Back When I was Famous

In 1998 I spent my summer as a Hollywood extra.

Every day brought a different ridiculous assignment.

On Monday I danced in my swim trunks for the movie She’s All That. On Tuesday I enjoyed a romantic dinner with an older woman on the The Love Boat. On Wednesday I graduated high school with the cast of Boy Meets World.

And man did it pay well. $40 a day! Unless of course they threw water on you or humiliated you in some other fashion, in which case you could request a bump to $50. The whole summer was absurdly hilarious. But nothing could match what happened on the set of the hit ABC sitcom Home Improvement.

It was teen heartthrob Jonathan Taylor Thomas’ final episode and his character was boarding a plane to Costa Rica while Tim Allen and the rest of his family said goodbye.

Wardrobe handed me a Hawaiian shirt and props handed me a plane ticket and the assistant director said that when they called “ACTION!” I needed to cross the set, give my ticket to the gate agent, then walk toward the imaginary plane and wait for them to yell “CUT!”

What could go wrong?

Well, a lot.

Because just as we’re about to do the first take in front of the live studio audience, another extra walks up to me and says, “So what’s our backstory?”

I stared back blankly. “What do you mean?”

“Why are we going to Costa Rica?” he asked.

I of course hadn’t thought about how my character’s journey played into the larger H.I.U. (Home Improvement Universe).

He didn’t wait for me to come up with something. “We’re best friends and we’re going on a surf trip,” he declared.

I nodded. That made sense. I mean they had given me a Hawaiian shirt.

“But really we’re more than surfers,” he continued. “We’re also pranksters. And so when we get to the gate, I’m going to switch tickets with you to confuse the agent. And then we can cross our hands back and forth a few times to make it extra funny.”

That did seem funny but it also made me nervous. This was not how extras behaved on The Love Boat.

“Trust me,” he promised. “This will be great.”

This person I did not know was very confident about this plan. And in his defense, the cast did seem sad from having to bid farewell to Jonathan Taylor Thomas after 8 seasons. Maybe what the moment needed was the levity that only two surfer-pranksters could bring.

“All right,” I said, my heart quickening as the audience quieted. “Let’s go for it.”

From a nearby director’s chair came a booming voice. “Ready… and… ACTION!”

We made our way to the gate. My friend held out his ticket to the agent then quickly traded it with mine. Then we moved onto the crossing arms gag. We hadn’t practiced this move but we were completely in sync. It seemed like my entire career as a non-speaking background actor had been building to this transcendent moment.

Naturally, the extra playing the gate agent didn’t know about our plan, but that just added to the realism as she tried to grab our tickets while we, like wizards, kept them away from her. Finally, sensing Jonathan on our heels, we handed her the correct tickets and disappeared down the gate.

“CUT!”

Obviously we nailed our part so I was a little surprised when the director marched past Tim Allen and made a beeline toward us.

He practically pinned us against the wobbly wood wall of the airport set. “What was that?” he asked.

Suddenly my friend—the guy who five minutes ago thought he was the Daniel Day-Lewis of extras—went silent.

“Well…” I stammered. “You see, he and I are surfers and—”

“JUST GIVE HER THE DAMN TICKETS!” he barked.

I was mortified. And crestfallen. That’s when I learned the rub of being an extra. Doing your job well means that you’re never actually noticed.

And, really, isn’t that one of our biggest fears? To exist… but not really. To float through the world making no discernible impact on anything.

I confess that some days I still feel like an extra, even now. But then I remember the vital roles I’ve been given. As a dad. As a husband. As a writer of stuff that makes people laugh and stirs up souls.

There are juicier parts out there. Maybe even fame and fortune. But do you really want that? Or is there plenty of meaning and adventure to be found right where you are.