Stephen Spielberg and The Spit Wad

High upon the 54th floor of the hotel Stephen Spielberg was in fine form entertaining his friends. He had a drink in his hands as a story flowed from his mouth.
“So that young man, now mind you this was thirty years ago and we were both nothing in this business, but that young man said to me, Stevie… you’re going to make it. I know it. And that young man, well… you might know his as… Chuck.” He finished, in dramatic tones.
“Chuck!” “Oh, ha ha. Chuck.” Exclaimed his friends trying to act surprised and entertained even though they had heard this story a hundred times. His “friends” were actually his staff. Stephen knew he didn’t have any friends, but he liked to think that they enjoyed his story anyway. They didn’t.

Meanwhile 54 floors below in the lobby of the hotel Darin was being taken to task by the hotels owner and operator.
“Mr. Dunn. Do you realize the seriousness of this offense?” He sternly chided.
Of course Darin did but he was trying to suppress his giggles. Launching spit wads into Sarah’s hair was something Darin had been doing since high school but on the other hand, this was Singapore and Darin knew he needed to respect their customs.
“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
“MR DUNN! The time for apologies has long passed!” Came the hotel owners interrupting reply. Darin knew how to get out of this, although he hated to play this card, he knew it was time.
“Sir.” He started in a respectful manner. “A friend of mine named Chuck once said….”
“Chuck?! You know Chuck?” The owner replied somewhat embarrassed.
“Why yes, yes I do. He’s a good friend.” Said Darin with a grin on his face.
“Well then. I suppose your offense can be forgiven…. this time.” Replied the owner.