Roosevelt Hotel7000 Hollywood Blvd 90028
March 31, 2010
“What floor?” A blonde suited gentleman inquired, while his friend, perhaps business partner, also turned to me for an answer.
“Um… any floor is fine.” Outwardly, I smiled, but inwardly I cringed. I hadn’t considered I might be interrogated by the two men when I followed them into the elevator. I attempted to ride solo 15 minutes prior, but in doing so I learned the elevator goes nowhere unless you have key card for a hotel room. And I certainly didn’t - I’m not the type of person who can afford to stay at such high-end establishments.
“Any floor?” The two men exchanged questioning glares; they didn’t even attempt to disguise their skepticism. While I feared they would turn me in and have me bounced right out of the hotel, they feared I was yet another prostitute trying to acquire their business for the night.
I had no choice but to fess up, “I’m looking for a friend of mine. He’s filming somewhere here in the hotel, but I’m not exactly sure where. I tried calling and texting, but I think he silenced his phone.”
“Yep.” I replied. The two assessed the truthfulness of my story and telepathically agreed I was legit.
“Well then, we’ll totally help you find your friend.” The blonde insisted.
“Really?” I wasn’t looking to form a search party, but since they extended the offer, and came with room cards, I thought, why not. “Thanks.”
“By the way, I’m Jack.” The blonde extended his hand for a proper introduction.
His friend followed suit. “And I’m Chris.”
“Hi, I’m Katrina. Nice to meet you.”
“So, what floor would you like to try?” Chris asked.
“How about 7?” After all, I reasoned, 7 is a good, Biblical number.
“7 it is.” Chris pushed the button to the 7th floor and up and away we went on our mission to find my second hottest guy friend, Mike Duff.
While looking around floor 7, Jack and Chris told me about these two Russian gals they had met a few days prior. Jack and Chris agreed to take the women out to dinner, only to discover after the meal their occupations. They were prostitutes and were banking on Jack and Chris’s business for the night. When Jack and Chris refused their services, the disgruntled women made a scene in front of the crowds on the boulevard. They shook their clutch purses and shouted after them as the men walked away, “You gay! You gay!”
I assured them I wasn’t a prostitute, but admitted to playing one in a movie once for one of my brother’s film projects at the University of Michigan. It wasn’t anything scandalous, but it will probably come back to haunt me someday – right when I decide to run for some sort of political office. Jack assured me as long as there wasn’t any nudity involved I should be okay – there definitely wasn’t.