Actor in Hollywood Chapter 968 966: A Magical Experience

belamy20

Ah!

At this mont, on the surface, Karl was flipping through a newspaper, holding it high with both hands, using it to cover his face, pretending to seriously read the latest issue of The Wall Street Journal, much like a high-flying financial executive traveling between Europe and Arica.

Ah, ah, ah, ah!

However, in his mind, a tiny version of Karl was screaming in panic. A bunch of miniature Karls were running around frantically like headless chickens, their world turning upside down as they clutched their faces, feeling both excited and terrified by their own cries.

What could he do? What else could he do but scream?

Just then, the man on his left turned his head, his profile morphing into a full view, and in an instant, the screaming inside Karl's mind was cut off.

The man said, "Your newspaper is upside down, Mr. Jas Bond."

Karl: "Ah!"

A scream, mixed with excitent and surprise, burst from his throat but was quickly stifled. Karl opened his mouth to scream silently.

His eyes widened, his heart raced, his palms were sweaty, and his knees trembled.

But none of that mattered, because Karl finally saw the face before him clearly—

Anson. The one and only Anson.

Honestly, Karl found it hard to imagine that anyone in this world could look like Anson.

There was no doubt—it was him.

Karl froze. His words, movents, brain, and heart—all froze, as if he were a glitchy character in a video ga, his entire being turning into a mosaic.

The man's lips curled into a slight smile. "You should try a martini."

Karl blinked, "Shaken, not stirred."

The movie line ca out of his mouth instinctively.

The atmosphere eased imdiately.

After saying it, Karl finally ca to his senses a little. He smiled awkwardly at Anson and then quickly looked forward, staring stiffly ahead.

Slowly, gradually, feeling returned to his fingertips with a slight tingle, his brain began to turn again, albeit sluggishly.

So, what was going on?

Why was Anson in Amsterdam? While all of Europe and the U.S. were curious about Anson's whereabouts, how did he suddenly appear here without a word?

Was Anson headed to New York to film Spider-Man 2?

Thoughts sward in his head.

Later, Karl wrote in his blog:

"At the ti, I was so excited that I wasn't thinking clearly. I couldn't stop the flood of questions that poured out of , no matter how hard I tried.

If I could, I would have loved to conduct an interview on the spot—

This was a one-on-one interview opportunity! For the next ten hours, we were going to be trapped in that airplane cabin with no way to escape, and I could've asked him all the burning questions on my mind. I could've seized my mont.

But I knew I couldn't.

This wasn't work ti; it was his personal ti and space. I know how much I hate discussing work during my downti, and how much I crave to be left alone in my personal ti. I figured Anson must feel the sa way.

So, after hesitating again and again, I suppressed my impulse and only tentatively asked if I could take a picture with him.

Anson politely declined, but he was still kind and friendly enough to sign the Elephant movie poster and my personal movie journal."

Karl included pictures in the blog post.

More than any words, those pictures spoke volus.

Though there was no photo with Anson, the signed poster proved Karl's extraordinary encounter was real—that man was indeed Anson.

But the story didn't end there.

"…If it had ended there, I might've doubted myself, because from start to finish, that man never confird he was Anson Wood. Maybe he was just a regular guy who often got mistaken for Anson. He might've been too tired to correct and simply signed Anson's na to end the conversation. I accept all skepticism.

So, at best, I could say, 'I might have run into Anson.'

But that's not the whole story. The truly exciting part cos next."

As a young person of the digital age, Karl knew how to turn his passions into a career through blogging, and he also understood the nature of online skepticism. He didn't even wait for readers to nitpick—he presented a twist himself, leading the story in a new direction.

When readers ca across his post, they were hooked.

"…Honestly, I'm not a fan of flying. It's not quite a phobia, but every ti the plane takes off, it's torture. I have to close my eyes, pray, and grip the armrests with all my strength to get through that dreadful ti.

I thought flying in business class would be better, but it wasn't.

Next to , Anson seed to notice my fear—obviously, my death grip on the armrests gave away. He kindly asked if I was okay.

My first reaction was, 'For the love of God, are you kidding ? Can't you see that I'm barely holding myself together to avoid making a ss right here? And now you're striking up a conversation? Why can't you just leave alone? I don't care who you are! Or am I just terrified of making a fool of myself in front of the real Anson, so I'm doing everything I can to avoid a ltdown?'

But my fierce glare didn't scare Anson off.

He asked again, 'Did you enjoy Karlovy Vary?'

I must have dropped the official program for the Karlovy Vary Film Festival when I was rummaging through my bag for the Elephant poster.

Of course, I only figured this out later. At the ti, I was too focused on controlling my bladder and maintaining whatever dignity I had left. I didn't have the ntal energy to think about it. Just processing Anson's words was draining my last bit of strength.

As I was trying to figure out how to respond, Anson continued, 'I really liked the Peter Greenaway retrospective.'

Wait, what? My DNA responded!

'Shut up! You like Peter Greenaway too?'

'To be precise, it was my first ti discovering his visual and cinematic experints. It's a sha I only just found him.'

'Shut up! Sa here!'

'At tis, Greenaway's staging feels a bit too theatrical, but no one can deny the charm of his experints. The end result is always sothing srizing, almost perfect.'

'Shut up! I think so too!'

I realized I kept telling Anson to shut up, but I couldn't help myself. I was too shocked and excited. I wasn't sure whether I was more astonished by my own stupidity for not controlling my mouth, or by the unexpected turn this conversation had taken."