It was not long after Prince passed away in his elevator.
I was working on this TV show. 12 weeks, twelve to sixteen hours a day, six days a week. It was rough but I was holding up.
I was driving a lot, from LA to somewhere north of San Diego. We were over the hump, habits and routines well in place. On a return to the set from LA, I was driving alone in my minivan, leaving the 405 traffic to finally zip up south on the 5.
And then I arrived and couldn’t remember how. Black hole in my memory. Absolutely no recall of the past hour. None. All I could remember was “emerging” on the ramp leading to the parking lot and wondering who the fuck drove the past hour because I felt like I’d just woken up.
I could remember when I had left LA and the start of the trip. But right before Carlsbad, I couldn’t remember anything at all. I have a pretty good memory of everything. I’ve never experienced before or after such a memory failure/loss.
I remember ordering food, waiting in line while I was freaking out because the last part of the trip wasn’t easy freeway. It was mountain roads and ravines. Pitch black. And I had no clue how I had made it. I felt so vulnerable and scared.
I still don’t know how I made it. I’m happy I’m here and I still remember that day very well.
I didn’t quit but I was happy to be done with the gig. Exhaustion, man.