4:45 a.m.?
Oh yeah.
Today.
I joined a convoy of box trucks making their way to an ice rink in Rockford, Illinois.
A thirty second commercial for a video game about hockey would happen tomorrow.
Today we were preparing for the shoot.
I drove the camera truck, filled waist high with metal roadie cases.
Chip - a big hockey fan who was happy to PA for this shoot - and I unloaded it.
Everything was heavy and pricey.
Many cases were eight feet long, resembling giant robotic french fries.
A thin man in the middle of his life appeared and offered detached direction.
Me and Chip sheathed 100 feet of cables in a mesh, velcro snakeskin.
It took a while.
After that Chip hung around wardrobe, where the girls are.
I stayed by the thin man and unwittingly became his assistant.
My purpose found me.
The thin man had me find outlets to charge batteries, create a shiv to balance his computer evenly on the camera cart, bring him water and coffee, search under the bleachers for extension cords, and separate camera cases into two piles: Red and Horsey-cam.
In the pile of things to be organized laid a heavy lump covered in a furnie pad.
"See what that is," the thin man said.
I unwrapped the weighty papoose to reveal the jack and tire irons for the camera truck.
I decided this would be a good time to try out some fun humor.
"It's a human skull."
The thin man looked up, puzzled.
"What?"
Meanwhile, the Horsey-Cam guys arrived about an hour late.
They were an LA duo, a couple of Van Nuys looking guys.
One had a food-filled track coach look, the other seemed like an updated Regal Beagle regular.
But they were polite and talked to me like I was a fellow citizen.
Horsey-Cam is a larger-than-death erector set of adjustable beams and electronic pulleys that allows a camera to travel like a bullet down a track. A glorified Late Night Thrill-Cam if you will.
It took ten men and as many hours to set up on the ice.
During the set up, Cody the director put on his skates and channeled his inner brat, zig zagging around the grips while they assembled the tall, heavy architecture on the freshly zambonied rink. Behind the plexiglass, Joanie - the nice woman who had hired me - made phone calls and tied up all the loose ends of the production.
I guess at some point yesterday Cody pointed at Joanie and told other people in the room that he did not like her, or something cool and awesome like that. So today Cody took the opportunity to fire pucks directly at the glass in front of Joanie, which added an obnoxious boom to the day. Joanie politely asked Cody not to do that. Technically Cody is an adult.
The thin man went on a break so I wandered around looking for work.
Chip and Ned - a joker of a PA - were by the bleachers assembling the Crowd-In-A-Box.
To avoid having to pay an extra 100 extras, the art department rents this accurately named bizarrity. Inside the box is a crowd of deflated human torsos with heads, crammed and smooshed like rubber seaweed. Four different types of people are represented: a black guy, a blond guy, a woman with olive complexion, and a guy with a baseball goatee.
The black guy has the 100 yard stare of a lobotomized cat.
The blond guy looks as if he seen every war horror in Afghanistan, Vietnam. and both Iraqs.
The woman still hasn't gotten over the complete loss of her uterus and legs.
The goatee guy looks like it's the last day of his life, and he's at an Arby's.
They are morose and weird.
I helped Chip and Ned strategically place them with variety throughout the bleachers. It seems this game is a real melting pot.
From the bleachers I looked around the rink:
Grip and electric, the Phantom camera, Steady-cam, Horsey-cam, sound, the director, assistant director, director of photography, video tech, art department, wardrobe, the production coordinators, and us.
Hair and make-up, the 2nd assistant director, script supervisor, the editors, craft services, the talent and extras would arrive tomorrow.
150 people for 30 seconds.
It was getting late, close to 9pm.
We had to be back at 4:30am.
The hotel was 30 minutes away.
Joanie handed Ned and I a stack of call sheets to deliver to each individual crew member.
Ned and I grouchily spent twenty precious minutes slipping them under their doors.
Around 11pm, I laid down and set my alarm for 3:30am.
I learned a lot today.
I'll learn even more in a few hours.
Verdict: Win
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