Benji in Control
by: E Walk
(© 2009-2011 by the Author)
 

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Chapter 52 

The Longest Weekend

The more I thought about R. B.‘s requests, the more it made sense.  I looked at the clock and it was still early on the West Coast, so I decided to call Mr. Burris.  I dialed the number he had given me.

“This is Dale Burris.”

“Dale, it’s Doug Christiansen.  I talked to everyone concerned and next Monday will work.  We’d like the service to be in the morning, so we can get back to Atlanta at a decent hour, since the boys will be missing school.  Ms Bradford’s son has some specific requests about the service.  There is to be no red carpet and absolutely no pictures are to be taken inside the church.”

“The studio is going to have a difficult time with both those requests.”

“Mr. Burris, if the studio can’t live with Ray, Jr.’s requests, we can always just have the memorial service here in Harwood since this is where Ms Bradford grew up.  Her son doesn’t want her memorial service to become a big circus like spectacle.”

“Doug, I’ll do the best I can, but the studio is really hyping Ms Starr’s acting in the film.  It’s not very often that they get the opportunity turn someone’s personal tragedy into something good.  I’ll keep you advised of the most recent happenings.”

“We’ll be staying at the Hyatt Regency downtown in San Francisco for Friday and Saturday nights.  We’ll fly to L. A. on Sunday night, after the football game.  I’ll let you know where we’ll be staying in L. A.”

Mr. Burris asked, “When do you want to have the reading of the will?”

“Immediately after the memorial service, so we can get back to Atlanta before it gets too late.  The boys have had to miss enough school already and I need to take care of college business.”

On Friday, I picked the boys up at their schools.  We had packed our bags the night before.  When we arrived at the hotel Hyatt Regency, I almost had a stroke.  The clerk at the registration desk tried to tell me that we didn’t have reservations.  Fortunately, I had thought to bring the email confirmation.  I looked at the man, “Get me the manager on duty, immediately.”

A lady came to the counter, “What seems to be the problem?”

I was getting a little angry with the attitudes of the employees of the hotel, “Your clerk tells me that we don’t have reservations.  I have here an email, confirming that we have a reserved suite for tonight and tomorrow night.”

I heard a voice, “Hi Doug, and guys, good to see you.  Does Cole know you're coming?”

“Hi, Mr. Block.  Yes, he has tickets for the game waiting for us.  We have a problem, though.  The hotel says that they don’t have a room for us.”

“That’s odd; this hotel is usually very good about keeping track of the reservations.”

We heard a voice, “Hi guys, I’ve left you a message.  I’ve already registered you.  Our room is 2400.”

I looked at the clerk and the assistant manager, “Do you people have a problem delivering messages to your arriving guests, or something?  I’ll have to remember not to stay here the next time we’re in town.”

The assistant manager apologized, “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, sir.  I don‘t understand why there wasn’t a flashing light when we typed in your name.  Let me try again. …. Nope, there is nothing under the name of Christianson.”

Benji put his hands on his hips in his patented pose, “It might help if you spelled our last name correctly.  It’s Christiansen.”

The young clerk started to turn red.  “I apologize for the inconvenience.  The next time there is a problem like this, I guess I’d better have the people spell their name.”

The assistant manager motioned to the bell captain, “Please take Mr. Christiansen to suite 2400.”

Benji waved him off, “That’s all right, sir.  We can carry our own bags and Dad can show us the way.”

As soon as we got to the room, Mikey complained, “Daddy, I’m hungry.  Can we get some food?”

Cole responded, “Let’s ask one the people who work here where they eat.  The hotel has some restaurants, but the ones that are open now are fancy.”

We returned to the lobby and Benji went to the concierge, “Mister, can you please tell me where there is a restaurant that a kid like me would like to eat in and is close enough for us to walk there?”

The young man looked at our group, “There’s a pizza place not too far, or there is a diner where I eat if I’m not working.  They don’t serve fancy foods but you won’t be hungry either.”

Benji grinned, “That sounds like our kind of place.”

The young man nodded, “They have some great pies for dessert.”

We got the directions and it was definitely a place where the locals ate.  The food was very good.  The concierge was correct in that their pies were some of the best I have ever had.  As we were finishing, our waiter looked at Cole and asked, “You’re the opposition are you?”

Cole played ignorant, “What am I the opposite of?”

The young man laughed, “I don’t think you’re a Forty Niner, so you must be a Falcon.  You’re the quarterback that everyone is talking about, Cole Weaver.  Can I have your autograph?”

Benji giggled, “Dad forgot to bring his roll of toilet tissue that he uses for autographs.   Do you have a bathroom, so I can go get a piece of tissue for him to autograph?”

The young man laughed, “Mr. Weaver, how about autographing the menu, and we can put it up to advertise that the All Star Quarterback, Cole Weaver, ate here.”

Cole raised his eyebrows, “That would be false advertising, wouldn’t it?  I haven’t been an all star, and probably never will be.”

