes” one of my ADs informed the Second Team.

“Of course you are…” I smiled numbly, resigned to the fact that no matter what technical notes I could possibly convey, my Gorgeous Actress would rightfully do whatever she deemed organically suitable on stage in front of her live studio audience; and yet despite this departmentally-widely accepted knowledge by every other person on the crew, my ADs would STILL hold me hostage as though my presence could in some miraculous way, prevent any and all possible unforeseen snafus.  (Anyone else see the incredulity here?)

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Suffice it to say, I was tired.  My feet were still hurting (as they’ve been for months on the days when I have no chance to sit down), and collecting a platter of free food at our final catered meal (for now), I limped towards the table of my fellow Stand-Ins (I’m beginning to think it’s all psychosomatic!) until I was interrupted by an alien voice:

“Penny?  She’d like to see you in her dressing room after you finish your dinner,” one of our Leading Lady’s throng of assistants (who had never spoken to me before) grinned.  “Do you know where that is?” he wondered as I honestly shook my head “no”.

“Through that door and down the hallway to the last one on your left” he pointed.  “She has a little something for you” he smiled.

“OK” I responded, wildly confused.  And collapsing happily at the table, my sister and brethren Second Teamers prodded me to go and collect my gift immediately. 

Oh, but I had already received the most wonderful gift -- a chair to sit down on!

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*knock, knock, knock*

“Come in!” my Leading Lady’s cheerful voice carried through the door and out into the hallway (and possibly all the way to San Francisco!).

“You wanted to see me?” I asked uncomfortably, suddenly acutely aware that despite having worked together for two seasons, I’d never experienced the unique sense of awkwardness (slash) absolutely debilitating (slash) terrifying Hitchcock-esque special effect that comes with finding one’s self summoned to a celebrity’s personal dressing room and being addressed eye to eye.

“Hi Pen!  I just wanted to thank you…” she began graciously as the aforementioned assistant placed an envelope in my hand.  “Blah, blah, blah… was so great…” she continued (crap! I was a deer caught in headlights!) “…and the fact that…” she added, (snap out of it already!) “…not to mention…” she continued warmly (WTF was wrong with me?) “…and why are you standing so far away, Pen?  Come closer!” she beckoned, as I realized that I’d been paralyzed for the last five minutes at the door, twenty feet away from her.  “At least let me hug you!” she smiled.

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Frankly, the entire experience still feels surreal.

I’m relatively certain that I threw in a lot of “No, thank YOU!” comments, whenever I heard a lull…

To the best of my recollection (fuzzy as it may be), I’m pretty sure that whilst only one assistant was present at the time (along with her personal hair stylist), two more assistants entered at some point.  And although my imagination may be playing tricks on me, it’s still entirely possible that she was getting hair extensions while sitting in a purple velvet throne.

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“What’d ya get?  What’d ya get?!” my co-workers wanted to know as I plopped back down in my dinner chair.

“I dunno” I offered stupidly, only vaguely aware of the envelope still clutched in my sweaty little paw. 

“Let’s see!”

And opening the personalized stationery, I read the gracious hand-written sentiments of thanking me for filling in for her throughout a difficult season.  “P.S.” I read out loud, “I don’t know what you like, so please buy yourself a much deserved treat!”

“Is that a personal check?” one of my friends asked, eying a separate piece of paper enclosed.

“That’s a check!!!” I beamed!

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Feeling extremely special and appreciated by my Actress, yet still rather oppressed by my ADs (I know, I know, they had bigger fish to fry), I was somewhat mortified to be called onto the set to give notes for our first scene in front of the audience.

“I don’t HAVE any notes for this scene!” I shouted over the jubilant music of our live DJ and fantastic Warm-Up guy. 

“How am I supposed to know that?” my AD sighed irritably as he walked away.

“Hmm…  I don’t know…  maybe because I’ve done my job well for two seasons, and you ought to know that I’d catch your eye if I needed to give a note; followed by tracking you down after giving said note and shouting “SET!” in your ear as I’ve done for the last twenty-two episodes?” I wondered to myself.

