August 8 - The Message

Tim opened the door, and the man he saw looked familiar.
"Hi," he said, speaking quickly. "Your name is Tim Rogers. You were born on October 3, 1973, you have a birth mark on your elbow that looks like an elephant, and the first time you jerked off it was to Daisy Duke. Am I right? I'm right, right?"
Tim looked at the man dubiously, and he continued.
"I know all of this because I am you." He showed Tim his left elbow which had an elephant shaped birthmark on it. "I am you 20 years in the future, and I only have two minutes to talk to you. After that I disappear. Do you understand?"
Tim continued to look at the man doubtfully.
The man exhaled impatiently and then continued his machine gun barrage of words. "You're afraid of rats, your favorite book is Watership Down but you tell everybody it's Catcher in the Rye, your earliest memory is when you were jumping on the bed when you were four and you fell off and broke your arm. Look, I'm you, OK? Do you believe me yet? I have something incredibly important to tell you about your future. Our future. It's about--"
"OK, if you're really me in the future, who did I lose my virginity to?"
"You haven't yet."
"OK, so who will I lose it to?"
"Karen Boyle."
He perked up. "Really?"
"Yes. You'll both be drunk. You on Schlitz, her on wine coolers. Seagrams. I think. Next summer vacation. Pool party. Her folks out of town."
"Seriously? Karen Boyle?"
"Yes, now listen--"
"Am I any good?"
"Of course not. Now listen to me. Very carefully."
"Do we do it more than once?"
"No, but don't worry. You do fine in that department once you go away to college."
"Really? Like who with?"
"Tim, seriously. What I have to tell you is far more important than all that. It's a chance to be rich. You want to be rich, don't you?"
"Yes, but come on, man. Just one name."
"Amy Van Martin."
"Who's she?"
"You'll meet her your freshman year. Now look--"
"How will I recognize her?"
"She'll be the one named Amy Van Martin. Jesus, Tim. Listen, we only have two minutes, and after that I disappear."
"Why?"
"Who gives a flying shit why? Complicated quantum physics whose explanations are well beyond the scope of this conversation, OK? That's why."
"OK, if you're really from the future, who wins the World Series this year?"
"Jesus, man! I don't know, and it's for the same reason why you don't know who won the World Series two years ago. It's because we hate baseball. Just accept that I am who I say I am and I'm from where I say I'm from and listen to me. OK?"
Tim was quiet.
"Good. Now, in the future, there will be this thing called the Internet. And it's--I don't have enough time to explain what it is but it's going to be huge. Anyway, a few years after you graduate from college you're going to meet a guy named Jeff Bezos, and he's going to ask you if you want to invest in his company. It'll be called Amazon. Here, write this down. Do you have a pen?"
"I'll remember it."
"No, you won't. Write it down. Amazon. Jeff Bezos. Put every bit of money you have into that company. Seriously, Tim. You'll make millions."
Tim wrote in his notebook.
"Promise me you'll do this."
"OK, I promise."
"Good. I wish we had more time to talk, but my time here is--"
And he disappeared.
It was the strangest thing. For just about two minutes Tim had been talking to this guy who knew a scary amount of trivia about him and then he just disappeared.
Tim looked where he'd been standing and then glanced up and down the street.
Nothing.
Then he looked again at the two names he'd written down in his notebook: Karen Boyle and Amy Van Martin.
He closed the door and went back to his living room, feeling pretty good about his prospects for the future.

August 7 - Beyond the Rocks

Tiny waves gently slapped the beach and ran up and down my feet, mixing sand around my toes in swirls of clear water. A couple of gulls tucked themselves into the wind so they stayed suspended in the same place. I rested back on my elbows and squinted over at the outcropping of rocks that jutted out from the cliff and into the sea. When I was a kid I'd played around on them a few times, but never went far enough to see what was on the other side.
One time I'd tried to swim around them, but I got freaked out and turned back when the water got too deep to touch the bottom. I think that was in high school.
I looked again. Someone was climbing over them.
It took the person a few minutes to get over the rocks and then a few more to close the distance between us.
When he got close enough to hear me I said what's up and he said not much.
Then I asked him what was on the other side of the rocks, and he shrugged and said more rocks and continued on his way.

