Hayden's Birthday Haiku Book

XXVI

If money were no object, I’d send singer-songwriter Brandi Carlile to serenade Hayden on his 26th birthday tomorrow (April 19). I’m confident she could belt out a sufficiently awesome rendition of “Happy Birthday.” To satisfy his appetite for speed, I would get him his own customized Delta-7 Aethersprite Jedi starfighter. Why not dream big? Under no circumstances would I set him up on a dinner date with Angelina Jolie. Hey, a girl has to draw the line somewhere!

Regrettably, my personal coffers are running a bit low right now. Which is primarily why I did not participate in DesiringHayden.net’s THCBP. Now, I enjoyed last year’s THCBP and took part in every way possible: charity donation, recipe, music & kiss submissions. I also sent him a handmade birthday card. This year, DH.net scaled back their birthday operations a tad: charity donation, a compiled book of fans’ favorite dirt bike trails, and a star registered in his honor. Two out of three involved cash, so that only left the dirt bike book. Don’t have a favorite dirt bike trail. Don’t really know much about the sport. It involves… um, dirt and, uh… help me out here. Soiled motor bikes? I think they sometimes run them on a course. That’s the extent of my knowledge and I have no burning desire to dig deeper. Get it? Dig… dirt… dirt bikes.

Lack of substantive funds meant I had to get my creative juices flowing. Luckily, my Valentine’s Day poetry came to the rescue. Why not package those happy haiku into a little booklet for Hayden? Natch, I reserved a few of my faves for this special edition. A sympathetic editor booted the mushy ones out of compassion for Chrishy-poo, who is easily embarrassed by this fan adoration stuff. Because I spent an obscene number of weeks days hours toiling over this project-gone-amok and don’t expect our birthday boy will ever see my labor of love (that’s for “his people” to sort through and catalog), I’m sharing it here with you.

Since it was a large file (36 pages!), I produced JPEGs of each page and used a display format that should work well with slow Internet connections, thus keeping those server hamsters from dying of exhaustion. So, without further adieu, here is the highly anticipated, never to be repeated…

Hayden’s Birthday Haiku Book

I climbed across the mountain tops
Swam all across the ocean blue
I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules
But baby I broke them all for you
Oh, because even when I was flat broke
You made me feel like a million bucks
You do… and I was made for you
— Brandi Carlile, “The Story”

HP Bk3, 355  / 435

[18 April 2007]

Virginia Tech campus mourns (Reuters photo)

“Criminals Are Made, Not Born”(OT)

That was the message on the sign left behind by the perpetrator of the worst school massacre in U.S. history. No, I’m not referring to Cho Seung-Hui, 23, who gunned down 32 individuals in yesterday’s shootings at Virginia Tech. This particular tragedy occurred 80 years ago, 18 May 1927, to be exact, in Bath, Michigan.

The Bath School Disaster did not involve guns (at least, not directly). Andrew Kehoe, a disgruntled member of the school board, planned an elaborate series of events: killing his invalid wife, burning down his farm, and rigging his shrapnel-filled automobile as well as the community’s school with dynamite. Forty-five were killed and 58 wounded. Mostly young children were his victims. In this day of the 24-hour news cycle it’s not surprising that an 80-year-old event would be forgotten. In fact, only a few days later, this tragedy was wiped off the front pages by the news of Charles Lindbergh’s famous transatlantic flight.

By all accounts, Kehoe was an intelligent man. He was right in that evil begins first in the mind of the perpetrator. When an individual cannot find an appropriate release for his anger and/or shame, the results for society can be disastrous.

My heart goes out to the victims in Virginia, their families and friends, and the entire VT community. The unspeakable horror of this crime defies comprehension. Sick minds can envision the worst mayhem that humanity has to offer. I will never understand it as long as I live.

My next post, hopefully, will be more upbeat.

HP Bk3, 355  / 435

[17 April 2007]

Factory Girl marquee in Ann Arbor

That’s Gross!

I guess Hayden won’t be starring in another Lucasfilm, Ltd. production anytime soon. Instead, they cast Shia LaBeouf to play alongside Harrison Ford in the fourth Indiana Jones movie. Coincidentally, I was thinking of taking in monsieur LaBeouf’s latest, Disturbia, this weekend. The previews reminded me of Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window. I think I’m one of the very few who saw his golf biopic, The Greatest Game Ever Played, which grossed a paltry $15 million. Ahem. We won’t mention the total gross for Shattered Glass (*cough* $2.9 million) or Factory Girl (*cough* *wheeze* currently $1.6m), natch. Luckily, Hayden does have a couple of financial biggies in his coffers.

Of course I don’t delude myself into thinking that Mr. C actually measures his success in dollar signs. No, I’m $ure that’$ not the ca$e at all. Even suggesting it is… grotesque.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch… it’s been quite a hectic week. I’m feeling a lot less stressed out now that certain pivotal events have passed. Namely, Holy Week (I practically lived at church last week), my sister’s birthday, putting the finishing touches on Hayden’s spectacular birthday card/booklet, and completing my federal and state income tax returns (I owe the state $2 — I’m going to feel so stupid writing that check). And, no, I don’t have plans to reveal my gross income.

Most importantly, Hayden’s birthday card is done, done, done. Signed, sealed, delivered I’m yours! Actually, I did consider mailing myself to Toronto. However, not knowing exactly when the birthday boy would return from filming in Tokyo, I felt it wasn’t worth the risk to my health. Cooped up in a cardboard container, a girl can subsist for only so long on a meager supply of Cheetos and Gatorade. Plus, there’s that indelicate matter of waste disposal to consider. All together now… That’s so gross! Yes, I know.

