Hollywood Director 1992

[Chapter 5: The Ticket]

"Hey, buddy, you finally woke up. Someone stole your backpack," someone next to him said.

Link snapped back to reality and looked down, his stomach dropping. He had worried about theft the night before, clutching his backpack close to him while he slept, but now his arms only wrapped around emptiness.

He was shocked -- had the tape been stolen? With limited funding during the production of Buried, he had only made two copies. He had given one to the Sundance Film Festival, but after the festival ended, he had no idea where it ended up. The other copy remained with him; if it got stolen, all hope would be lost.

Link's forehead began to sweat.

"Did you lose something valuable? The thieves were two guys, and they had a knife. You can report it to the conductor," said a passenger in the neighboring seat.

As Link rose to find the conductor, he instinctively patted his jacket and felt a rectangular package -- he sighed with relief. Considering how many thieves there were on trains, it was a smart move to stash his tape close to him. He had tucked it inside his shirt and placed his wallet on his stomach, obscured by his backpack.

His backpack only contained a few toiletries, three pairs of underwear he hadn't washed yet, and half a roll of tissues he had grabbed from the hotel.

...

Just as he was about to express his gratitude to the neighboring passenger, the conductor approached to check tickets.

Passengers typically didn't show tickets when boarding, but midway through the journey, conductors would come around to check. Anyone without a ticket would be asked to get off.

Link walked over and told the conductor, "I got robbed. Two guys took my backpack, and now I can't find my ticket from Salt Lake City to Los Angeles. I need your help to get it back."

He turned to the neighboring passenger to corroborate his story. A few people confirmed that they witnessed it.

"I'm a director who came to Park City for the Sundance Film Festival. I really didn't expect to run into thieves on the way back. It's been an unpleasant experience," Link said.

After clarifying the situation, the conductor handed him a small tag to replace his ticket, indicating that the train would do its best to help him recover his lost belongings.

Link took the tag and thanked the conductor politely.

...

"Hey, dude, want a drink? Let's toast to your bad luck," a young man in the next seat offered, handing Link a can of Budweiser.

"Thanks, man! I really appreciate the gesture," Link replied, taking the beer.

The young man opposite him looked to be in his twenties, with short, light brown hair and a regular face -- nothing particularly special about him. The only notable thing was that he bore a striking resemblance to a young Matt Damon.

Beside him sat his friend, a taller and more handsome guy dressed in a gray hoodie and blue jeans, wearing a bland expression on his face.

His demeanor didn't change much whether Link was explaining the theft or confronting the conductor. The guy seemed completely disinterested in speaking.

He looked a lot like Ben Affleck, Matt Damon's close friend known for starring in Pearl Harbor and the Martha-Batman. With both of them sitting together, it felt like they were part of an impersonation sketch.

"No problem. So, you mentioned you're a director coming back from Sundance?" Matt Damon said, sizing him up as if trying to guess his identity by his looks.

However, from Link's appearance, there wasn't much to decipher. He wore a long black puffer coat, blue jeans, and his clothes were riddled with wrinkles. The jeans looked like they hadn't been washed in ages, with noticeable stains on the blue and white fabric, while his white sneakers had yellowed laces.

From this, he fit the stereotype of many directors who didn't care much about their appearance. Yet, he was far too young, his appearance was handsome and immature, and his clothes were too poor.

As we all know, in the entertainment industry, people who are relatively wealthy or have good connections are suitable to be directors, while poor people are only suitable to be actors and play supporting roles.

"Yeah, I'm a director. Last year, I made a movie called Buried. It's about a guy who gets buried in a wooden box at a construction site, and he calls for help. But the police have no idea where he is, so he has to find a way to save himself," Link explained, giving a brief synopsis of the film.

"Wow, that sounds interesting! I love it," Matt said, shaking his legs, fingers tapping on his knee.

"Thanks! But this year at Sundance, there were so many excellent independent films, like Alexandre Rockwell's In the Soup, Anthony Drazan's Zebrahead, and Quentin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs, that my film didn't win any awards. Critics had good things to say about it, though."

Link took a few sips of beer, realizing he hadn't eaten since breakfast and his wallet was as clean as his face. For now, the beer would have to suffice.

"That sounds great! Have you found a distribution company yet? When does it premiere? I'll definitely check it out," Matt Damon asked.

"Yes, some distributors reached out to me, but their offers were lower than expected. So, I haven't finalized anything yet. As soon as I get back to Los Angeles, I'll negotiate again. If all goes well, it should be out next month," Link said, using the beer can to hide his lips while he spoke.

"Here's to hoping you have a blockbuster hit."

"Thanks!" Link clinked his can with Matt Damon's, casually asking where they were from and what their names were.

Matt Damon turned out to be exactly that -- Matt Damon, with his stoic friend, Ben Affleck, beside him.

They came from Cambridge, Massachusetts, and had grown up in the same neighborhood. Matt had enrolled at Harvard the year before but dropped out this year to chase his dreams in Hollywood alongside Ben.

A few days prior, while passing through Las Vegas, Ben suggested they gamble, only to lose it all in one go. Matt pointed at Ben, saying it wasn't that he didn't want to chat; he was just in a bad mood after losing all his cash.

Link laughed, sharing that he had just experienced theft too, suggesting they toast to their bad luck.

...

"Mr. Link, is this your backpack?" The conductor, who had been checking tickets earlier, returned holding a gray-black backpack -- exactly the one Link had lost.

It looked dusty, almost as if it had been picked from a dumpster.

"God bless! That's mine! Sir, I can't thank you enough!" Link exclaimed, surprised to receive it back.

"No need to thank us; it's our job. Take a look inside. We can keep searching if something else is missing," the conductor said.

Link rifled through his belongings, finding everything intact, but he discovered a note inside that read -- "Damn poor guy, what were you holding it so tight for?"

He thanked the conductor again, stating he had only lost a bag of chips, his ticket, and a walkman.

The conductor expressed sympathy, asking for his address so they could mail him any found items later.

*****

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