I have stories to tell. And screw it; it’s been long enough.
One of the men I’ve written about was named Perry. I gave him an alias back then “to protect the innocent,” as I always said. But, in doing so, I was always missing the most Hollywood part of the story: his name (which I really liked, by the way) as a recurring comic bit.
Scene: Couple getting ready for night out in luxury apartment. She is in front of the mirror, touching up hair and putting in her earrings. He is making a phone call.
Man: Reservation for two, please… yes, 7:30 is perfect… Perry… Perry, with a P as in Peter.
Let me interject here to say I found this repeated need to emphasize his name quirky. Maybe even leaning toward self-aggrandizing. But I was quick to grasp that it had been a lifetime of what follows in the making:
Cut to couple arriving at host stand at restaurant.
Host: Welcome you two.
Man: Hi. We’ve got a reservation for 7:30…
Host: And what’s the name?
Host: Great, Barry, I’ve got you right here. Follow me.
This scene replayed itself nearly everywhere we went, over and over. Barry, Gary, Larry, Harry, Terry… the combinations of venues, scenarios and names seemed potentially endless. One could easily imagine Ben Stiller or Jim Carey playing an exasperated Perry as he navigates life being addressed as just about anything but the name he was given.
I thought you might find this memory as amusing as I do — and I imagine Perry has fully embraced online reservation systems where his name gets the respect it deserves.