The World Was Never Enough...Part 2

Back at Venice Beach in 1991, take, for instance, the very shop owner for whom I was now gracing the stage. His grasp of the universe’s layout was—unfortunately— as flimsy as his taste in fashion. When I mentioned that “Yes, Germany is next to Austria,” he nodded sagely before derailing with, “So that’s where the kangaroos are at?”  I blinked. “Close, but, no,” I corrected, suppressing the urge to facepalm into another dimension, “that would be Australia. Different continent. No Bratwurst. No lederhosen. No kangaroos. No overlap whatsoever.”

His blank stare suggested this revelation was both shocking and entirely irrelevant. After all, why bother learning the difference when the crowd is here, the models are posing, and the spotlight is still on you?

However, I now found myself staring down the barrel of a genuine, real-life dilemma. On one hand, here was this talent scout, brimming with what seemed like a disturbingly accurate nose for stardom potential—namely, me. On the other hand, abandoning my friend and little brother to fend for themselves while I chased the bright lights of fame hardly seemed fair.

As if this moral quandary weren’t enough, there was the slightly inconvenient matter of my two remaining months of service in the German Navy. If I didn’t finish that, I’d likely end up on Germany’s most-wanted list, dodging Interpol while praying the German Wehrmacht wouldn’t shoot me on sight as a deserter. And let’s not forget the small complication of my girlfriend back home, blissfully unaware of my imminent rise to Hollywood superstardom—or the stage I was currently prancing about in legally permissible levels of nudity.

So there it was: a three-way crossroads between loyalty, duty, and fame. A simpler man might’ve chosen to flip a coin, but this wasn’t some trivial decision about which side of the bed to sleep on. No, this was my destiny—or at least, my destiny for the next 15 minutes.

Lucky for me, the talent scout swooped in with a lifeline. “Don’t you worry, Marcel! You can head back home, take care of your obligations, and return in two months to kick off your promising career. Unless, of course, you face-plant into a tree and rearrange that face  of yours, nothing can stop your good looks from taking you straight to the top. I admit, this business is a bit... superficial.”

With that, he handed me his business card and waved a cheerful goodbye, leaving me standing there, equal parts relieved and bewildered.

“Great,” I thought. “We can finish our road trip around the West, head back home, and I’ll barrel through the last of my Navy service. While I’m at it, I’ll casually convince my girlfriend that Hollywood is waiting for me—and by extension, her. All we’d need to do is sell everything—including her beloved little convertible—convince her to quit her job, sell my couch, and pack up for sunny California.”

The plan seemed foolproof.

Except, of course, for the minor detail that it was entirely, hysterically ridiculous.

An excerpt from What Could Possibly Go Wrong? Chronicles of Chaos and Courage remains available here. The full book can be ordered here.