The Advocate.

About a quarter a century ago, back in a time when personal cell phones were for millionaires and ska trombones were all the rage, my AIM messenger flashed: “beach party tonight, and there will be BOOZE.” I was still not old enough to buy a lotto ticket, but I wouldn’t dare miss out on an opportunity to secure my social status by showing my high school peers how my Coors Lights I could consume in a beach chair.?

The slush-fest was to be held in a beach shack, nestled among the sand dunes and sea grape of Florida’s Treasure Coast. Normally, it would be a place where beachgoers could rinse off or have a picnic, but this night, it would become the epicenter of chug-town. I was about two cans in when I was ambushed by blinding flashlights and squawking CB radios. Shit, It was the coppers… buzzkill.?

About 5 or 6 officers brought the party vagabonds outside of the shack, the cops drew a line in the sand. “Everyone who’s been drinking at this party, please cross the line.” Now, whether this was an act of honesty, bravery or stupidity is up for debate… I always felt telling the truth was the best policy, not to mention my AP classes didn't quite cover what my Miranda rights were . I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and crossed the line. I was sure my classmates were all doing the same type of deep soul searching... and yet, in that moment when I turned around to see who had joined me… Shit. I was the only one who crossed the line.

Some of the girls were giggling at me. One of the guys, a senior football player, looked me dead-ass in the eye and said, “you’re a fucking idiot.” I suddenly was overcome with a stomach-churning Oppenheimer moment: “My god, what have I done?” I quickly realized I’d been had by criminal justice system of the Indian River Shores Police Department. “Alright, the rest of you come with us,” the police said to the sweat-stained party-goers… “And?YOU," Shining a flashlight in my eyes, "You stay right there.”?

Now I’m sure it couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but a lot was racing through my 17-year-old pubescent brain. My parents were going to kill me, my reputation with them would be in taters. I’d never be allowed out of the house again and my Friday nights would forever be stuck watching America’s Most Wanted and watching my mom painting her magenta toenails.?And my friends already think I'm a loser, a sell out to the man... no one likes a narc. I will be booked with a felony, never get into college now, and will probably have to register on some underage drunk offenders list.

The officer returned. “So, how many beers did you have?” “Just one sir,” I timidly replied. In truth, I had about 2 and a half, but the adrenaline had sobered me up and I was over being fully compliant. “You know, I used to come here myself and do the same thing when I was your age.” he chuckled. I mimicked his laugh, trying to mask the fear of my fate. “I appreciated your honesty, back there," he said as he shined the flashlight in my eyes; making sure my pupils weren’t fully dilated like some cocaine cowboy. “You're free to go, get out of here.”?

And then, in an ironic twist of fate, I strolled past the rest of the partygoers. They were all getting citations and the police were notifying their parents. A scene I could best describe as a lot of single tear sad emoji faces. Of course, I couldn’t help calling out that football player, who was in the midst of signing his ticket… ?“who’s the idiot now?” I got in my car and drove off with a clean slate.

Fast forward 25 years, and I still don’t know if making a videos advocating for out-of-work entertainment workers is an act of honesty, bravery or stupidity -but after hearing the fears and worries of so many of my fellow colleagues, it still felt like it was the right thing to do. Last week, a producer friend of mine joked that when production starts up again, they might make a mural of me somewhere in the Valley… but “that would be the last time you see my face around Hollywood” indicating I might have damaged my reputation with the powers-that-be.?But now I don't sense that to be the case.

Instead, I’ve seen an outpouring of support and messages that encourage me to keep going. The only thing is, although I was the first to cross the line this time… I’m hoping more will join me in doing so this time around. Attempting to make any headway on blind faith is scary, but doing an act that's unprecedented isn’t always a road to perdition… -especially when the cause is just. It actually can be the first step toward advocacy and change.?And that's what I'm going for here. Our industry colleagues need help and soon. The situation is dire for many.

Over the last week, I've seen so many TV and Film folks, breaking out of their shells; stepping out of their comfort zones and making their voices just a tiny bit louder. But momentum can easily shift within news cycles, and we’re still not quite there yet for getting our crisis into the mainstream. We still need to let the world know that Hollywood is in despair. Collectively we ALL need keep pounding the drum and make our voices heard.

And if in 1998, a lanky, 17-year-old nerd in a?No Fear?T-shirt could do it, I assure you, anyone else can.

So what are you waiting for?