...and the Secret of the Two Empty Bottles

I'm just a little devastated at the moment.

Last night started so well, too.

I got together with some writer friends whom I adore. Great funny people, most of whom are in a similar situation as myself -- a little excited and a little nervous about staffing, but still a little bit hopeful based on some positive reception to their work. Bright Young Things, that's us. So we were gathered, talking about the ins and outs of being a BYT, and it slowly dawned on me that all my paranoid, neurotic thoughts were sadly, neither paranoid or neurotic.

WRITER #1: okay, weren't you guys surprised there was a secret handshake?
WRITER #2: I know! And a secret cave.
WRITER #1: I know!
WRITER #2: A secret cave. I had no idea. No idea.
WRITER #3: And when that stone wall in the cave moved and you saw --
WRITER #4: the GIANT screen and all the computers!! I know!!
WRITER #3: Oh my god.
WRITER #2: Seriously. Oh my god.
WRITER #2: Blown away. Who knew?
WRITER #1: Did you guys have to practice the handshake or did you get it right away?
WRITER #2: I got it right away.
WRITER #3: Yeah.
WRITER #4: Me too.
WRITER #1: Well I feel like an idiot. D, what about you?

Pause.

ME: There's a handshake?

Laughter.

ME: No, seriously. There's a handshake?

Everyone starts to realize.

WRITER #1: Yeah. You know.
WRITER #4: The handshake.
WRITER #2: You met Mr. X, right?
ME: Yeah, but --
WRITER #2: The handshake.
ME: He never said anything about a handshake.

Silence.

WRITER #3: It's no big deal.
WRITER #1: Totally.
ME: You said there was a cave. A secret cave, with the wall of computers.
WRITER #2: I don't think it's that important.
ME: There's a bank of computers mounted into the walls of an underground cave that you need a secret handshake to get into but you don't think it's important.
WRITER #3: It's really more of a lair than a cave. I mean, it's homey. There's couches and movie screens and snacks and Fiji water --

Everyone glares at Writer #3.

WRITER #3: But I didn't see much else there. It's nothing.
WRITER #1: It's not that cool. You're not missing anything.
WRITER #2: I don't get it. You met Mr. X.
WRITER #4: Only five people got taught the handshake.
WRITER #3: I heard that too.
WRITER #2: Right. Five. Us. 1,2,3,4, and Diana.
WRITER #3: Well, 1,2,3,4....
WRITER #1: Maybe he’s gonna tell you and he just hasn't yet.
WRITER #4: Yeah.
WRITER #3: No. #6 met with Mr. X two weeks ago.
WRITER #2: Oh man. And he's always carrying that Fiji water bottle.
WRITER #4: He could've gotten it at the store.
WRITER #3: Or the lair.
ME: Do you have more wine around here?
WRITER #2: But why wouldn't Mr. X tell you?
WRITER #3: Well, he only teaches you the secret handshake if you’re good. I mean, that's what Mr. X said. When he taught me the handshake and took me to the underground lair and we watched the advance copy of X-Men 3 on the giant screen.
ME: I'm gonna go check in the kitchen.

So I went to the kitchen, found the wine, and didn't leave any for anybody else. ( I'm sure they have plenty in their well-stocked underground lair anyway.) At which point, I became That Drunk Girl and left everyone shaking their heads, all "And she wonders why she didn't get taught the handshake? Look at her." Writer #3 nodded, then pointed out that I also had lousy act breaks.

And now I feel ill from wine and regret.