It was early morning. Too early in the morning. I slammed the pillow over my head, refusing to move, but I did take the day off. I shouldn't have, knowing how short my time was at work, but I needed a vacation. No matter how small a four-day weekend really was, I did not want to go to work. Instead, today, I would be on the set of a movie being filmed in Tuxedo, but it was still too damn early in the morning. And I peered out into the darkness, glaring at those red, beady numbers, wishing that I had a hammer to smash it with.
Winter was coming fast. The morning was cold, and I jumped into my car, begging for the heat to come on. Luckily, I wasn't going too far. A right, then a left, and another right, and I was on my way. The Mapquest directions rested beside me, but I had studied its map the night before, knowing my route. All I needed though was some asshole to ride my bumper because I was doing the speed limit, but I was warned. Tuxedo cops were not those to mess with, so my foot remained hovered over the gas pedal.
And there it was. They said a mobster lived here, a famous one known as Bugsy. How ironic was it that a small, white rabbit with dark red eyes awaited me outside the house. With a quick hop to the right, he watched me pull up in front of the garage, wrinkling his nose at me, and I wrinkled back. Then, I noticed the director standing not too far away, watching me, and it was time to begin.
If the outside was a refrigerator, then the house was a freezer. It had been on the real estate market for awhile now. Luckily, it had lights, but if you needed the bathroom, there was a porta potty outside. Not the most pleasant. Trust me on that, but I had errands to do. And the heat in my car saved me from freezing my ass off, but as the morning became day and day melted into night, I found myself now tucked in, standing close to one of those electric heaters.
An actor sat in a chair. His eyes narrowed with concentration. Lines dripped from his lips. Moments earlier, he was a casual guy. Now, he was in character and would stay that man until they wrapped. The room faded into set, and he was ready. His eyes focused on the kitchen door, waiting for his cue to come on in.
Most of the actors were from Manhattan, but I recognized a few from Acting class. I would be lucky to recall their names, but I remembered their faces. They welcomed me with warm greetings. One even rubbed my shoulder, and I just smiled with no words to say. In a way, I envied them. In another, I was glad to be part of the crew. There was pressure, and the people I worked with worked hard. But to be on set, in front of camera, and action ready was even more tough, and I still wonder, "Am I there yet?"
It was a closed set. Once rehearsals ended, we had to wait in the kitchen. I got my tour of the house in long before that. It was a magnificent mansion with old, wooden doors. The structures were of Hollywood, and I was mesmerized to envy such creation in person. Stairwells, large, spacious rooms, winding corridors were stuff of mystery, drama, but no time to dream. It was time to act, and for twelve hours, I enjoyed my moments on set, filming in Tuxedo.
Winter was coming fast. The morning was cold, and I jumped into my car, begging for the heat to come on. Luckily, I wasn't going too far. A right, then a left, and another right, and I was on my way. The Mapquest directions rested beside me, but I had studied its map the night before, knowing my route. All I needed though was some asshole to ride my bumper because I was doing the speed limit, but I was warned. Tuxedo cops were not those to mess with, so my foot remained hovered over the gas pedal.
And there it was. They said a mobster lived here, a famous one known as Bugsy. How ironic was it that a small, white rabbit with dark red eyes awaited me outside the house. With a quick hop to the right, he watched me pull up in front of the garage, wrinkling his nose at me, and I wrinkled back. Then, I noticed the director standing not too far away, watching me, and it was time to begin.
If the outside was a refrigerator, then the house was a freezer. It had been on the real estate market for awhile now. Luckily, it had lights, but if you needed the bathroom, there was a porta potty outside. Not the most pleasant. Trust me on that, but I had errands to do. And the heat in my car saved me from freezing my ass off, but as the morning became day and day melted into night, I found myself now tucked in, standing close to one of those electric heaters.
An actor sat in a chair. His eyes narrowed with concentration. Lines dripped from his lips. Moments earlier, he was a casual guy. Now, he was in character and would stay that man until they wrapped. The room faded into set, and he was ready. His eyes focused on the kitchen door, waiting for his cue to come on in.
Most of the actors were from Manhattan, but I recognized a few from Acting class. I would be lucky to recall their names, but I remembered their faces. They welcomed me with warm greetings. One even rubbed my shoulder, and I just smiled with no words to say. In a way, I envied them. In another, I was glad to be part of the crew. There was pressure, and the people I worked with worked hard. But to be on set, in front of camera, and action ready was even more tough, and I still wonder, "Am I there yet?"
It was a closed set. Once rehearsals ended, we had to wait in the kitchen. I got my tour of the house in long before that. It was a magnificent mansion with old, wooden doors. The structures were of Hollywood, and I was mesmerized to envy such creation in person. Stairwells, large, spacious rooms, winding corridors were stuff of mystery, drama, but no time to dream. It was time to act, and for twelve hours, I enjoyed my moments on set, filming in Tuxedo.
Published by Melissa R. Mendelson
Newspaper Reporter for Long Island's Smithtown Messenger Newspaper and its sub-issues, The Brookhaven Review, The Ronkonkoma Review, and Medford News; Freelance Writer for Hudson Valley's Photo News; Movie a... View profile
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