As Los Angeles prepares for this weekend's Carmageddon, it should be known that everyday is Carmageddon in Hollywood. Let me explain...

One of the most prestigious perks one can have in show business is your very own parking space on a major studio lot with your name on it. When I got my first parking space on the Warner Bros. lot, I was so excited I took a picture of it to prove that I had finally arrived in the biz. (It was in the back of the lot next to Robert Redford and Sydney Pollack.)

Conversely, the most egregious violation you can perpetrate on someone is to park in his or her space. In fact, there was a apocryphal tale on the Warner lot that Clint Eastwood would become so incensed if someone parked in his spaces that he would smash the windows of the offender's car with a baseball bat. Ridiculous, right? Well....

As I took over as Executive Producer of one of Warner's major money making sitcoms, my office was transferred from our sleepy backlot building to a very prominent six-room office in a prime location next to the sound stages. (The office was Humphrey Bogart's former dressing room suite.) My parking spot changed too. I was given a primo spot within a few steps of my office... right next to Clint Eastwood.

Now I have nothing against Clint Eastwood. He was a nice guy. While we didn't become buddies, we did nod hello when we saw each other. However I made sure every morning that my car was within the boundaries of my own space and not infringing on his. (Eastwood actually had a group of about seven or eight spaces for him and his production company Malpaso, which was housed next to my new suite of offices.)

One day I tooled onto the lot around 9 AM, waved hello to the guard and weaved through the stages to get to my parking spot. As I turned the corner where my spot was located I noticed a group of about twenty people gathered around a car in front of Eastwood's offices. Apparently someone had parked in one of the Malpaso spaces. I honked to clear George Clooney and the rest of the ER cast who were standing in my space watching the action and parked verrrrrry carefully.

In front of me were two young men reaching through the newly smashed window of a car to put it in drive and push it into the middle of the street. Now any visitor to a studio must pass through security. They have to have an appointment. What happens is the guard at the front gate checks to see if they're on the approved list and gives them a parking pass that must be affixed to the front window at all times.

As the two guys pushed the offending car into the street, I went over and looked at the parking pass in the window. The car belonged to someone who was on the lot to have a meeting... at Malpaso. Apparently the offender didn't know that there were specific spaces for Malpaso visitors and this space was not one of them. Feeling relieved that it wasn't my car, I headed to my office. As I passed in front of Malpaso, there was the big man himself staring out the window, arms crossed and silently watching the action. I caught his eye and shook my head ever so slightly as if this was nuts. Clint shrugged at me and turned his attention back to the car, owned by someone who was currently having a meeting at Eastwood's own complex, which was now sitting in the middle of the street, blocking traffic.

I guess I was privileged to see a Hollywood legend live up to all the hype. Clint did not disappoint. However I made extra care never to cross over the white line into his parking space. And just to be extra careful, I drove a smaller car to work from then on. Cars and parking spaces are very serious business out here.

Happy Carmageddon!