Doris' Journal

Journal of the Master Nail Biter

Sunday, October 03, 2004

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Yesterday, while I was putting gas into my truck, a soldier dressed in his office uniform pulled up to the pump across from mine. He said, "Hello," and then began pumping gas into his rental car while making a record of the fill in his notebook.

"Where you from?" He asked.

I though it was a bit odd. Why not assume I am from LA? He hasn't heard me talk, yet.

"Georgia," I answered.

"I figured you weren't from around here. You look as out of place as I feel," he explained. "I was stationed in Georgia for a while - Ft. Benning."

We made small talk for a second before he asked, "What brought you to California? The movies?"

"Yes," I answered. I hate saying that. It's so terribly typical and average Joe to be an actor in LA.

"Well," he said, "You're the first movie star I've met."

I shook my head and laughed. "I'm no movie star."

"Well, first actor I've met then," he corrected himself.

After a few more seconds he said, "I finally meet an actor as I'm on my way out of town."

"Where you going?" I asked.

"Iraq."

We didn't say much for a few minutes... simply finished pumping gas into our vehicles.

As I was getting my receipt from the pump and preparing to leave, he added, "Yep. I'm going to Iraq so you can keep making movies."

I thanked him and left.

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