August 6 - Making Amends

I'm not sure which of us feels more awkward about what happened this morning.
Just forget about it, really.
If it were only that easy.
Seriously, just forget about it. Honestly. I have.
I find that hard to believe.
It's true.
If you've really forgotten about it, how do you know we're talking about the same thing?
Just--I've moved on. It happened. No need to dwell on it.
Maybe not for you, but I still feel weird. Your door was ajar, I poked my head in . . .
I know. You've explained yourself. I understand. Seriously, it wasn't intentional. I know I screamed, but that was just out of shock more than anything else. Really, don't give it another thought.
Really.
That's sweet of you, but I can't let it go that easily. I mean, it was only a fraction of a second, but you were . . .
I know.
I mean, not a stitch.
I know. I was there, too.
Full frontal.
Yep.
And I have a photographic memory.
Really, I don't know how else to tell you: Let it go. I know you're trying to make me more comfortable about this, but it's having the opposite effect.
I know, and I apologize. Again. But I think I know why you're uncomfortable.
It's because you're still talking about this after I've told you I don't know how many times to stop.
No . . .
Yes . . .
No, it's because this exchange has been one-sided so far.
Wh--? No. No, seriously.
Yes. The only reason why you can't stop talking about this is because I've seen you, but you haven't seen me.
It's really not. Look, seriously, I'm--
No. Now, listen. I've made up my mind, and you're not talking me out of this. Neither of us is going to be comfortable again until you've seen me naked.
I'm closing my door now.
Not yet, just wait.
Goodbye.
Hold on.
--SLAM--
--Knocking--
Go away.
Not until you open the door.
This is me calling the police.
Look, I'm just as uncomfortable with this as you, but the sooner we get this over with the better off we're going to be.
It's ringing.
OK, I'm ready for my close-up.
. . .
Just one glance and this will all be over.
Yes? Hi, this is Madeline Branford at 17 Lakeshore Drive, apartment 2B. I'd like to report a case of indecent exposure? . . . Male, late 20s, six foot . . . ish. Yes . . . Outside my front door . . . Long story . . . OK, great. Thank you.
They'll be here in five minutes!
This could be over in five seconds if you would just open your door.
Going back to my living room to wait for the police now.
You don't even have to open the door. Just look through the peephole . . . Hello? Are you still there?
. . .
OK, I really think you're being stubborn about this. We could have had this resolved a long time ago, but now we'll just have to deal with it later . . . Hello?
. . .
OK, I'm getting dressed now.
. . .
--Knocking--
Is this the police?
Yes, ma'am. You can open your door now.
Good one. Could you let me know when they arrive?
It's OK, I'm dressed now.
OK.
I'm serious. You can open the door.
OK, I will.
. . .
Hello?
Hi.
I thought you said you were going to open the door.
I will.
I swear to you I'm completely dressed.
Good to hear.
So you can open the door and see.
No, thanks.
You're going to be pretty embarrassed when the police arrive to arrest a fully clothed man for indecent exposure.
No doubt.
Look, I'm trying to help you.
And I appreciate it.
Please, would you just open the door so we can talk about it?
Guess not.
OK, look. Just look out the peephole, OK? You'll be able to see that I'm dressed. Please, I'm starting to feel like a perv out here . . . OK. Tell you what. I'll stand so you can see me from the shoulders up. That way you'll be able to tell I'm dressed.
If I do, will you go away?
Yes.
Promise?
Yes.
OK. I swear to God, if you're lying to me.
I'm not. Seriously.
OK, here I go . . . There. Yes, you're dressed.
You didn't look!
Yes, I did.
No, you didn't.
How do you know? Unless you're not dressed.
. . .
Well?
Shit.

