“With great power comes great responsibility.” – Ben Parker in Spider-Man

Friday afternoon I get an out-of-the-blue call from the president/owner of a very well known Film & Television Production company. He invites me to come out and meet him in SoHo at around 9pm. A dynamite restaurant with dynamite service called Pastis. He would like to discuss a future project(s) that I might be right for. I was a tad nervous because I know the entertainment business and I know New York. I don't want to sound cynical (nor do I want to be naive) but there are a ton of bullshitters, posers, assholes, and yahoos out there all claiming to be somebody they’re not and they can do something they really can't (or won't). So when a rare moment happens and a person in power such as Peter (his name) says he intends to help me out it’s hard not to question if there is an ulterior motive. Thus far, I can find none.

Could someone in a top position such as his help someone move their career along just for the sake of simply being kind? As far as I know...yes. Although extremely rare - it does happen.

A quick back story on how we met:

When the show Lenny & Lou closed I was back to being unemployed. I am proud to say that I do have a decent work ethic. I hate not working. So in the middle of interviewing for fulltime jobs, I was working part time at a Real Estate firm helping my friend, Ariana out. It was roughly $150.00 - $200.00 a day on the weekends. Easy work. Good money.

One of the lovely sales agents at the company had to show a gentleman a penthouse under construction and naturally she didn’t want to go alone. She asked me to come with her. I obliged. As if me being there should make her feel any safer...

We went and waited for the man to show. He did. Looked like a regular gentleman in his 40’s. He introduced himself and made small talk while we waited for his friends outside the building's entrance. He asked where each of us lived. I told him the Upper East Side on 70th and 1st. He mentioned how he was familiar with the 'hood because of his treatment at Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center. Then I mentioned how I used to work there. He also mentioned he was in town scouting locations for some TV show he is producing. He also mentioned one of his friends that was (at this point walking down the block with another guy) a well known TV director. He worked on a documentary about 9/11. Peter talked about his direct experience with digging in the rubble days after the tragedy. His brother was one of the very few lucky firemen that was pulled out of the rubble soon after the collapse. “Incredible,” I told him, “I too am a 9/11 survivor.” I told him a very abridged version of my experience down there (blog to be published on 9/11/06) on that day which he found fascinating.

His colleagues show – he introduces one as the TV director and the other as his Casting Director. I thought to myself, "Shit, I am an actor. Who are these people? Should I ask for their cards?" But I refrained myself. I was there on business and not to network so I did the politically correct thing and never mentioned I was an actor. Thought that would be cheesy and inappropriate and I withheld the info. When we all went up to look at this soon to be a gorgeous multi-million dollar penthouse apartment I noticed he continued to engage me in small talk: Where was I born? where did I grow up? Yada yada yada. I asked him the same. Then when we were waiting for the elevator he asked me how long have I been in real estate. I looked at my watch and said, “Oh, since about 10 this morning.” He chuckled and asked what else I did. I sheepishly said, “Well I feel awkward telling you because I know you mentioned you were in the entertainment business, and well…I guess you can say I’m an actor.”

“Oh really.” His eyes lit up a little bit. “So are you in anything right now or working on any project(s)…?”

I said, “Well actually, funny you should ask, I have a small speaking part on The Sopranos that’s airing tonight.”

What perfect timing.

His eyes lit up a little more and asked what else have I done and I told him of this well made short film I did where I played young Steven Spielberg and that the film was inspired by the making of Jaws. He seemed just a tiny tiny itty witty bit impressed. But I think he was even more fascinated by my 9/11 story. He said how he’d like to help me out and he gave me his card. To my surprise I saw the name of the company on the card and I almost gasped. On the outside of course I remained cool. Normal. Indifferent. Quite different from what was going on inside. He gave me his phone number and told me to call him the next day. I did. We talked for quite a bit. Naturally in this biz and in this city you have to keep one eye open with every stranger you meet, especially the ones that offer to help. What’s the catch? What’s the agenda? What’s the M.O.? I asked him why he was willing to help me out and he responded by saying that he felt a certain bond with people, like myself, that was so directly affected by 9/11. He told me to keep in touch with him as he will be working on many projects in the near and distant future.

So I did the right thing and kept in touch every so often without being a pest. Without being eager. And without expecting anything. Maybe I would at the very least gain a mentor in the entertainment biz – an industry I really want to make my mark in. And to my surprise, and so unlike everyone else that came around before him with a million empty promises [which I am sure started out with the best of intentions] Peter has been a real stand-up guy. Not that common in showbusiness and I can't thank him enough for that.

Back to the present:

We meet up at Pastis in the Meatpacking district and it is packed. We go across the street now to Ono, the restaurant at the base of Hotel Gansevoort. We get a bit hammered on Lychee Martinis. Plenty of them. They were good. My stomach was empty and the three I drank were taking effect. We talked about the biz and the future project(s) I may be right for, the women in our lives [both the good and the bad], and then we mingle in the outside bar with some other patrons. It is now almost midnight and we have not eaten – [Vegas flashback]. He suggests the roof top bar at the Gansevoort before we eat [again – Vegas Flashback].

There is a long line to get into the hotel to go up to the roof. We go to the front of the line where a cocky bouncer is humiliating a girl by loudly claiming how her ID is fake and he is confiscating it and he will be calling the NYPD if she doesn’t leave. [flashback to when my ID was confiscated by some dick bouncer in New Hope Pennsylvania and humiliated me and my friends in front of the entire line].

So Peter hands the bouncer his card, says the company he is with, and the overwhelming business they contribute to the hotel. The bouncer, again with his ridiculously cocky attitude, says, “I don’t care who you are. I don’t know you. Get to the back of the line and wait like everyone else.” So a tame argument ensues as he tries to explain further to the bouncer who he is. The bouncer rudely dismisses him and loudly exclaims [I am paraphrasing here] how he doesn’t give a shit. So Peter asks the bouncer for his name. He replies ignorantly, “Sal.” And turns away with a smug little smirk on his face. Peter bravely gets closer to Sal and says, “I want you to remember my name” and Peter states his first and last name while the bouncer gives him a cocky wave of his hand.

We walk away and Peter apologizes that I have to witness this. He gets on his cell phone. I see him in a brief yet passionate conversation. He hangs up and within a minute the manager of the hotel comes out and meets us. Shakes Peter’s hand and begins to escort us into the hotel. As we are about to enter through the revolving door, Peter yells out – and this is great – “He Sal!” [middle finger raised] “Fuck you pal!”

The look on Sal’s face was priceless. He immediately left the line to follow us in not knowing what to do. Sal pulled out his cell phone but then immediately closed it. I guess he didn’t know who to call. He stood there like a schmuck, embarrassed, a bit nervous and shuffling his feet (kinda like the girl he humiliated minutes before). My friend proceeded to tell the hotel manager the hundreds of thousands of dollars his company provides in business for the hotel. And they have a choice. Continue to pay the rude douche bag of a bouncer a measly $30k and loose his company's business or get rid of him and keep his business. Right in front of Sal - the manager told Peter he will have a talk with Sal but in the meantime offers us his card and comp drinks at the bar. Peter graciously declined – “Not while he’s here (pointing to Sal). Then Peter turned to me and said, “Come on, Todd, let’s go get some steaks!” I shrugged to the bouncer. I let a little “tsk tsk tsk” to Sal escape my mouth and then I smiled.

And so we headed back to Pastis for some midnight steaks. Each an 8 ouncer – while across the street, loosing his job was Sal the Bouncer.

Unfortunately, the dickhead tried to pull a power trip with someone that had some “real” power. And well, what goes around comes around. And so that’s how Sal the bouncer got himself bounced!