Stuck Inside of Ft. Floyd With The Vampire Hours Again
Today was our big return to overnights.
Downtown Ft. Floyd.
Seven actors.
The four teenagers: Britt, Riley, Logan and Haddock.
The two cops: The older actor and the actor I once poked in the head with an umbrella.
And a waitress: A down to earth girl named Mallory.
I spent most of the night walking the actors to and from the set.
On our walk across the river, Britt asked me questions about bugs.
I made a Harvey Klinger reference.
She was very nice about not knowing what I was talking about.
Anyone else would have thought I was an all time, all-American, Grade A creep. On top of that, they'd say I was a jerk, a goof, and a double dingbat.
I'd be known as "Hare-brained Tony Mendoza".
Know When To Hold 'Em
We all worked well together tonight.
Things have gotten better with the crew.
Attitudes were left back at the resort.
The slate girl and I stood in for a shot inside a coffee shop.
"What would we be talking about?" I asked.
"Russian authors," she volleyed back.
I decided against making another 70's TV reference.
Instead I threw some words around the names "Dostoyevsky" and "Tolstoy".
Though a Starsky & Hutch reference could have been funnyish.
But she wouldn't have known what those are.
T-H-U-R-S-D-A-Y..Night!
The townies were out in full force.
While setting up tables and tents for lunch, a sun-leathered woman hung around the craft services table. It seemed her diet consisted of keg beer, cigarettes and dreamcatchers.
"What's your name?" flirted Doug.
"Trouble," she answered.
Then she showed him a tattoo on the back of her neck.
It read TROUBLE.
She cackled.
Doug kept his distance.
Meanwhile I hauled wooden tables and cumbersome tents around the parking lot.
"Smile!" she ordered.
Lock ups were interesting.
The drunks wandered into the shots from every direction.
Like Night of The Living Dead.
Like Berserk.
Some actually hiccuped like in the cartoons.
But I've gotten much better at telling people that they are not allowed to walk on a public sidewalk.
It felt like tonight we'd reached the peak of the filming process.
Sweet Home Ft. Floyd
Back at the hotel, a Home Depot regional managers' conference had taken over the resort.
They had decided it would be fun and learningful to have a Blues Brothers theme.
All the men wore suits and sunglasses.
All the women dressed as nuns.
It was stupid.
But I was a team player now.
So I put on a Nazi helmet and drove the RV through the lobby.
But nobody got the reference.
Verdict: Win
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