The young man shook his head, “Don’t be so modest.  You’re the only reason Sunday’s game is sold out.”

Cole signed the menu and the young waiter yelled, “Dad, I just got Cole Weaver’s autograph.  I’ll put it in the case that says, ‘These celebrities have eaten here.’”

Guess where we ate all of our meals while we were in San Francisco.  Their prices certainly beat the prices in the hotel and the service was much more personable, even when Cole wasn’t with us.

Cole had to leave early on Sunday for the team breakfast.  After we ate, we checked out and stored our bags so we could leave immediately after the game.  We arrived at the stadium early and made our way to our seats.  Benji observed, “Daddy, these people aren’t as happy as the people in Atlanta.  They all have frowns on their faces.”

“Benji, that’s because we’ve gotten to know a lot of the people who sit around us.  These people haven’t had much to be cheerful about, this year.  They’ve only won three games, so far.”

We were in the second set of box seats, behind the Falcon’s bench, which were perfect seats.  As Cole came onto the field at the start of the game, he looked at us and saluted.  The boys yelled, “Go get’em, Dad.”

 A teenage boy turned around, “What are you doing sitting here if you’re Atlanta fans?”

Benji took offense, “I didn’t see a sign that said reserved for Forty Niner fans.  Our Dad got the seats for us.  We came the whole way from Georgia to see the game.  Besides, this is the Atlanta side.  Why are you sitting here?”

“My family has had these seats since the stadium first opened.  Usually the people who sit behind us are Forty Niner fans.  Who is your Dad, anyway?”

Matt answered, “Our Dad is Cole Weaver.”

The guy looked around, “He can’t be your Dad.”

The six boys asked in unison, “Why not?”

“Because he’s black and you guys are all white, except for the kid on the end.”

Benji explained, “He’s our other Dad.  Our Daddy is sitting here with us.”

The conversation was interrupted by an older lady taking the last seat in our box. “Hi guys, I’m Eleanor West.  Might I ask who you are?”

I stood and shook her hand, “I’m Doug Christiansen and these are our sons, Mikey, Matt, Mark, Benji, Rocky and R.B.”

The boys were shaking hands with the lady when the game started.  Atlanta received the opening kickoff and the kick returner was tackled on the twelve yard line.  The offensive team came onto the field and the boys stood and yelled, “Go Falcons.”

One the first play of the series, it looked as if Cole was going to be sacked for a loss.  He started scrambling and threw a beautiful spiral pass to his tight end who was wide open and scored a touchdown.  That was to set the tenor for the entire first half.  Atlanta could do no wrong, or to put it more precisely, San Francisco couldn’t do anything right.

During halftime, Ms West offered to buy the guys a hotdog and a soda.  They weren’t bashful about accepting the offer.  I watched to see and all six of the boys thanked her for the snacks.  Ms West was talking to the boys and somehow the subject of R. B.’s mother came up.

R. B. grinned, “Hope Starr was my Mother.  We’re leaving right after the game for Los Angeles so we can be there to attend her memorial service.”

“So, you’re Ray, Jr.  I expected to see someone who was older.  I was there when your mother fell overboard.  She was standing at the front of the boat and all of a sudden it was like she was pulled overboard.  I haven’t seen the edits of the films, but it will be interesting to see what they can find.  I understand that the FBI has confiscated the original film to see if they can find any indication of foul play.”

I asked, “What were you doing when the accident happened?”

Ms West answered, “I was standing next to the director.  He wanted to make some changes in Hope’s costume to make it even showier than it was.  We heard Hope scream and that was the last we saw of her.  I’m planning to go to the memorial tomorrow, even though she was not an easy person to work with.  She had her own ideas of how things should be and was determined to have everything her way.  I understand that the films they found in her house are going to shake the movie industry big time.  In fact they have a lot of big names suddenly leaving town.”

After the game, Cole came up into the stands to talk to the guys as he does in Atlanta.  He was immediately surrounded by autograph seekers.  He yelled at us as we were leaving, “I’ll meet you at the airport.  If I don’t catch the same flight I’ll be on the next one.  Wait to eat dinner until I arrive.”

When we were checked in for our flight, there was no sign of Cole.  I figured he got held up and would be on the next flight.  They were getting ready to close the door when Cole and Ms West entered.  Cole’s seat was next to me, and Ms West was seated on the row with Benji and R. B.   I thought to myself, ‘That is certainly an odd coincidence‘.  We were to find out that she had got the last seat on the plane.

When we landed in L.A., we were met at the exit gate by two men holding signs that said Lewis party.  I almost walked by them, but Benji grabbed my arm, “Daddy, those people are probably looking for R. B.”

I went up to the two gentlemen, “Why are you looking for the Lewis party?”

One of the men spoke up, “We’re from the Aegean Studio and we have limousines to take the Lewis party wherever they want to go while they’re here.”

