I always thought getting my first passport would be simple and uneventful. Haha, I was wrong.
It all started with the kind of call every actor dreams of: I’d booked my biggest commercial yet—a global campaign that would be filming in Vancouver, Canada. This was it, the opportunity I had visualized long before moving to LA. Then came the reality check—the shoot was in one week, and I didn’t have a passport. But did I tell my agent? Of course not.
The Risk
The trouble began at the casting stage. When I saw that a passport was required, I hesitated. Even if I did book the job, I wouldn’t have a passport. But turning down an audition this big, with one of LA’s top agents and top casting directors? Nah, that wasn’t happening, so I went.
I walked into that audition room, all nerves and no plan, gave it everything I had, and somehow, I got the callback.
“Can you get a passport in time if you book this?” the casting director asked.
“Yes, absolutely,” I said with the kind of confidence only desperation can muster. In truth, I wasn’t sure, but fuck it, you know?
The Night Before
The night before the audition, I performed at The Comedy Store in LA—a surreal highlight of my comedy career. Sharing the stage with my friends Steve (who I went to Mexico with) and Jumarcus made it unforgettable. After the show, Jumarcus (who was also up for the same commercial) joked about how crazy it would be if we overslept.
Turns out, that wasn’t just a joke.
The Morning Disaster
The next morning, I woke up to three missed calls from Jumarcus.
“Boy, where are you at?” he barked in his thick Houston accent.
I glanced at the clock: 10:30 a.m. My audition was at 9:30.
I shot out of bed like I’d been electrocuted. There was no time for anything—not even brushing my teeth. I threw on clothes, called an Uber, and sped to the audition.
By the time I walked in at 10:55 a.m., I was a mess—sweating, frazzled, and fully convinced I had already lost. But instead of folding, I leaned into the chaos. I improvised, I took risks, and I had fun.
“Good luck,” the casting director said as I left.
Ready to hop back into bed, I walked to the bus stop and waited for about 15 minutes for my orange chariot to arrive. Then, all of a sudden, my phone buzzed.
“You’re confirmed! You booked the commercial!” my agent emailed.
I felt like I’d just won the lottery—until I read the next line:
“You’ll need a passport by next Wednesday.”
The Clock Starts
Panic set in. I had no passport and less than a week to make it happen. But I couldn’t tell my agent the truth. I called my Auntie Kim to see if she could help me with the process, and she did—without hesitation.
First thing Monday morning, I was at the passport office, big smile and application in hand. They promised it would be ready by Wednesday. The timing was tight but doable—or so I thought.
The Setback
Wednesday came, and I rushed to the passport office. But when I arrived, they told me it wouldn’t be ready until Thursday. My stomach sank. What was I supposed to tell my agent? I had promised Wednesday.
I didn’t know what to do, so I sat on a nearby bench outside the office. In a desperate move, I called my buddy Ryan —the one I went to Mexico with—and asked to borrow his passport to see if I could use it just to show my agent. He agreed, so I rushed over. As soon as I arrived, he handed me the passport, and I snapped a picture and sent it, praying it would buy me time.
Minutes later, my agent emailed: “We need the bio page with your photo.”
Cornered by my own lie, I froze. Damn, what do I do now?
I just… avoided responding altogether.
They messaged me all day and all night, but I stayed silent. Night fell, and I lay wide-eyed in bed until I eventually drifted off to sleep.
Rock Bottom
Thursday morning, after my morning coffee, I rushed back to the passport office, but I was too early. I found out you could only pick up your passport during certain hours (12–2 p.m.). It was only 11 a.m., and my agent’s emails and voicemails were growing angrier.
Now pacing like a madman outside, the coffee and anxiety really hit me. At 11:15 a.m., I ducked into a nearby hotel lobby to use the restroom.
I had all the worst thoughts at that point, and then I got the email:
“You’ve been dropped from the commercial. Please give us a call.”
The words hit me like a freight train. I knew I had lost everything—the job, the money, and, to them, my credibility as a professional.
Defeated but determined, I returned to the passport office, and to my surprise, the line was moving quickly. At noon, I finally received my passport. It was supposed to feel like a victory, but it just felt like too little, too late.
Still, I emailed my agent with the passport details, apologizing for everything. I didn’t expect a response, let alone forgiveness.
As I sat on the bus, replaying every mistake in my head, my phone buzzed.
“The production team re-booked you.”
I stared at the screen in disbelief, thinking, Is this a dream?
Seconds later, my agent called.
“Production is giving you another chance. Stand by your email, and we’ll be sending your itinerary for Canada soon,” they said.
Oh my God.
Not only did I have my passport, but I was also going out of the country again.
The Reflection
As I sat on the bus holding that passport in my hands, I felt the weight of what it represented. Though the journey wasn’t as pretty as I imagined it would be, I realized this was just the beginning. This wasn’t just a commercial; this was proof that chasing my dream—no matter the risk—was always worth it.
The Canada Vlog: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=LbmWVeTHbfQ
The Commercial - Ghost Recon Breakpoint ft Lil Wayne: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=absdqVyb_44&pp=ygVIdG9tIGNsYW5jeSdzIGdob3N0IHJlY29uwq4gYnJlYWtwb2ludCBsaXZlIGFjdGlvbiB1Ymlzb2Z0IE5vcnRoIEFtZXJpY2Eg
Comments