As I returned, she was making up my room. I counted the beers in the fridge and went to breakfast, figuring by the time I got back the maid would be there. One day when I didn’t have to work, I set a trap. A good guess was a hotel employee better yet, how about the maid?
I don’t claim to be a detective, but it was pretty obvious that someone with a passkey had been raiding my fridge. As days went by, the beer again disappeared. Some days later I noticed that the fridge was empty of Coors, so I restocked it. I put a few bottles in the fridge and forgot about it. I thanked him but didn’t mention that I didn’t drink much beer. At that time you couldn’t buy Coors east of the Mississippi River. The driver captain on the movie came to me one day on the set and said he had brought some Coors beer from California, and that he would drop off a couple of cases in my room.
While shooting Gator in Georgia, something small happened that changed my life forever.