Whose Line Is It Anyway- 'My Back Story'

My Back Story

"Good evening everyone and welcome to 'Whose Line Is It Anyway?'! Tonight's performers are the love star Brad Sherwood, America's sweetheart Kathy Kinney, Canada's favorite TV dad Colin Mochrie, and Mr. Tall and Goofy himself, Ryan Stiles. I'm your host, Drew Carey. C'mon, let's have some fun!"

The "slightly" overweight host, who is wearing a black leisure suit, white button down, and a red and beige tie, runs down the steps of the studio set where the rest of my life would shortly begin.

"Ah, welcome to Whose Line Is It Anyway, the show where everything is made up and the points don't matter."

I would soon come to know and learn this phrase, which would then become my life's motto. My father, Dan Patterson, is the creator and producer of this show, and considers it to be his baby, besides me of course. Although, people seem very confused when I tell them that he's my dad. You see, he grew up in the bleak and dreary streets of England, where I am an American with my American accent. Here's the story: when I was around three years old, my parents put me up for adoption for an unknown reason. I stayed in a low-income orphanage in Chicago until about the age of five. Coincidentally, a British TV producer was taking a "vacation" during the cold and winter season. I stood in front of the orphanage, dressed in a light jacket with worn out mittens, trying to catch snowflakes in my hands. As I was writing my name out in the snow, a man with a gray hat, thick, black glasses, and a heavy, dark blue winter coat approached me.

"Excuse me, young lady, but aren't your hands a little chilly?"

Fascinating, he had an accent I have never heard before. I had always been told not to talk to strangers, but this man didn't seem strange at all. I couldn't seem to talk, so I just nodded my head as I put my hands in my pockets.

"My dear, what is this place?"

"It's an orphanage, sir."

He laughed warmly and bent down to my height.

"There's no need to call me 'sir.' But, what a polite child you are. Why don't we head inside and have a look, shall we?"

I liked the idea of this, so I took his hand and lead him inside. When we found the coat rack, he placed his coat on a hook and bent down towards me. Now I could see his facial features a little bit better. He didn't look too old, maybe mid thirties. He had brown, spiky hair, stubble on his thin face, and thick, black glasses. He put his gray hat on my head and patted my shoulder.

"What is your name, my dear?"

A bit startled by his question, I knew I had to rebuttal.

"Only if you tell me your name, first."

He chuckled in agreement at my childish remark.

"Fair enough! My name is Dan Patterson, and I'm from England."

I was fairly amazed by this. I had never heard of this place before, it sounded so exotic.

"You mean from across the ocean?"

"Yes, that's exactly it!"

"Wow, that's so cool! And my name is Hayley. I don't have a last name like you do."

He stood up and reached for my hand.

"Well, why don't we change that? Where is the head mistress?"

The rest is history. That same day he took me home, not in Chicago. We traveled all the way to the west coast to my new home, Los Angeles, California. For many years he has raised me better than most parents would raise their children. I made my own mistakes and I went out into the world with an open mind. He taught me to be generous and how to not mind the people who think that violence is an answer. However, he has never had a wife, which means that I never grew up with a mother. Although I never really had a woman figure to look up to, I could figure out things pretty fast. Now, let's talk about the present and what's ahead. I have just finished high school and I am looking for a job. I am looking on the internet to find a summer job, just to start out with, when I hear a knock on my door.

"Hey pumpkin. May I come in?"

"Yeah!"

He opens the door and sits on my bed next to me.

"Now, I know that you've been looking for a job and I'm here to give you an offer."

I put my computer down, as this peaks my interest greatly.

"Really? What is it?"

"Do you remember my friend, Mark Leveson?"

"I do, but I haven't seen him in such a long time."

"Well, we just got approved to produce a show on the ABC network. I was thinking that you want to work with us?"

"Really? What it is called?"

"The series is called 'Whose Line Is It Anyway?' and it's an improv show. There used to be a version in England, but it doesn't air anymore. We thought that it would be a good idea to bring this show to the American audience."

"That sounds like a great idea! What is my job?"

"You have one of the most important jobs, along with me, Mark, and two others from the improv troupe. You are going to be an executive produce and coordinator. Your job is to pick out what skits the troupe will do for that show and to straighten out the dressing rooms before the shows. In exchange for all of your hard work, you will have a front row seat for all of the shows. What do you think? I'll be the coordinator for the first couple of shows, just to show you the ropes, and then it'll be your job."

"I think that sounds like fun! It's a wonderful idea! Dad, I would love to accept your job offer."

We have our professional moment, just for a few seconds, then we hug it out.