Jerzy drove the passenger van with the people.
I drove the dream van with the equipment.We were going to the NBC Tower.
"Do you know how to get to the dock?" I asked Jerzy.
Jerzy doesn't live in Chicago.
He lives ten miles from Wisconsin.
The dock for the NBC Tower is not easy to locate.
It's on Lower North Water Street.
Most locals don't know this street.
If you type "NBC Tower" into a GPS it will not take you to this street.
"Yeah, I know where it is," he said.
So Jerzy led the caravan.
And immediately missed the first turn that will take you to the dock.
So now he was driving the producer, the director, and the crew into the complicated mess of Lower Columbus and Lower Wacker on the other side of the river.
They were lost.
My phone rang.
"We are on....South Water Street and...."
I had to navigate them out of there with my batlike mind radar.
They finally arrived and poured out of the van in a pissy state.
Jerzy was pissed off, too.
He was mad at them for being pissed off at him.
Words like "fuck" and "limey" travelled past his pissy lips.
"Maybe we all just need some breakfast" I speculated.
"No, I already ate."
Rooftop Snickers
Veruca sent Jerzy on some errands.
Meanwhile the rest of us went on the roof of the NBC Tower.
It was a lovely, breezy day providing bright views of the Tribune Tower and The Wrigley Building.
In all my years inside of these silly buildings, I had never been on top of one until today.
I should have been more marveled.
But I'm afraid of heights.
The weatherman arrived.
We were going to film him doing real people activities.
Like hanging out on the roof of a skyscraper.
"This is my first time up here."
Between takes a few folks sat on the ledge of the forty story structure.
People began making jokes about falling off and plummeting to their death.
"Just make sure you get good footage on the way down."
They teetered with laughter on the ledge.
I had to walk away.
"Hey Tony, can you help with this bounce?"
Uh, sure.
The breeze was making it difficult for one of the C-stands to hold a big reflective 4'x4' square of styrofoam.
So I was called in to hold it by the ledge.
I braced myself against the cement and closed my eyes.
The weatherman continued with the humor jokes.
"Don't go parasailing," he chuckled.
I wanted to shit all of my pants.
But I was being professional.
A professional pants-shitter.
They got their shot.
Time to go.
TCB: Weatherman-Style
The weatherman held court while we waited for the freight elevator down.
It was like hanging out with Elvis.
He controlled the topics and everyone reacted on cue.
"We" talked about home entertainment systems, the record industry, 3D movies.
He impressed me when he name dropped ? and The Mysterians.
I wanted to explore that topic some more but within three seconds it had already changed.
Though I did get in a reference to View-Masters, which prompted him to talk about his hometown in Oregon where View-Masters were manufactured.
I ate a pretend peanut butter and banana sandwich and shut up.
Jerzy Shore Can't See Foam
During lunch Jerzy and I were supposed to purchase foam core.
But we could not leave the dream van unattended.
We had 30 minutes.
I came up with a plan:
• Jerzy parks his van by the office supply store.
• Jerzy purchases foam core from the office supply store.
• I pick up Jerzy with the foam core.
• One of us stays with the dream van while the other orders lunch.
It was a good plan.
I came up with it because I was hungry.
I tried to communicate the plan to Jerzy.
He decided that getting foam core was going to be very difficult.
"What kind of foam core?"
Regular foam core.
"What size?"
3'x4'.
"If I'm parking the van, how are we going to transport it?"
I'll pick you up.
"Not with this wind. This isn't going to work."
He was fixating on ridiculous hypothetical problems and answering questions with questions about other unrelated problematic topics.
It seemed Jerzy was still pissed off at Veruca.
I guess he thought she should have enjoyed his earlier choice to get everyone lost and start the day behind schedule.
I told him we just needed to get the foam core.
Jerzy went in protest.
Fifteen minutes passed.
While impatiently waiting, I got a call from him.
He was inside the store.
It was a bad connection.
"....they don't....foam core...no....not....can't....won't....not....no....never...."
"Jerzy, you're breaking up."
"...THEY DON'T...FOAM CORE...NO...NOT...CAN'T...WON'T...NOT...NO...NEVER..."
I hung up.
I parked by a Subway.
Jerzy found me.
He had the foam core.
"Oh good, you got the foam core."
Jerzy went on to talk about how it could have been done better and how Veruca and all these New York people and Columbia kids don't know how to do things and he went on and on.
We had five minutes left for lunch.
"I need to eat!" I interrupted.
"Oh, I already ate," Jerzy said.
It May Not Be News, But It Is Work
We filmed one of the news anchors at The Cultural Center.
She's been on Chicago TV's since my sophomore year in high school.
Right around the time when the nightly news got prettier and smilier.
We made eye contact under the Tiffany glass dome.
She waved and smiled.
That smile was work.
She was working.
"I am a journalist."
Theater Of The Organ
Due to a lack of deep dish pizza, today we had the energy for a third location.
The Portage Theater in Portage Park.
It's old.
It's huge.
It's great.
They play mostly kooky movies.
It attracts a lot of sci-fi/horror mouth breather types.
As a former indoors kid, I could relate to these sweatpantsed misfit boobs.
We filmed the theater's organist.
He played the big red crazy organ.
I smiled like a pale dork with a terrible complexion.
We had to move quickly.
A marathon of slasher flicks was coming.
The Portage Theater was becoming haunted.
The lobby filled with blood-rubbed outcasts getting into character.
Test screams danced with an endless loop of the Halloween theme.
I think it's in 5/4.
People dressed as nerds and weirdos were lining up outside.
A morbidly obese man in a Bears jersey lurked the halls.
His stench was more powerful than the popcorn.
If only it were just a costume.
My grip knowledge had expanded.
I put Shimaras on Jokers.
I put egg crates on Kenos.
I put 'em on 4 foot.
I Hollywooded with a 3'x2' flag.
"By the end of this shoot you'll be union," said Adam.
Naps Are For Cats
We were done by 7pm.
I had to be at the bar in three hours.
I drove the dream van to the parking lot.
I rode my bike to the restaurant where Lauren works.
Lauren served me pizza and beer.
I wanted to take a quick nap before working the bar.
Luckily, our friend Jessica lives in the apartment above the restaurant.
Unluckily, she was out of town.
So I just slept on her back porch for all of ten minutes.
Y'know.
Like a vagrant.
Zorked
I was zonked.
So zonked I was Zorked.
Everyone at the bar looked like a grue.
To cope, I played the Andrew Sisters on the jukebox.
"Rum and Cocaaah Cola..."
A couple of older dudes got bittersweet drunk and played "Fooled Around and Fell In Love" by Elvin Bishop.
I liked it.
Then they got up and played it again.
I liked it again.
I guess I was pretty tired.
I watched a girl put on a bunch of Kinks songs.
I felt her boyfriend watching me watch her.
I like the Kinks.
Suck it, guy.
Before I got a chance to play Elvin Bishop again, a woman enthusiastically can-canned to "Lake Shore Drive" by Aliotta Haynes Jeremiah.
Workin' for the yonkee dolluuuhhhhh...
Verdict: Win
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