...though I didn't work for Universal Studios Theme Park itself. I was one of the wranglers of the monkeys hocking the poorly printed and overpriced photos of the raft riders.

Ach! Those were the days. The commission checks were HUGE in the first year. I clearly remember many of the Universal employees hating our crew because of the pay difference. There were some great times to be had. Fights with customers drunk off $6 beer...putting Ellen Barkin in her place...unwittingly going nose to nose with the theme parks president and winning...telling guests they could not buy their photo because a 'celebrity' was on the ride...the Spitter heads that would break, fly off their bodies, land in the rafts and cover the guests with hot oil...Michael Jackson dressed as an Islamic woman to avoid being noticed by guests...Rosie O'Donnell complaining to Shirley Jones in low tones about how she 'hated' her 'fucking fans'...an employee mistaking Ellen Burstyn for Dee Wallace and telling her how E.T. was his favorite movie (she took it in stride and seemed very good-natured about it)...Steven Spielberg humiliating his own PA for giving me a difficult time...sitting on the bridge over the T-Rex and wiping the camera lens because the mist from the waterfall was covering the lens...

Man! So many stories from those years. You see celebrities that don't want to be noticed and are more than happy to do mundane things like wait in line. And you meet others that feel like they are the most important cat in the joint and everyone should clear the way and give them everything for free. That was all back in the days when all you needed was a nice suit and you could walk on property no questions asked. It was a fun time and I stay close friends with a number of people I knew from Universal.

Out of morbid curiosity, were you lower-terrace or upper-terrace folk, Mori?

Those are some awesome memories you've got... especially the Dilophasaurus heads covering the guests in hot oil... that's pure gold.

Don't buy shit to get to the front of the line. 20 dollars better come with a fucking H.J. at least.

Basically, I was asked to keep our part of 'Outfitters' (which is the name of the JP specialty store) open past closing for a group of Japanese investors who wanted to go on the ride. Spielberg accompanied the investors on their first ride, but he and his personal assistant got off the ride as the investors went for a second go around. Spielberg's PA come to me and ordered a large number of 8x10's for the investors. I printed them up, put them in frames and bagged them.

Now this is where things got wonky. Spielberg was standing a few feet away waiting for the rafts return. His assistant came to collect the pictures and was stunned when I asked for his Celebrity Pass (I may be remembering that name incorrectly). This paper is used by celebrities for purchases within the park and Universal will then reimburse the store for the purchases. He snapped at me a little, informing me that he did not need one. I said 'fine' and informed him of his $140 total. He scoffed and told me he did not have to pay. I informed him that our company was not part of Universal and without the Celeb Pass, he would need to pay. This, of course, did not help. His weasel face reddening, he asked me if I knew who 'he' was (pointing to Spielberg who had taken several steps backward to hear our conversation better) and I nodded.

Then came the classic line used by so many little helpers in Hollywood: "If it wasn't for him, you wouldn't even have a job!". I answered with "Actually I would still have a job with my company, just at a different location. Plus, we work on commission. So if you don't pay, I don't get paid." Imagine a pear in a suit with a tomato for a head about to explode. That was the PA as he was trying to stay calm. Perhaps not being denied anything since he took up working with a Hollywood heavy hitter had skewered his reality some.

Spielberg, by this time, was leaning against the counter with his back to me. Hands buried in the pockets of his still damp denim jacket. Baseball cap on his head and staring towards the dock area just outside the store. As the PA began to engage in argument again, Spielberg spoke. In a calm voice and without turning his head, he asked "What's the problem?" Blurting out his words in offended anger, the PA spat out "He expects us to pay!" "How much is it?" "It's $140! He said we had to have a Celeb..."

Now the PA spoke on, but I swear the volume faded. It was like all other sound dropped away, the PA and I only hearing Spielberg when he spoke. Turning his head slowly towards his assistant, looking at him like a father scolding his child, he spoke with what I can only call whimsical irritation…

”I…thi nk I can afford that.”

I’ve never seen a man shrink three feet in real life before or ever again. I’d swear the assistants lip was quivering as he produced a corporate card and handed it over. He was a dog defanged, declawed, and neutered all at once by his master and it all happened in an instant. All in front of the other dog he was barking at. Needless to say, the assistant was quiet and polite after that moment. I already liked Spielberg, but my respect grew because of that. Seems like a guy who really knows where his towel is.