Ceasing the moment…or playing games? I had in mind before I left the house how the night would go down, I had it all played out in my head–go to the screening, meet people at the reception, go to the in-n-out burger, go home and write. Writing is about the only thing which played out.

I went. As I strolled up to the line of movie goers I saw a guy smoking–out of line, on his phone, wearing a black dress coat and hightop sneakers. My first thought was about his shoes, “Sarah is right, every guy wears sneakers no matter what the occasion, casual or suit and tie.” It’s not a bad thing, or a thing at all. Just an observation. I probably tried on three different pairs of shoes before I made any final decisions, and I am considered low maintenance.

He looked up at me as I stood at the back of the line. “Nice shirt.” He said.

“Nice shoes.” I thought; they were actually pretty cool looking sneakers.

“BJ Levin.” He stuck out his hand.

At first I thought he said BJ eleven, like the number 11, Oh god. “Corrie.” I shook his hand.

“Have you been to many of these?” He asked.

“No actually, this is my first time.” I said.

“No way.” He laughed. “I flew out from NY for this.”

I continued to explain that I had just moved here, but he had already moved on. Our conversation went to what we do, “This is my show.” He said.

“Here we go…” I thought. “Oh really, how cool.” I said. I asked him a few questions about the show and he asked me about my life, why am I in LA? I told him I would rather live in NY.

He said, “Why not. You can do anything you want.”

I hate it when people say that, especially those who are fortunate to do what they want. I explained I moved here for love and of course I received a usual response, “How’s that going?” As many times I get asked that question one would think I may have a clever come back. No, I am stumped every time, and really have no response at all.

“A work in progress huh?”

“Yes.” I smiled, laughed and shook my head.

“Listen, follow your dreams, if you’re a writer then write. You don’t need a piece of paper to tell you so. There is a reception to follow the screening, come find me, OK.” He smiled as he moved on.

“Hmm, he was listing, I hope my car is OK.” Honestly I didn’t believe he was the executive producer of the show and I was more concerned if I was going to be towed from the lot I had parked in. And what is up with that name, BJ eleven. I wonder how he spells it, does he put the number 11 after it, is there a space between ’em, oh, I bet he spells it bj–bj11, so weird.

I love it when I am wrong. As I caught up with the valet guys and established auto safety and made it back to my seat, BJ entered the stage, “Hello my name is BJ Levin…” Oh my goodness, it’s not the number 11, I am so glad I kept my mouth shut. He commenced his speech about the show, Vice, on HBO. Well, I guess not everyone is full of shit, and I owed him an apology.

That is not the awkward moment, It gets better, weirder–I don’t know. But as I stagger out with the rest of the flock for the reception I was pushed into another guy standing in the hallway. “Don’t mean to crowd your personal space.” I said.

As I approached BJ he smiled, “Hey, how did you like it?”

“I have to apologize.” I said

“What do yo mean?” His eyes sparkled and he shifted in his stance, became a little hesitant.

“I didn’t believe you earlier, I thought you were bullshitting me about Vice being your show.”

“Are you serious?” He sounded a little put off, I guess I could understand.

“Yeah, I know I’m lame. Sooo, I feel bad and like I should say something. I really do dig this show, your show.”

“I can’t believe you thought I am just some asshole, schmuck kind of kind of guy… Hey guys,” He turns to a group of three others standing close by, “This is Corrie, famous writer, she thought I was just some asshole lying to her about running the show.”

They all laughed a little and murmured little comments under their breathe. What a way to break the ice for conversation with the Kings of HBO. I stood there a little sheepish with his crew while it all came together–who is who and how I’m the asshole for thinking the other. They all thought it was funny that I didn’t believe  BJ was the EP. I was happy about leaving the house and fighting traffic for this moment. The event became invigorating and inspiring to meet and listen to these guys who make the show run and how they make it run, work and stay alive.

The reception died out I was left alone with the hallway guy. “You again.” He said.

“Yup, what now?”

Silence, awkward.