The scene took place on a cool summer day in Ohio, at the Ohio State Fair. But considering all of the extras were drenched in sweat all day long, I’m not sure the “cool summer day” idea is going to come across. Although, I did get stuck wearing a frickin’ long sleeved shirt, so I hope, to justify my day of excessive sweating, at least one viewer will notice the scene's pathetic attempt at a “cool summer day.”
I woke up at 5:30 this morning. (Actually, that’s a lie. I woke up at 5:15, but I don’t want you to judge me for the time I spent on my appearance for the small chance that my face might appear on the big screen.) I took a shower, fixed my hair and then referred one more time to the email of vague instructions sent to me.
“You may wear – pants, skirt, dress, shirt.”
So ... anything? I put on the white shirt and blue skirt I’d decided on the night before. My aunt picked me up at 6:30, and I took for granted our nice air-conditioned car ride to the site – the calm before the storm.
We arrived at the site, and we signed in. Wardrobe people started walking around, and it seemed everyone was passing their inspection.
Oh, wait, except me.
A young guy – wearing ugly, unfashionable clothes – asked me if I had another shirt.
What’s wrong with my shirt?! I picked out my best outfit for you people! Whatever. I quit.
“No, I don’t actually,” I responded.
Wardrobe Man explained that my white shirt would stick out on camera (So?) ... So I should wear something that would blend in better. He asked if any of my friends had an extra shirt, and luckily my aunt’s friend offered me one.
The morning was overcast, so my long sleeved shirt presented no problems. Aunt Sandy and I walked around for hours at the fair together, and I even had the energy to go out of my way to walk near the main actor and the cameras pointed in his direction. I was feeling really confident about my future career in acting.
After lunch, the clouds in the sky disappeared, and the heat was out of control. As soon as I stepped back outside, I thought I might suffocate in the heat of my shirt. Aunt Sandy, her two friends and I, however, spent hours in the shade of the pavilion … until we were caught and asked to return to the set, along with the 50 other people huddled under the pavilion.
When we were beginning to think the day was near its end, we were herded into a set of bleachers – bleachers that had been baking in the sun all day. Luckily, we had the foresight to bring leftover paper plates from lunch to use as fans.
We piled in and carefully selected a section of the bleachers that had the most potential to provide shade. (None of them really did. We were delusional by this point.) I took my seat between Aunt Sandy and her friend Mrs. Cherie.
As soon as our bottoms hit the pavement, Mrs. Cherie looked alarmed.
Mrs. Cherie: Sam, my ass is burning. … Is your ass burning?
Sam: Nah, mine’s okay.
Mrs. Cherie: Man, my ass is really burning. Maybe I should sit on this plate.
As Mrs. Cherie put her plate underneath her, the old man in front of us turned around to tell us his ass was burning.
Then, it hit me. I knew what they were talking about. I suddenly felt like I was sitting on top of fire.
WHY ARE THESE PEOPLE TORTURING US.
I quickly slid my plate between the bleacher and myself.
After everyone in the bleachers found something to sit on, we filmed the scene. We finished around 5.
Hallelujah, I survived the hottest day of my life.
Then, the director started giving orders for how to set up the next scene. He said he needed about 80 people to sprint across the field in terror.
Sprint? In this heat? After the day we’ve had? Yeah, right. You can kiss my burnt ass.
Of course, as I was one of the younger ones there, I was asked to be among the sprinters.
I tried to remember why I had ever signed up for such torture. Where the hell is Nicole Kidman anyway? Where are all the celebrities?
I trudged out to the field, and I met this nice girl who was feeling the same way I was about the day’s events. We bonded over our despair of being among the chosen sprinters.
After 30 minutes of waiting around, we shot the scene. After the scene, it was around 6. Sandy and her friends had had enough, and they decided we were done. When the director yelled cut, Sandy and her friends began walking away. Naturally, I followed. So did many other extras.
The director started yelling at us, telling us we weren’t done. No one listened. No one even thought about turning around. We were fried. Literally.
Seeing as his extras were revolting, the director followed everyone back to the main building. There, he dismissed us, and then we had to wait in a chaotic line to get our paperwork filled out, fighting other cranky extras over who was first.
Now I’m home and completely exhausted. I’m sleeping in tomorrow, and I plan to spend the entire day in the comfort of my air-conditioned home.
No comments:
Post a Comment