Go fast? And Jay Leno

So, the other day, I went to get a part for my new engine. I needed a water neck. No big deal. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten to get one in the first place.

For a little fun during a stupid parts run, I took the Viper.

On the way there, I almost blasted past a cop. Whoops! Thank goodness for Granny in her Camry, whom I was behind, or I’d’ve probably gotten a ticket.

On my way home, however, things were a little different.

Traffic was kind of bunched up on city streets. It seemed like everyone was Christmas shopping and in zero hurry. (And that wasn’t just because I happened to be in a car that hates going slow! People really were driving far under the speed limit in one giant herd.) I passed a blue late model Mustang that was wheezing like it had a supercharger on it. I glanced again and saw a cowl hood. Okay, so this was the moment of truth.

Generally, when another sporty car rolls up on me in the Viper, their first thing to do is spar with me, rev, cut me off, something. It’s usually some hot-headed guy, too.

But this guy–or I should say ‘person’ because unfortunately, I never did see the driver–kept giving me room to get around.

It was weird. I was totally expecting the small-minded, gotta-get-in-front-of-the-Viper, how-ya-like-me-now attitude, but instead, there was this weird respect-like thing.

Personally, when I see anyone driving something that sounds healthy and looks like the driver is a car enthusiast, I always give right of way, lots of room, thumbs up “nice car” if I can, no matter which of my cars I’m driving. But generally, in the Viper I don’t receive the same whether I give it or not.

So, I’m driving toward the freeway, the Mustang’s giving me room, I wanna see who’s driving just to give a thumbs up if nothing more, when finally, there’s a break in the traffic and I can squeeze through.

I drop a gear and blast. So does the Mustang. And I’m sure we were both hoping to spar a little on the freeway.

But dammit…I was going east and he was going west. Ah well. I hope we meet again. His ride was damn sweet and probably would’ve smoked me because I’m not real good at speed-shifting the Viper. Ah well. That story’ll happen another day, I’m sure.

Speaking of sparring…I’ve got a few other favorite stories.

Last year, I was in the Prowler, following Jason who was in the ’98 Corvette we no longer have. I was hardly paying attention to much other than driving when a black German car kept speeding up, slowing down, goofing off next to me.

Finally, I glance over, unsure what/who I’m gonna see and there’s this really, really, really, really cute guy rolling down his window. I smile, unsure why other than that he’s obviously some kind of car guy and having fun on a Friday night.

I don’t remember the exact conversation other than that he was surprised that my Prowler wasn’t fast. It’s really not. It’s only got a V6 in it, but because it looks odd, people think it’s fast anyway. He wanted to spar, but then, he asked me out.

And oh my goodness, if I weren’t married, I totally would’ve accepted.

But then, as I shook my head, he said, “You with him?” and pointed toward Jason in the Corvette ahead of me.

I nodded, completely shocked that the guy guessed it…like somehow he just knew. That was such a strange encounter and I loved every minute of it. When Jason and I got to the restaurant, we both had a good chuckle.

I guess car chicks are simply hard to come by and guys will go to crazy lengths to score one sometimes.

Last year around this time, I did a shoot waaaaaaaaaay out some of the canyon roads near my house. I left the shoot and had zero intention of following the directions to the freeway because I didn’t want to take the freeway, I wanted to play in the canyon twisties. I was driving my ’68 Mustang Fastback.

So, I haul ass, 4-wheel-drifting around corners, keeping my car in my lane, of course. Only once did I go over the yellow and I’m not sure if that was because I was drifting or I couldn’t turn the wheel hard enough. My car does not have power steering, but I muscle it down the road at warp speed and in my rearview, I notice a Cadillac that had been following me since I left the shoot.

Anyhow, out of the canyons and into town, we stop at a traffic light. My window was down. Mr. Cadillac called out, “YOU ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” He was truly in awe judging by the grin on his face and enthusiasm in his eyes, but then he continued, “How do I get to the freeway?”

Whoops….Poor guy hadn’t been keeping up with me because he wanted a hard drive, he’d wanted to find the freeway! Sorry!

From that stop light, I had him follow me to the freeway. That was a very fun trip.

And now for my best sparring with the boys story:

I was on my way to Jen’s baby shower, so this had to’ve been 2000.

But anyhow, I was heading southbound on the 101 through Studio City. Traffic was tight, but there was a little room to move. I was in my ’68 Mustang Fastback.