And scuttling appropriately like vermin behind the stage as only lowly sub-human Stand-Ins are apparently supposed to do, I wound my way in the dark to the Craft Services area; where what should happen to lie in wait of my pestilence-infested whiskers, but a tray of diced cheese cubes.

Perfect. (You have to appreciate The Universe’s wacky sense of humor!)

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With three scenes to be shot in the same set, my notes given (albeit disregarded!), I thought I was safe to venture quietly down the length of the rest of the darkened stage towards the AD office to hide and maybe finish a crossword puzzle.

“HEY!  GIVE IT UP FOR *insert my full name*!  She played *insert character title* in the episode you all just watched, and she’s ALSO *insert my Actress’ name* STAND-IN!!!” our Audience Warm-Up guy alerted the crowd as 250 people clapped and fervently waved at me.

“Oh…!  Hi, everybody!” I smiled and waved back before immediately scurrying into the shadows; a couple of cubes of Swiss cheese still lingering in my ferret-like paws.

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As with all things in Nature, there belies a delicate balance.

A seedling must grow, must defy the occasional rock in its way, and with a bit of sunshine, develop into what it is most naturally meant to be.  And commanded to remain on stage at all times while re-writes were occurring, I stood patiently in a row with some of my fellow beleaguered Second Teamers.

“You know, it’s a damn good thing we’re here” our three-day-player guest Stand-In nodded.  “Heck, we’re SAVING this show just with our physical presence of being in absolutely everyone else’s way” he smirked sarcastically.

And just like that, a ray of sunshine!

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“Step over here” I nudged my friend Tara as we shamelessly ogled our ridiculously handsome and charming (shirtless) Brazilian Guest Star.

“Woof” our Second Second AD sidled up, as a small congregation of female admirers began angling for position and proper viewing.

“Make room, MAKE ROOM, MAKE ROOM!” my Leading Lady’s assistant barreled into us for his own line of sight.

“I’d like to send her a Thank You card for her generous gift” I whispered to the assistant.  “Is it OK to send it to the address on the check in Malibu?” I wondered.

“Yes sweetie” he smiled, “and you deserved it” he added genuinely.  “Now, can you scoot over just a bit?!”

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Officially wrapped at 10:06pm, I hugged as many people as possible within range (my apologies to at least four that I missed!), and headed quickly out the door into the night before we went on a bell to begin shooting again.

Three Higher-Ups had ever so kindly asked me to stay in touch should they need me, to which I honestly responded “I’ll be in my bed for at least a week catching up on some sleep.  But I’m all yours after that!” I answered with all due respect.

And still hobbling a bit, I paused under a nearly full moon to try to remember just where I had parked Cecilia (my Toyota) earlier that morning…

There had been a terribly long line of cars awaiting permission into the gate; I’d managed to bypass a couple of civilians; I’d made it into the structure, when…  OH YES!  My FAVORITE Security Guard (who sometimes has a ciggy with me), mentioned that a certain VIP unmarked spot just MIGHT be open ON THE GROUND FLOOR!

And tone-deaf as I may be, I burst into a Semi Season Finale bastardized acoustic garage version of Simon and Garfunkel’s song “Cecilia”, where “WE GET TO GO HOME!” dominated whatever hippy-dippy lyrics they’d actually written.  (Sorry fellas!)

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Embracing my first couple of days of complete autonomy, answering to ABSOLUTELY NO ONE (other than my occasionally milk-craving kitty), I eventually peeled my misanthropic weary head off the bed to check my snail mail.

Hunh…

Guess who just got summoned for Superior Court Jury Duty next month?  OY!!!

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Attempting to make the best of every situation, and determined to find a ray of sunshine to help this little seedling continue to grow, I’m choosing to stand tall.  (Well…, ya know…, in the comfort of my dimly-lit bat-cave and mostly asleep in the dark for the next thirty days…) 

Wishing you whatever makes your spirit soar,

~Happily napping P :)

p.s. Mucho Gusto to our Guest Star!