The Role That Never Was

“Living in the limelight, the universal dream” (Rush)

I had a couple of hours to kill in Miami between a meeting and dinner, so I wandered out to the Delano Hotel’s tiki bar with my laptop and an iced tea. It started pouring — standard June in South Beach.

There was only one other guy at the bar. He lifted his glass of iced tea, grinned, and said, “The drink of champions!”

He looked familiar — shorts, t-shirt, baseball cap. Meanwhile, I was in a French-cuff white shirt trying to look like I had just stepped out of a boardroom. We started talking: Wall Street, investments, sports, movies, nicknames. His was Spike. Mine, apparently, was Woody.

It was Spike Lee.

We hit it off. He was in town for the Knicks/Heat playoff game, but for an hour or two we covered everything from Michael Jordan to screenwriting. At one point, he said he thought I could fit into one of his films. I handed him my number and email on a cocktail napkin — already negotiating for something more than a “small role.” He laughed: “Woody, I can see it.”

Later that night, I told my colleagues in the Delano lobby about my newfound Hollywood greatness. They were skeptical — until Spike emerged from the elevators in full Knicks jersey and shades, turned toward me, and shouted, “Woody! You’re the man!” Cue high fives all around.

For a moment, I was sure my career as a character actor was about to launch — maybe even stepping into Philip Seymour Hoffman’s role in 25th Hour.

Alas, the call never came.

I like to think Spike just lost my number at the game.

Then again, maybe he didn’t.