I’m bored in traffic and still have at least an hour left on the road, so I start to weave a little bit. Not cutting anyone off or anything, just trying to change my scenery when a bizarre 20s car…make that racecar…rolls up on my tail.

Stranger than that, I think the driver looks like Jay Leno.

Yeah, Jay Leno is a car guy, so anything’s possible.

But still, me being a car chick and him driving the cooler car, I most definitely feel obligated to get out of his way, even help him get through traffic easier.

So, I keep weaving, leaving him room to get by me, but he’s just not taking it!

I’m still going, waiting, leaving a mile in front of me…

Finally, as the 134 is about to split off, he changes lanes to my right. Then he rolls alongside and with a big ol’ grin on his face, gives me a thumbs up!!!!

Yep! Jay Leno gave ME a thumbs up!

Good golly!!!! I still grin at that memory!!!!!!!!!

Parking my Viper in someone else’s spot

Yesterday, I was on Twins and a strange little thing happened.

I was instructed to park my car in someone else’s reserved spot. Okay, whatever, as long as I had permission. But I wasn’t assigned a specific spot, I was allowed to choose one myself. Rather than reading people’s names, or the shows they worked on, I just chose the widest space and shoe-horned my Viper into it.

Good golly, I felt bad for taking the guy’s space. His name was Bill something-or-other and he was working on the same show I was. Yikes! When I realized that, I was about to pull out of the space and park somewhere else, but at the same time, I figured that while I was on the stage, if I happened to hear some guy complaining that some asshole had parked in his spot, I could at least go apologize to the poor guy.

And then I thought about it… If I had a reserved spot and I drove, say, a Pinto and someone in a Viper had sniped my spot. Would I be ticked off? I mean, yeah, I was out a space, but there was a Viper in my spot–with my name emblazoned over it. Would that really be so bad?

But what if I drove a Mustang?

A Camry?

Some kind of Porsche?

A Ferrari?

How would I feel about my spot being taken by a Viper?

And then I got to thinking about disregarding what I drove. How would I feel about those other cars being in my spot…

And what if I drove a Viper and found a Pinto in my spot–with my name emblazoned above it!

Good grief, those thoughts fueled vacations from boredom the whole time I waited to do my scene. So many different possibilities! Half of which, I really wasn’t sure how pissed off I’d be!

I never did hear anyone complain about a Viper being in his parking space. Too bad. It would’ve been fun to see how he’d felt.

Smokin’ Aces

Let me just say that this was one of my most surreal gigs…not in what happened or what didn’t happen, just in the way it felt to be there.

I had a 7 AM call time in a place that even without traffic takes about an hour and change to get to. I left at 5 and got lost in the fog, discovered I was given the wrong address and then finally found my way to crew parking.

…Where I pulled my ’68 Mustang into a space, got out and started unloading my baggage. (I dunno why I felt the need to bring that much crap this time, but oh well.) As I pulled my stuff out of my trunk, the fellow who’d parked his truck next to mine complimented my car. That was a very nice way to start a day. I was quite happy and looking forward to working.

I had the usual sign in, go to wardrobe rigamarole–nothing new there–except maybe that wardrobe liked my clothes. That was fun. I thought I’d end up changing because my sweater was kind of bright, but the costumer just had me put on one of my jackets over it. Cool deal. I sat in holding and waited to be brought to the set.

When the magic moment happened and we all filed into the diner and met the A.D., Steve, who’d be placing us, I was glad to discover that he was the fellow who’d complimented my car earlier. This was gonna be a great day.

Except that this was also one of those calls where I couldn’t figure out why I was there. My look wasn’t quite the same as everyone else’s and it became painfully magnified as Steve put together groups of people to sit in the diner booths. I ended up odd and following him around anxiously because usually whenever I get left out, I get just that–left out and forgotten. I get paid either way, but if I’m gonna get my ass up at 4AM to be somewhere, I better get used at least once!

At one point, he looked directly at me and out of the blue said something like, “Don’t worry. I’ll place you. Probably not until after the first rehearsal, though, so just sit tight.”

The thought that went through my head was, “HOLY SHIT! He read my mind! I LIKE THIS GUY!!!!!” And honestly, it’s rare to work for an A.D. who’s that attentive, doesn’t roll his or her eyes when the extras file in, and is above all at least trying to have fun despite the fact that making movies is serious business and very hard work. Oh hell yes, I was gonna have a great day.