August 5 - Inner Monologue of a Bus Driver Driving Portland Metro Bus Route 17 for the First Time by Himself

OK, and away we go. Thursday evening, cruising along Portland Metro route 17. Solo, bitches. This is not a drill, fools. It's game time.
Got a couple Mountain Dews in my cooler. Got my shades. Got my driving gloves. Feeling good.
Yes, sir. Training is over. I'm in the driver's seat. Calling the shots. The man in charge. This is how it's supposed to feel. Passengers get on, passengers get off.
He he. Passengers get off.
Check out all them nasty passengers getting off back there! Ha ha!
Focus! That's what they always used to tell us during training. Stay focused! And it's like, duh. Of course stay focused. Tell me something I don't know, Mr. Big Important Metro Trainer Asshole Guy, aka Mr. BIMTAG.
Just like the song. Mr. BIMTAG. Tell me: Who do you think you are?
Yeah, you like that one? Just came up with it. Mr. BIMTAG. That's freaking good, man. Can't wait to tell Dale and the rest of my training class about that shit. OK, Mr. BIMTAG. I'll be sure to stay focused. On your mom!
And more passengers get on, and more, ahem, get off, and . . .
Crap.
MLK Avenue.
Which way am I supposed to turn here? I seriously don't remember. Wow, this is embarrassing.
Shit, my mind is seriously blanking on me. Wow, this kind of sucks. If I can just get to the light and have it be red and be the first vehicle in line and see both ways, I should be able to see my next stop.
OK, here it comes. Shit. I'm too far back to see anything. Crap, which way do I go? And why do I keep looking back at the passengers? Like I'm going to be able to read 'go right' or 'go left' on their faces. Can I just ask one of them? They take this bus every day, they must know.
No, I can't. Besides, it's right. I definitely turn right.
OK, here it comes. I'm committed now. Turning right. Let's see how they take it.
Hard to read. It looked like a couple of people were looking around, but that could mean anything.
Cruising along MLK now. Nobody seems too panicked. Besides, this feels right. OK, I remember it from training now. It's all coming back to me. Yeah, I remember that Exxon station. And yes, here comes the stop. Thank God. Yep, Portland Metro Routes 6, 9, 19, and 54.
Wait.
No 17? Why isn't 17 on there?
(BING)
Someone signalled for a stop. What do I do now? I don't think this is the right way after all. Or is it? Should I keep going until the next stop? OK, this sucks. This totally sucks.
Mr. BIMTAG, who do you think you are?
Screw it, I'm stopping at this stop.
OK, and here we go. Coming to a stop, and doors open and . . . nothing. Nothing except everybody looking at me because this is not their stop.
Shit.
OK, cover it up. How? Check the map. Check the ridiculously inconvenient, massive foldout map that it's impossible to find jack shit on, and oh God, what does this asshole want? Yes, good question, sir: Why am I going north on MLK? So, I should be going south? That's what he's saying, right? I guess?
God, how on earth am I going to U-turn this boat across four lanes of rush hour traffic? Got an answer for that one, Mr. BIMTAG, you worthless bastard?
Wait, Lincoln Boulevard is up ahead. I can take the on ramp to Lincoln, bust a quick right, and then take the next right onto the off ramp for southbound MLK. Boom. Back in business.
Boom. Isn't that what that jerkweek Monroe always said during training, boom? Take the fare, give 'em the transfer ticket, and then boom, you're good to go. Who the fuck says that anyways? Good to go. Fuck that asshole. Fuck that asshole and his gloves with the fingers cut off. Seriously.
Never mind that, here we go. Back into traffic, taking the on ramp to Lincoln. Passengers definitely wondering what's going on. Fuck them. It'll all be sorted out soon enough, fuckies. Just keep your panties on, daddy's got a plan. Just gotta get past this red light, which is taking forfreakingever to turn green. Everybody's talking back there. Looking up at me. They know this isn't right, but I'm not going to acknowledge them. Just gotta get this light to turn green so I can get this boat turned around and back on track.
All right, green. Let's go, bitches. Let's go. OK, on Lincoln now. So far, so good. And here comes the exit for MLK. Just gotta get over. Come on, asshole. Go or get out of my lane. Jesus, he's on his cell. Move, asshole!
Fuck it, I've got this. If I gun it I can get in front of him.
Fucker! Now he's speeding up? What, do you own that fucking lane? Just let me in! Fuck, here comes the exit . . .
And there it goes.
It's behind me. I missed the turnoff for MLK south. And as a bonus I am now getting onto I-5 south leaving the city. Oh boy, is this not route 17.
Shit.
Oh, shit.
Yeah, I know, people. I know. I screwed up. Big time.
FUCK!
OK, everybody just needs to sit down while I figure this out. Next exit is in . . . what is it . . . seven miles?! Freaking brilliant.
In this traffic.
With these mutinous assholes.
I hate this job.
Mr. BIMTAG! Who do you think you are?

