People in America: My Uncle Don Quixote

Chapter 320 Ground-to-Air and Air-to-Ground Missiles (Seeking Monthly Tickets)

Los Angeles, 4:45 a.m.

The alarm clock rang.

Jason Miller removed his blindfold and quickly reached into the dark to turn off the alarm clock.

He slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, placing his feet on the cold floor, using the cold to try and clear his head, like an old machine waiting to be refueled.

"Jason?" Megan's voice came from beside him. "Hmm... what time is it?"

"It's okay, honey," Jason Miller said. "Go to sleep, I have to go to work."

"But now..." Megan groggily picked up her phone, "It's only 4:46."

"We have a lot of things to do today," Jason said, turning to kiss his wife. "You should get some more sleep."

"It's always like this..." Megan muttered, "I don't know when I'll ever get through this busy period."

2

Jason opened his mouth, but wisely refrained from replying.

If he chooses to talk back, then he can forget about leaving the house before 5:30.

For the next 20 minutes, they would argue about everything from the alarm clock to the mortgage, then from the mortgage to why he was still just an outsourcing producer after 10 years at NBC, and then to why he didn't pick up his mother from the airport when she last came to Los Angeles.

Fortunately, Megan fell back asleep a few seconds after she finished talking, and Jason breathed a sigh of relief and got out of bed.

The term "outsourcing producer" is euphemistically called "producer," but more accurately, it's a high-level errand runner.

He is responsible for liaising with clients, arranging itineraries, coordinating venues, and handling emergencies, but his name will not appear in the first three lines of the end credits.

A location producer in Los Angeles earns only $12 to $15 a year. California's taxes are the second highest in the United States, second only to New York State. After taxes, he only gets a little over $10, which is only enough for them to afford a small 1300-square-foot house in an inconspicuous corner of the San Fernando Valley.

The 30-year mortgage payment of $3400 per month is deducted from his account more punctually than his 4:45 a.m. alarm clock.

Although Jason's income isn't exactly dire, it's still a bit difficult for him to support his family.

Jason tiptoed out of the house and into the living room and kitchen, passing a row of photos of his wife Megan with some Hollywood actors or posters of movies in which Megan starred.

None of these films are famous; they were made to fill copyright libraries or supply video rental stores, and even in these low-budget, third-rate films, Megan's photos are rarely seen.

Jason went to the refrigerator, opened it, and took out the half-pot of coffee that was left over from yesterday.

As I closed the refrigerator, the wedding photo album taken 10 years ago hanging on it shook.

To avoid waking his wife and children, Jason gulped down the coffee in one go.

After a quick wash, Jason Miller drove his Toyota Camry out the door.

The San Fernando Valley is a bit far from the Belair Hotel, and he needs to get there before 6 o'clock.

With a dozen or so minutes to go before 6 o'clock, Jason Miller parked his car, picked up his iPad and walkie-talkie, and headed toward the side entrance of the Bel Air Hotel.

As the first rays of dawn peeked over the eastern ridgeline, casting a soft orange glow, the white facade of the Bel Air Hotel appeared exceptionally gentle.

Jason walked through the quiet corridor to the waiting area next to the elevator, where he met up with the team that had already arrived.

Everyone was ready and in place. Jason walked to the side, opened his iPad, and began to go over today's schedule one last time.

Depart from the hotel between 8:30 and 9:00 AM.

At 9:15, we passed by Hollywood Boulevard.

At 9:45 a.m., the alternative is a helicopter trip to the top of Griffith Park for a photo opportunity at the Hollywood sign (reservations have been made with the airline, EC130, maximum capacity 8 people, requires confirmation from Mr. Li Wei).

At 10:0 AM, Lisa from Warner Bros. Burbank Studios confirmed she was allowed to visit the set of "The Last of Us" on HBO, where they were filming in Studio 16. VIP access passes have been issued.

At 12:30, the main creative team had lunch at a restaurant.

Free time in the afternoon.

At 7 p.m., NBC Senior Producer Brian Glazer will be hosting a private dinner at his residence in Bel Air. A private chef has been confirmed to provide on-site service. (Note: We need to confirm with Mr. Levi and his companions before midnight whether they have any dietary restrictions.)

Jason checked it three times before finally being satisfied and closed the iPad's case.

This was the easiest time I've ever hosted Li Wei.

Jason has been a Hollywood liaison producer for 10 years, and he has hosted more than a hundred celebrities, athletes, and tycoons.

He has experienced countless bizarre events, any one of which could shake the entertainment industry.

For example, a dog on a reality show needs organic food for a late-night snack, so he's asked to go find a store that sells organic dog food at 3 a.m.

For example, a top-tier celebrity was having a drug craving and asked Jason to go out on the street to pick up drugs for him.

In contrast, the only request Li Wei made throughout was to stay in his own hotel.

They waited until 8:30 in the morning, when the elevator doors opened and Li Wei's people came out one after another.

For the first time today, Kim Ha-eun didn't have her computer with her, but she was still clutching her phone tightly in her hand.