I eventually got placed in a booth by myself and all was well. The scene involved Alicia Keyes and a couple other actors I didn’t recognize.

My remaining dilemma was business…what kind of business did I have by myself? The prop guy gave me a menu. Steve directed a woman acting as a waitress to come take my order. Another waitress came by with a coffee cup. But the scene kept on going and I needed something to keep myself occupied.

I pulled open my purse and started rummaging through. Unfortunately, I hadn’t put much in it and this wasn’t the kind of diner where I could whip out my palm pilot. I settled for my little notebook and pen.

That was what I did for the rest of that scene. After lunch (which oddly featured a bizarre extra singing songs I’d heard a billion times while playing his guitar and I think my ears might be permanently scarred, but oh the joys of being a background actor and being exposed to the surreal) I stayed in holding for about four hours and rewrote a scene of Otherness: Rift.

Right when the end of the day started looming, I got called back in to the set. This time, Steve put me at a different booth, but I did the same business. I was in super-ultra-deep background and the camera probably only saw me for a split second anyway. My tablemate read the paper and I doodled more in my notebook.

And here–in near entirety–is what I wrote during my entire time on set: [I left it stream of consciouness like in the notebook and I also need to warn you that there are several very boring passages, but they accurately show my state of mind, lack of sleep and some of the boredom that frequently goes through an extra’s head if he or she isn’t involved very deeply in a scene or near the camera.]

Smokin’ Aces today. November 15, I think. The A.D.–Steve is hot and likes my car. I parked next to him in the crew parking lot. It’s such a shame that I can’t really work much on Otherness: Rift today. This just isn’t the kind of place I can pull out my palm pilot. Ah well. Hopefully this scene won’t take forever. It’s pretty wide right now and I dunno how much I’ll be used in the rest of it. Still the most important item of the day is that the A.D. is hot. So is the boom operator. He stands next to me at the top of each take. We’re on 6. Now they slightly moved the camera and are still going. Oh boy. It’s roughly 10:30 AM. I wish I were done. Something just went wrong. A waitress missed her cue and now I still have a menu. Oh well. It’s certainly not the end of the world. I’m still writing and having a good time. It’s like these gigs just suck a day of my life into oblivion. I don’t know why it feels that way, but it does. Another take. I keep writing. I’m finally getting bored through lack of sleep. I had tea on the way over here but it’s wearing off. So totally wearing off. Let me ponder [my book] for another moment.

Same day. Later time. Got roped into coming back in here. I guess I wasn’t meant to leave in time to get another scene of Otherness: Rift done. I dunno. I feel like I’m where I need to be. I suppose I could’ve hunted through my purse a little longer on this take so I wouldn’t be writing as much. I can’t believe how bored I am now. I suppose I need caffeine, but still. I’m dyin’ here. I could write another section about how hot Steve is. It’s his blue eyes, hard-working attitude, and his choice in glasses–stylishly wide and I dunno–he’s hot. Simply hot. Steve just told me that one of the waitresses is actually Alicia Keyes’s mom. Little bit of trivia there, huh? I dig it. I still find that stuff fun, but I don’t usually hear it on the set. I ususally hear it later, or I’m the one who’d gotten the little bit of trivia. I could be wrong, but she either got a line, too, or she just had a line delivered to her. I don’t recognize the actors in this scene. They do look familiar, but I don’t know who they are. Side note: Last time I came here to Downey, I was auditioning for Lemony Snickett. That was a while ago. I still think Steve is hot. That’s–he’s–my theme for today. I could write about other stuff, but my brain is mush and he happens to be working nearby. Yeah, there’s tons of people and other things to look at, but the ancient, wilted salad in front of me honestly can’t hold my attention like Steve can. Alicia Keyes’s mom has pretty eyes. They sparkle. The number one reason why Steve is hot is because he read my mind earlier. He knew I was following him because I was waiting for him to set me. He knew. And that was incredibly hot. He didn’t forget about me, either. That was hot, too. Damn, his hotness is easy to quantify. I like his happy personality, too. That’s nice. Otherwise this would feel more like work. Way too much like work. My tablemate is coloring a placemat. Obviously, the camera can’t see us. A grip (I think, but can’t remember which equipment I’ve seen him carrying) originally brought the crayons to me.

And there you have it…my time on Smokin’ Aces!!!!