July 11th, 10pm-5am EST
First off, what’s with the names these days?
Second, I just want to state for the record that I was DONE. I was wrapped on the film, and I had plans to catch a ride to the Buffalo Greyhound station and hop on an early Binghamton bus. Therefore, I was the only one at the table who had any business—
Well, let’s start from the beginning.
We’ve finished shooting for the day. While we’re phasing out, the new cast is phasing in, and there are complications with keys and rooms and medications, as well as issues involving special effects. Greg is grumpy and busy, a bad combination. There seems to be a sense of crisis hovering around the production. (Just for the record—this sense of crisis was absent during the two days of shooting with the Flashback-tors. Take that, New Generation!)
I deal with this muted panic the way I always deal with such scenarios. I excuse myself. Sephera, Wil and I hop in her car and truck on over to the Irish pub, repeating our debauchery from the night before. You can’t blame us. The food is good, the drinks are cheap, and it’s not too loud, not too quiet—it’s juuuuust right.
Sephera and I chose pints of Killians, while Wil stuck to his Jim Beam and Coke, and we discussed the various crises that had suddenly engulfed the set. There was an actor, staying at the Actor’s House, and it was locked, and the actor didn’t have the correct key, and his bags were inside, and he needed his bags. We had suggested to the actor, through John Renna, the production designer, that they all just head on over to Sangria’s, a great restaurant right around the corner from the Actor’s House, and just hang low until Greg and company could get the problem solved. Sandra, Marcos, Carlos and Eduardo were already there, so they’d have company. This solution did not suit the actor, who it must be repeated, needed to get to his bags. There was talk about breaking a window, a lock, etc.
Sephera had wanted to swing by the Actor’s House and see what we could do to help. I took more of a hands-off approach, and suggested that we could help best by staying out of it, and not adding to the general angst. To contribute to the smooth running of the production, all we had to do was take care of ourselves, and keep our noses clean.
At some point, we realized that Kealan, my character’s new possess-ee, was just down the street at the FX lab getting de-slimed. We gave him a call and asked if he wanted to join us. About two hours later, he showed up.
Kealan is the guy that pubs were made for. Irish, engaging, talkative, and a drinker, he took things up to the next level. And the next five levels after that. He started chatting up the bartender, the owner, the patrons. Soon, people were buying us drinks, strangers became best friends. The owner sat at our table and told us jokes and anecdotes about Buffalo Bob. It was incredible, magical.
It was also 4:15 in the morning. None of us were in a condition to drive. All of us needed to sleep, none more so than Kealan, who had a full day’s shoot tomorrow—make that today!
After a few aborted attempts to get everyone out of there, I finally succeeded. We staggered back to Sephera’s car. I was elected driver, based on the fact that I could still form consonants. We drove verrrry carefully to the Actor’s House. About a mile away, Kealan pulled out his key at the same moment as I hit a pothole, and the key flew out of his hand. We pulled over in front of the Actor’s House and searched, but could not find the key. It’s probably there right now, lodged in a black hole between the seat cushions. Kealan knocked, but the other actors were asleep and didn’t answer. Now Kealan contemplated breaking in—the Actor’s House would have the distinction of having been broken into twice in the same twelve hour period.
Finally, I herded everyone back to the car, insisting that breaking into a house at 4:45 am was apt to be misinterpreted by the police (although I’m sure Kealan would be able to charm the officers out of using live ammo.) We got back to Greg’s at 5 am, walking in as Greg was waking up. He wouldn’t look at us—a bad sign. We got Kealan set up on some couch cushions in the costume room, and I dozed for an hour before figuring out my transport to the bus station.
That’s how we keep our noses clean in Buffalo.