View from the Top

Every story starts somewhere.
And mine begins in a small town
called Silver Springs, Nevada.

My mother was an ex-show girl.
Emphasis on the "ex."
There's my father.
He came by for the beer.
Whoa. Oh, my God.
Look at this.

Oh, my God!
Happy birthday, Donna
Whoa, whoa
l didn't get to blow out
my candles.

But l do remember my wish.
That l could get as far away
from Silver Springs
as possible.

Well, that didn't happen.
Come on, sweetie.
My mom, always optimistic,
was on her fourth
husband, Pete.

Come on, baby.
Come on.

Ugh. What happened?
Rodney. His son.
No need for DNA testing
on that one.

l still had my mind
on a different life

beyond Silver Springs.
Then l met Tommy,
the high school quarterback.

Boy, was he a great kisser.
Together, l knew
we were going places.

He went as far as
assistant manager at Big Lots

and used his pull to get me a
job in the luggage department.

This is the best bag
money can buy. Bar none.

You've got the nylon twill
with DuPont protective coating.

This is the bag you use
when you fly?