August 4 - Transcript From the All Things Considered Story about AWARD

Melissa Block: From NPR News, this is All Things Considered. I'm Melissa Block.
Robert Siegel: And I'm Robert Siegel. You may not recognize their names, but you probably remember their roles: the principal from Ferris Bueller's Day Off, the head of the Cobra Kai in The Karate Kid, and the EPA bureaucrat who shuts down the power grid and unleashes a torrent of ghosts on Manhattan in Ghostbusters.
These are all characters that have been described, perhaps a bit colorfully, as douchebags--characters that audiences love to hate and cheer when they get their just desserts, usually in the form of a humbling defeat or a humiliating dress down from a superior. But as Yuki Noguchi reports, the actors who play these parts are nothing like the douchebag characters they portray. And an unusual support group in Hollywood is helping them understand that they're not alone.
Yuki Noguchi (voiceover): Listen to two audio clips from The Karate Kid featuring two different pairs of actors:
AUDIO CLIP 1
Ralph Machio as Daniel LaRusso: You're the best friend I've ever had.
Pat Morita as Mr. Miyagi: You . . . pretty OK, too.
YN (voice over): OK, and now, the second.
AUDIO CLIP 2
Martin Kove as John Kreese: Sweep the leg . . . Do you have a problem with that?
William Zabka as Johnny Lawrence: No, sensei.
Martin Kove as John Kreese: No mercy.
YN (voice over): Which set of actors would you be more likely to avoid if you saw them at a party? If you're like most people, you probably said the actors in the second clip, William Zabka playing the rich preppie bully Johnny Lawrence, and Martin Kove, playing the sadistic sensei of the Cobra Kai dojo, John Kreese.
Throughout their lengthy careers, both Zabka and Kove have had to deal with a lot of dirty looks, negativity, and downright hostility from strangers that they say stems solely from people's apparent belief that they possess the same contemptible attributes possessed by the characters they portray. Or as Zabka more bluntly puts it . . .
William Zabka: (laughing) People look at the characters we play and just assume we're douchebags in real life, too.
YN (voice over): Think back to some of the more memorable movie, um, d-bags from the past 25 years: Paul Gleason as the incompetent and hot-headed principal from The Breakfast Club and then later as the incompetent and hot-headed commanding officer in Die Hard; Jefferey Jones as the bumbling, incompetent principal from Ferris Bueller's Day Off; William Atherton as the smug, middling EPA bureaucrat in Ghostbusters and then later as the smug, middling reporter in Die Hard. One thing they all have in common is movie audiences' overall negative feelings for them, which range from eye rolling dismissal to sneering contempt--feelings, the actors say, that don't stop after the closing credits roll.
Martin Kove played the Cobra Kai sensei in all three Karate Kid movies.
Martin Kove: Oh sure, especially when the first one came out, yeah, I used to get dirty looks all the time. Hell, a few people even tried to pick fights with me. My wife would always tell me I should take it as a compliment, you know, like my performance was so convincing all these people must have thought I was really like that guy (laughs). But it's like, how do I tell these people that John Kreese and the Cobra Kai are make believe without coming across as totally condescending? But that's the corner they back you into: You're either a douchebag or a condescending jerk.
YN (voice over): It was instances like those described by Kove that prompted him, together with William Zabka, to found AWARD, a support and advocacy group for actors who have had similar experiences with casual fans assuming that in real life they are jerks like the characters they play. Although Kove himself is the first to admit it sounds like something out of a movie, AWARD actually stands for Actors Who Aren't Really Douchebags. And it has helped countless actors cope with the negativity that can come with a convincing portrayal of characters with, shall we say, douchebag tendencies. Thomas Wilson played Biff Tannen, the bully from the Back to the Future movies.
