From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Clearly, Frank Jr. was in trouble.

At midnight, the hotel manager grabbed him by the collar of his pajamas and unceremoniously threw the disheveled Frank Jr. out of the hotel.

In fact, this kind-hearted man had already given him a break; two checks that Frank Jr. had previously written had bounced, causing the hotel manager himself to get into trouble. Even though Frank Jr. repeatedly explained that it was a bank error, this poor, kind-hearted man didn't want to sink any further into the mire.

So, Frank Jr. was thrown out of the hotel.

In the end, Frank Jr. had to spend the night in a brightly lit motel.

In desperation, Frank Jr. racked his brains and came up with an idea—

Checks.

Frank Jr. began to tamper with his checkbook, creating fake checks and fake identities, and brazenly went to the bank to cash them.

However, he ran into obstacles.

Lies? No problem, he could come up with them easily, telling all sorts of whoppers.

If that didn't work, it didn't matter. Frank Jr. pulled out the trick his father had used when renting the black suit: the gold necklace.

Unfortunately.

Sixteen-year-old Frank Jr. was still too green and naive, clumsy and awkward. His little tricks kept running into the brick wall of the bank's regulations:

Simple lies didn't work.

After being rejected by the bank once again, Frank Jr. left dejectedly, his brow furrowed and his steps heavy, as if his thoughts were tripping him up.

Just then.

Frank Jr. stopped. Directly in front of him, he saw a taxi pull up, and a tall man in a pilot's uniform emerged first, followed by flight attendants of various shapes and sizes—

One. Two. Three.

The small taxi was like a magician's hat, continuously producing all sorts of beautiful women, their voices filled with laughter and the atmosphere harmonious.

The pilot, like a star surrounded by the moon, entered the luxurious hotel in front of him. The hotel lobby manager came out to greet him personally, and even a little kid ran out asking the pilot for his autograph. The afternoon sun of New York made the whole space resplendent, and the world instantly brightened.

Frank Jr., who followed the pilot and flight attendants into the hotel, stood there stunned, watching the scene before him.

"Dear Dad,

I've decided to become a pilot. I've applied to all the airlines, and my schedule is filling up with promising interview invitations.

How's Mom? Have you called her lately?

Love, your son, Frank."

Despite running away from home, Frank Jr. regularly sent telegrams to Frank Sr. to make sure his father knew he was okay. The telegram messages made Frank Sr. very happy, and he regained a long-lost smile on his face.

So, was Frank Jr. really going to become a pilot?

No.

Of course not.

Does anyone remember the synopsis in the fake TV show at the beginning?

Frank Jr. successfully impersonated a pilot and flew more than two million miles for free.

In the opening of the movie, Steven Spielberg had already spoiled everything; however, it doesn't matter if you don't remember, because Steven is using the camera lens to lead the audience into this exciting adventure.

After the setbacks at the bank, Frank Jr. realized that his little tricks and lies might not work in society. He needed to be fully prepared.

So.

Frank Jr. used his identity: a middle school student.

He disguised himself as a middle school newspaper reporter and openly made an appointment with the New York branch of Pan American Airways, saying that he was preparing to write a school newspaper article to tell students how to become a pilot.

Age. Identity.

These shortcomings when cashing checks at the bank now became the perfect disguise, easily disarming the Pan American Airways office.

No one would reject the admiring eyes of a middle school student eager to learn.

"Every pilot must carry two things with them at all times."

"One is the airline's staff badge, and the other is the Federal Aviation Administration license, like this one."

The gentleman took out a license from his wallet and showed it to Frank Jr.

Frank Jr. took the license with a face full of surprise, excitedly raising his face, "Sir, can I make a copy to put in my article?"

The gentleman was very generous, "Oh, Frank, you can just take it. It's only good for another three years anyway."

Frank Jr. quickly stuffed the license into his pocket, "Thank you. What about your identity badge? Do you have an extra one that I can borrow?"

The gentleman laughed cheerfully, "I can't help you with that. These have to be specially ordered from Polaroid. The only way to get one is to become a real Pan American pilot."

But, was that really the case?

Frank Jr. used a public phone on the street to call Pan American Airways headquarters, saying that his uniform had been lost by the hotel laundry department in New York.

The Pan American Airways purchasing department was not surprised at all. This kind of thing happened every now and then, so they gave Frank Jr. an address to go to have a uniform made.

Moreover, what was even more perfect was that this uniform supplier did not accept checks or cash. They only needed the employee's identification number, and then they would bill Pan American Airways, which would deduct it from the employee's salary.

For Frank Jr., who was now penniless, unable to cash checks, but possessed a real Pan American Airways employee license, it was perfect.

"Dear Dad,

You always told me that an honest man has nothing to fear, so I'm trying not to be afraid. I'm sorry I ran away from home, but don't worry, I'm going to get everything back now, Dad.

I promise. Everything will come back."

Magnificent, handsome—

Wearing a pilot's uniform, Frank Jr. easily became the focus of attention. His slender and tall figure and handsome face, combined with the uniform, made him a beautiful sight on the streets of New York.

Men envied him, women admired him, and even little girls of six or seven years old looked at him with adoration.

As he walked along, the crowd parted like the Red Sea, and even though the road was crowded, it did not affect or interfere with Frank Jr.'s pace in the slightest.

Unimpeded, walking with the wind, Frank Jr. came to the bank again.

"…Seventy, eighty, ninety. One hundred dollars."

This time, without any effort, Frank Jr. cashed the check and easily got one hundred dollars in cash.

Not only that, but even the bank branch manager personally came forward to greet him, with no suspicion of Frank Jr.'s identity, but only sincerely thanking the pilot for coming to his branch and looking forward to seeing him again.

After that.

When Frank Jr. came to the five-star hotel again, the treatment was completely different; but Frank Jr. was still unsure, his tone slightly hesitant.

"Can I use a personal check to pay for the room?"

The lobby manager said, "Of course. For airline employees, we cash a maximum of one hundred dollars in personal checks; the limit for payroll checks is three hundred dollars."

Frank Jr.'s eyes lit up.