The Party

Father and Son

So last night I take Karen (my ex) and Stanley (my son) to the Illumination summer party, a little cotillion at some place called the "Bungalow," which is basically an upscale white man Hilton to the stars out in Santa Monica on the west edge of Wilshire. (Illumination is the company I work for and famous for the Minions among other current animation staples.)

We give our vehicle to the valet and saunter over to the party, which is being held in an outdoor tent, and check-in with a heavy-set and ear-pieced, blue blazer wearing security brother who stands at a lectern with the guest list. I tell him my name. He nods, then gives Stanley the once over and says, is this kid twenty-one or what. I mean, let’s see some I.D. here?

He doesn't say it quite like that, but that's the gist, and so we cop to the fact that the boy is just nineteen. The security cat shakes his well-groomed and Secret Service worthy head. “Sorry, he can’t go in.”

Hold on. Wait a minute. This is show business. We only got into it to so we’d be treated special. Besides, he’s nineteen. Do you know what I was doing at nineteen? Do you know what I was doing at thirteen!? Come on bra, it’s only two years, ease up. I don’t exactly say that though I convey the feeling, but in a good-natured, non-confrontational way. The security cat smiles warmly but remains unmoved.

Is this really happening? It’s a mid-summer party for the people who make Secret Life of Pets, not a strip club. I step inside and plead my case to Chris, my old friend and boss who runs Illumination and is the host. Chris comes out to take care of it, but not even the Il Duce of Despicable Me can sway the powers that be. It’s a no go for Stanley.

But as I said, this is the movie business and there is always a way to “get the shot,” so of course I am willing when another guest comes outside and shows us how we can sneak around back. She doesn’t seem to grasp that voices should be kept low when subterfuge is being discussed and the security cat can clearly sense we are up to no good. But we don’t let his vibe deter us, and when he goes back to his guest list we slink around back. All we need to do is duck under a little rope and we’re in, but then Stanley throws a wrench into the works.

"I'm not sneaking in" he says, “sorry.”

“Why not?”

“Because… I don’t sneak.”

And that right there is Stanley. A unique mixture of honorable and anxious, he does not sneak, he does not lie, he does not break rules. He grew up in a house where dark arts were being practiced behind closed doors and he sensed danger from the beginning. Trouble was being made and he didn’t want any part of it, and still doesn’t.

I LOVE this about him. I can't comprehend it, but I love it. Not break the rules? What a thought! To actually do what is asked of you? To not take it for granted that what applies to everyone else DOES NOT apply to you? Who is this fucking kid and where did we get him? He'd rather do things right than go to the party (and possibly drink tequila 'til he’s shit faced).

I do a quick double-check, just to make sure this isn’t the night where he goes rogue, but he is steadfast and unshakable. Karen and I will go in for ten minutes, say our hellos and leave. We end up staying a twenty, and when we step back out we find Stanley now behind the lectern, pen in hand, checking names off the guest list. The security cat has put him to work! The two of them are now pals and Stanley is as happy as a clam. “Go back in and enjoy the party” he tells us. “I’m having a great time.”

We stay an hour or so, telling everyone the story. Chris especially gets a kick out it. When we finally leave, the security cat tells us Stanley can get a job there next summer if he wants and that he is one hundred percent sure Stanley is going to be a big writer someday. It's a love fest! All because Stanley has a lot of integrity and Karen and I have learned to have a little.