“R. J., come here and introduce yourself to these gentlemen.  They have limos to take us where we need to go.”

The conversation was interrupted by Mr. Burris, “Sorry, I’m late.   I got caught up in traffic.  These gentlemen were hired by the studio to take you anywhere you want, while you’re in town.”

I nodded, “Great, we’d like to go to the Omni Hotel.”

Mr. Burris nodded, “That’s a good hotel.  It’s near the church where the memorial service is being held.  The service will actually be held in a chapel adjacent to the church.  There are provisions to open partitions to seat as many people as necessary.”

Mr. Burris explained, “I was able to get the studio to back down on having a red carpet, but they have no control over the press.   The press will probably be all over the place.  The studios have no control over them.  We can check with the clergy to see what can be done about not having any photography being taken inside the chapel.”

“I honestly don’t know what to expect.  The studio has rounded up some young actors to act as ushers to seat the people.  They have reserved the entire front row for you people.”

I looked at the guys, “Why don’t we go to the hotel for tonight, so our drivers can spend the evening at home?  Surely we can find someplace to eat in the area of the hotel.”

When the two limousines pulled up in front of the Omni, there were two bell people there to open the doors and take our luggage, even though we could have managed ourselves.  When we arrived at the registration desk, the young woman looked up, “You must be the Christiansen/Lewis party, since that is the only open room we have that would accommodate this many people.  Would the two adults, please fill out the registration cards.”

Cole looked rather funny, “Isn’t it rather odd to have all the adults fill out registration forms?”

The young lady giggled, “I was trying to get a copy of your autograph, Mr. Weaver, without you realizing what I was doing.  Since you have some people with different names in your party, you might put the boys’ names on the cards, so we can get the calls to the right room, if they should receive a call.”

We had a nice suite with three bedrooms so we weren’t going to be crowded.  Cole and I could get some exercise since he didn’t have a game or practice until Tuesday.  We decided to go to eat in the coffee shop and stay in for the night, since we were all tired.

I woke up early, decided to splurge and ordered us breakfast in our room so the guys could sleep as late as possible since it was going to be a long stressful day, especially for R. B.”

I ordered the breakfast and woke the boys so they would be decent when the food arrived.  They only had on their slacks and tee shirts when the food arrived, because I didn’t want them to get their shirts and ties dirty since we only brought one for each of the boys.

After our very expensive breakfast, I called the desk and told them that we would be checking out and asked that they send a person to get our luggage.  I also called the limousine service number and asked them to be available in front of the hotel in twenty minutes. 

When I went to check out, the clerk informed me that the bill was being paid by Aegean Studios.  I thanked the young woman and the limos were already loaded.  Cole had even already tipped the bell person.

We could have probably walked to the chapel faster than we rode, but the limos would be standing by to take us to Mr. Burris’ office after the service.  Our luggage was in the back of them and we could go directly to the airport for our three o’clock flight.

When we pulled up in front of the chapel, the photographers and television personnel were already waiting to catch the shots of the celebrities arriving.  We must have been some of the first to arrive and of course they didn’t recognize us.  One of the young photographers approached us, “Who are you?  Did you know Ms Starr?”

I looked at R. B. to see if he wanted to answer.  He nodded and started, “I guess I knew the person you knew as Ms Starr better than anyone else.  She was my mother.  I think me and my family have every right to be here, but why are you here?  I specifically asked that the press and media not make a spectacle of my mother’s memorial service.  May I see your camera?”

The young photographer handed the camera to R. B. only to see it being flung to the ground.  “There, that is what I think of you people.  This is a memorial service for someone who just died, and you’re trying to make a circus of it.  Now leave.”

R. B. hadn’t realized what he was doing, but he was giving the media just what they wanted.  Some different action.  Cole leaned over to me, “I think R. B. just created a hornet’s nest.” 

To be continued...

Editor's Notes:  I tend to agree with Cole.  (is this going to be a rant?)

It has always been a sore point for me to see reporters and photographers take advantage of people who have suffered a great loss, either of loved ones, or some sort of property.

They always ask the totally stupidest questions, "How do you feel about your house burning to the ground, and are you going to miss your grandmother and your parents, who were trapped inside when the building exploded in flames?" 

The golden retriever managed to get the little three year old out without a scratch, and had gone back in the building to rescue her parents and grandmother, but he died in the attempt, and wasn't able to rescue any of the adults, so the reporters ask the little girl how she feels about losing her parents, grandmother and her faithful dog.     

I am not really exaggerating all that much.  Reporters seem to lose all thought of the stupidity of asking how people feel after a tragedy.

Then the lawyers show up and ask if the people are going to sue the company that made the stove that blew up and set the house on fire, even though, someone left a burner on under the deep fryer on the stove.

No I am not going to go ranting about the woman with the scalding hot coffee from McDonald’s.

The only winners in that case were the lawyers.

I can hardly wait for the next chapter.

Darryl AKA The Radio Rancher 

Posted: 01/28/11