Thomas Wilson: AWARD came along at a time when I really needed it. Playing an iconic douchebag like Biff is really a double-edged sword. Sure it got me a lot of parts and recognition, but it also led to a lot of negative notoriety. It got to the point where I couldn't leave my house without some comedian getting in my face, knocking on my head, and saying, "Hello, McFly!" and feeling like he could do so with impunity because obviously if I played such a character in the movies I must be a bad guy in real life too, right?
And then there you are. You let it go and you feel like a jerk. You say something about it, and the guy feels completely justified. You can't win. But AWARD really helped. Just knowing there were other actors out there going through the same thing really made a difference.
WZ: The whole impetus behind AWARD was to help similarly misidentified actors understand that their situation wasn't unique. There were loads of other actors out there that people made fallacious assumptions of douchebag-dom--if that's even a word--about, based only on the parts they played.
YN (voice over): Over the years, a veritable who's who of character actors who have dabbled in douchebaggery have attended at least a few of AWARD's monthly meetings. Gary Cole, the smarmy manager from Office Space; James Spader, the slimy villainous frenemy of Andrew McCarthy in both Pretty in Pink and Less Than Zero; Billy Zane circa Titanic; the list goes on and on.
What they find at AWARD is a sense of community and mutual support, and a chance to remind themselves and others that they are more than the parts they play.
MK: What you have to remember about a Billy Zabka is that he's been acting for more than 25 years. And for people to just assume he's a douchebag in person because he so convincingly played one on a number of occasions in the 80s is not fair. Billy's one of the nicest guys in Hollywood. Ask anyone.
YN (voice over): I did, and Kove's claim was backed up by virtually everyone I talked to--just as Zabka's was about how Kove is also a kind and generous individual, the complete opposite of the character he played in the Karate Kid movies. In fact, the more people I talked to about AWARD members, the more a pattern emerged. In just about every case, it turned out that the actors playing these characters were almost universally well regarded and respected by their peers, perhaps even more so than non-AWARD members. And I'll contritely admit to being a little surprised by this. As Martin Kove's wife said, it's a testament to their talents that I assumed the worst about them. Here's Thomas Wilson again.
TW: The whole point of AWARD is to help actors through these issues and to try to get Hollywood to cast us as something other than douchebags. But more than that, we want to show the world that we're not who we play in these movies. And the first step in that process is feeling good about who we are. AWARD helps us do that.
YN to WZ: You've been in movies for more than 25 years.
WZ: Yes.
YN: And something most moviegoers may not know about you is that you were nominated for an Academy Award for a short film you directed.
WZ: That's right.
YN: And yet, the role that most people will remember you for is . . .
WZ: Johnny from The Karate Kid (laughs).
YN: How does that make you feel?
WZ: Well, certainly it would be great to be recognized for something other than the archetypal blond 80s preppie douchebag, but I suppose it's better than not being recognized at all. You just gotta keep on doing the best work you can do, and eventually people will see you in a more positive light.
YN (voice over): Words of wisdom from an AWARD winning actor. For All Things Considered, I'm Yuki Noguchi.