Li Wei and Anya walked behind Kim Hae-eun.

Anya wore a white spaghetti strap dress with a thin beige cardigan over it today.

Li Wei was wearing a simple solid-color short-sleeved shirt and trousers.

The group of one man and two women came out one after the other, and even Jason Miller, who has seen many handsome men and beautiful women in Hollywood, couldn't help but sigh - any one of these three faces would be enough to beat 99% of actors and artists if they appeared in a Hollywood audition room.

"Mr. Jason," Levi nodded to him and said politely, "Good morning."

"Good morning, Mr. Levi, Ms. Anya," Jason greeted them with a smile. "The weather is beautiful today. I've finalized the itinerary and sent it to your phone."

"Thank you," Anya said, taking Li Wei's arm. "Can we add one more person today?"

"Of course," Jason hesitated for a moment, "Do you mean we should include the lady we had dinner with yesterday?"

"Yes," Anya nodded, "because her original plan was also to go to Hollywood today, so she asked if she could come along."

Jason glanced at Levi and nodded without changing his expression: "No problem at all. Warner Bros. issues VIP passes to teams, I'll just talk to them."

To be honest, Anya's request actually relieved Jason.

Anyone who has ever hosted VIP guests knows that sometimes not making any requests is the best policy; if you actually ask for something, it's usually a minor issue that can be resolved.

A few minutes later, Dalia came out of the elevator, and the group filed out.

Two Escalades and a Mercedes-Benz V260 slowly drove out of the Bel Air Hotel's driveway and headed east along Sunset Boulevard.

The morning sun in Los Angeles in March was already getting intense, and the light coming through the Cadillac Escalade's tinted windows was filtered into a gentle amber hue.

Jason sat in the passenger seat, opened his iPad, and explained today's route to Levi.

"The first stop will be Hollywood Boulevard," he said. "My personal suggestion is not to get out of the car, or just take a quick look. Then we have a helicopter option to fly over Griffith Park and take a close-up photo with the Hollywood sign."

"A helicopter?" Anya looked up alertly.

“Yes,” Jason nodded, “the view from the air is the best. Each of those letters is 45 feet tall, and it’s really impressive from the front.” “Hmm, okay,” Anya shook her head before he could finish, “helicopter is out of the question.”

Jason paused for a moment, but immediately nodded.

"What's wrong?" Li Wei looked at Anya. "Why aren't you sitting down?"

"A sports superstar, near Los Angeles, helicopter," Anya said, turning to Levi. "Who comes to mind?"

"Locked up—I mean, surely not," Li Wei said with a laugh, "How many years has it been?"

"You should avoid this, don't you understand?" Anya said irritably. "Listen to me, don't take the helicopter."

""

"Okay." Li Wei didn't really care anyway, so he shrugged and didn't insist.

Dalia, after all, was just hitchhiking. Although she was quick to speak, she wasn't tactless and didn't offer any further comment.

The Escalade convoy drove onto Hollywood Boulevard.

The car was moving very slowly, like several giant beasts slowly weaving through the crowd.

The scene outside the window was the same as Jason had seen thousands of times: the Hollywood Walk of Fame was lined with tourists holding selfie sticks and mobile phones, squatting in twos and threes in front of the star-shaped bronze plaques to take pictures.

A long queue formed outside the TCL Tianchao Theater, where a group of street performers dressed in various superhero cosplay costumes were soliciting business.

A man dressed in a Spider-Man bodysuit is trying to strike a cool pose, but the protruding belly around his waist severely detracts from the visual effect.

Other types of superhero actors are similar; some shameless ones will even approach tourists while they are taking selfies and ask them for $20 per photo.

Some ragged homeless people lay dead on the roadside, their fates unknown. Others stood in corners like zombies, and tourists avoided them upon seeing them.

“This is Hollywood Boulevard,” Levi said. “It looks… down-to-earth, reminding me of the simple, honest life in the South Bronx.”

"That's Hollywood Boulevard like," Jason explained without turning his head. "It's a place for tourists to take photos. The real filmmakers don't come here. They probably only come to this street a handful of times a year."

"It's like tourists think New York is all about Times Square," Anya said, "but people who actually live in New York rarely go to Times Square because parking is so difficult."

"And now that Mr. Levi's reputation is so great," Jason joked, "being here means he probably won't be able to go anywhere for the next day."

The Cadillac sped past, leaving Hollywood Boulevard behind.

The convoy drove onto Highway 134 and headed towards Burbank.

At an intersection, Li Wei also saw a homeless man who seemed to have a mental illness, holding a sign that read "Hungry".

A sign that read "(Hunger)" was being driven away by several police officers.

"I won't leave! I won't leave!" he roared. "You're all spies, you've all come to harm me."

"Let me go!" he cried, struggling as he was pinned to the ground. "I'm going to use surface-to-air and air-to-ground missiles to kill you all!"

The convoy drove past him without stopping, leaving him pinned to the ground by the police, struggling incessantly.

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