(Outro music: You're the Best Around by Joe Esposito)

August 3 - Come at Me With This Knife, Johnson!

Come at me with this knife, Johnson.
Sir?
You heard me, Johnson. Attack me. No hesitations. No mercy. No restraint.
Begging your pardon sir, but--
Dammit, Johnson! Your role in this is not to question my orders but to execute them!
Of course, sir.
Then enough with this patter, Johnson. On with the task then.
Right away, sir.
---
Well then?
Terribly sorry, sir.
Would you like me to attack you first, Johnson? Is that what this is all about?
Not at all, sir.
Afraid you might hurt me then? Is that it, Johnson? Do you question my ability to defend myself against a subordinate?
Of course not, sir.
It may surprise you to learn that you are not the first man whose blows I will have parried. I'll have you know I was holding my own in all manners of hand to hand combat when you were failing to hold your own against a diaper.
Very good, sir.
Are we understood then, Johnson?
Yes, sir.
Then enough of this mucking about, Johnson. Carry out the order with which you have been tasked.
Yes, sir . . . Are you ready, sir?
Dammit, Johnson!
Sorry, sir. OK, here it comes, sir . . . Agh.
Good Lord in heaven, Johnson. What was that?
Sir?
If that is your idea of an attack, then I do fear for the future of my beloved republic.
Terribly sorry, sir.
Do you think me a feeble old man, Johnson? Is that it? Incapable of fighting off the attacks of someone less than half my age?
Of course not, sir.
Understand this, Johnson: You may have me in the youth department. I'll readily grant you that. But experience trumps youth in any contest, Johnson. Any contest at all! Understand that and you'll have taken your first step.
Yes, sir.
Would you like to try again, Johnson?
Yes, sir.
There you go, Johnson. That's the old fighting spirit. All right then. Attack at will! Come at me with all you've got, old boy. This old man will be more than ready, don't fret about that.
Yes, sir.
No warnings necessary, Johnson. You've got to be ready at any time. You see, a good soldier never lets his guard down, Johnson. Why, in my early--
AGH!!!!!
My God, Johnson! Have you gone completely mental?
Sir?
You damn near took my ear off!
Very sorry, sir.
For God's sake, man! Do wait until I've finished talking before you try to take my head off--if you don't mind, that is. Assuming that jibes with your murderous M.O.?
Terribly sorry, sir.
Good God, Johnson. You came damn close to making a shish kabob of my eyeball--though I must say you demonstrated quite a bit of spirit there.
Thank you, sir.
Yes indeed, Johnson. Quite a bit of verve indeed.
Thank you, sir.
Though I don't recall anyone telling you to smile, Johnson.
Of course not, sir.
Yes indeed, Johnson. You're coming along quite nicely. Quite--
AGH!!!
Oh that's quite enough of that, Johnson.
Very good, sir.

August 2 - A Spot of Bother at the Lift

Right, so I was on the lift and the doors were closing, and I could tell that the last two people weren't going to make it, so I gave them a nice double barrel attack of the middle fingers as the doors were closing, you know, just for a laugh. A bit of the old insult to injury, you know, as the last thing the miserable sods see before the doors close is my ugly mug flipping them a couple of birds.
Would've been brilliant but some helpful bloke behind me hit the door open button at the last possible second, and I had to back up and make room for them and try to pretend like the whole digit flipping incident never happened. And the really awkward part was that neither of them acknowledged it and we all just rode up together in silence like you always do on the goddamn lift.
But naturally the ride took forever because the lift stopped at every floor, and of course the person who wanted to get off was in the back of the lift, so the geezer I'd flipped off had to get off to let them by, and every time he got back on the lift, that metal hat rack contraption his IV drip was hanging on got caught in the tracks of the sliding doors and his naughty slag of a nurse had to help him dig it out, the miserable bastard.
So anyway, I get to the room and there's Kelly and we hug and everything, and I'm like, Where's your dad? Is that one him? indicating some bloke asleep on the other side of the room. And she's just about to tell me no when the IV geezer from the lift shuffles in and of course he's her father, and after they get through all that pratter about how you doing and all that, she introduces us, and he's far cooler about it than his nurse. He even smiles a bit in a let bygones be bygones kind of way, but his nurse just glowers at me like she caught me trying to nick a tenner from the collection jar at the nurses' station, the old crow.
Anyways, the visit is OK, I guess, but after the first few minutes it's pretty clear that my services aren't needed there anymore, it's all about Kelly and her dad, so I just sit on the extra chair like a bit of last Sunday's pasties.
And then about 14 hours later when we're finally allowed to leave, old Mr. Magnanimous makes a big show of getting up out of bed and shaking me hand again, which was brilliant because by then I'd all but forgotten that I was supposed to feel like a tool for flipping him off all those hours ago.
As far as first meetings go, I suppose mine and Kelly's pop's wasn't the worst one ever, but I think I'm always going to hold a bit of grudge for him not giving me any grief over the lift incident. If he'd just unleashed a spot of the old vitriol on me and then was shut of it, we could have gotten on with our lives. Instead he treated me nicely and I felt like a right twat for the rest of the day. Don't know if I'll ever be able to let that one go.