Watch out, Brady Bunch!

Speaking of grossing people out, one of my sister’s birthday presents was a picture frame. I realize that doesn’t sound like anything terribly disgusting, but this was a rather unique picture frame. Filled with nine wallet-sized photos of her only favorite sister striking various thoughtful poses. While I thought it would spruce up the decor in her living room, she plans to stick it in her office, “so all my students will think I have a doofus for a sister.” I’m thinking that Hayden might’ve preferred this same gift over a silly ol’ birthday card. Especially since it includes a couple of those coveted tongue pictures. Ah, well, too late now. He’ll have to be content with his one-of-a-kind Birthday Haiku Book. Stay tuned. The unveiling is, you guessed it, April 19th.

HP Bk3, 284 / 435

[13 April 2007]

Shy Hayden

Sex, Lies & Videotape?

If you have 10 minutes to spare, take a look at this video interview of Hayden on YouTube. It was done last week at a photoshoot in Toronto (where he takes a milk bath!). Watch him turn ten shades of adorable. The female interviewer asks him a string of questions, several inane, and he gamely attempts to provide intelligent answers though resembling a trapped animal. He looks so uncomfortable, poor baby. His answers in regards to romance/sex with his female costars are particularly amusing. On the one hand, he claims all that stuff you see on film is fake, fake, fake, and his policy is to deny everything regarding rumors of romance with his costars (condoning lying, are we?). On the other hand, when asked specifically about the sex scenes with Sienna Miller in Factory Girl, he’s more evasive. Funny, I seem to recall that Sienna reacted the same way in her interviews on that very same topic.

I suppose they think we’re gullible enough to believe that their passion was so real that they got carried away and committed a very intimate act in front of the cameras. Puh-leez. If Hayden can barely answer prying questions about his love life without blushing and stammering, it’s a stretch to believe he would do something that explicit for an audience.

“But,” you argue, “he’s a professional! He might make that ‘sacrifice’ for the sake of art!” Uh-huh. And a few of you would interject, “After all, it is Sienna Miller… naked! What red-blooded Canadian male would pass up a chance like that?” All valid points, but ultimately unpersuasive. Granted, the sex scenes in Factory Girl were probably more realistic than usual, but that doesn’t make them real. They’re just a product of good acting, direction, and editing. Given that I’ve had real sex (not with Hayden, obviously), I think I’m savvy enough to know the difference. Now, I’m not saying they didn’t enjoy their scenes together. They probably did. No doubt Sienna, having just dumped that two-timing scum bag Jude Law, would have been hankering for a little nooky. And Hayden was physically available, definitely not a scum bag, and probably feeding off those frisky vibes. Sienna’s performance, not surprisingly, was very emotional and effective, but I’m guessing she was able to tap into a very full reservoir of recent, personal experiences.

So, where was I…? Ah yes, the interview. Well, Hayden does say for a future project he’d like to do something where his character gets to drive fast cars. Apparently the man has a need for speed. I suspect he might have been making a pitch for a guest starring role on that Fox television drama Drive that premieres next week, starring Nathan Fillion (Firefly, Serenity) and Melanie Lynskey (Shattered Glass, Two and a Half Men). It looks like he might be free for something like that, since he claims he’s not doing that poker flick, The Madison Kid. Gee, color me disappointed. Not.

Finally, I simply must comment on his hair and attire in this interview. Although the cropped hairstyle for his Jumper role has kind of grown on me, I vote for growing it out again as soon as that gig concludes (evidently sometime around his birthday). Also, give the hoodie under the jacket look a rest. It’s so 2005. Time to make a new fashion statement, hon. He could stand a little interview coaching, too. A plethora of “uh’s” pepper his replies. Granted, this does appear to be the unedited version, so I should probably cut him some slack. Lest you think I’m being too hard on our boy, know that any interview with Hayden makes my day.

The smile on your face I live only to see
It’s enough for me, baby, it’s enough for me
Oh, heavenly day, heavenly day, heavenly day
— Patty Griffin, “Heavenly Day” from her album “Children Running Through”

HP Bk3, 227 / 435

[06 April 2007]

I’m Swamped
 

…you know how much I love watching you work, but I’ve got my country’s 500th anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my wife to murder, and Guilder to frame for it.  I’m swamped.
— Prince Humperdinck, The Princess Bride

Boy, I can relate. Free time for musing has been hard to come by. Last week I acquired a box of my deceased great aunt’s genealogy research. A real treasure trove. Plus, I’ve been working hard on Hayden’s birthday card. Spent a gazillion hours on that card, but that’s what perfectionists do. Why, oh why, does Hayden’s birthday have to occur so close to the U.S. income tax deadline (April 17)? And my sister’s birthday is this week. It’s really bad when I remember Hayden’s birthday, but nearly forget that of my own kin. Arrrgh!

Time to relax

To get the genealogy stuff from my cousin, we arranged to meet at a restaurant. He arrived seconds ahead of me. I snuck up behind him just in time to hear him tell the hostess, “…so, if you see a good looking blonde woman, direct her to my table.” Good looking, eh? Well, that certainly made my day. Even better, one of my aunt’s albums held a photograph of my great-great-great grandparents who were born in the late 1700s. Wow! Also, there were two letters from my cousin who lives in Thornhill, Ontario. If that place sounds familiar, it should. It’s where Hayden grew up.

You’re probably wondering what that coded stuff was at the end of my last musing. It’s obviously a secret message that only Hayden can decode… Ha! Actually, I preordered the seventh and final Harry Potter book that’s coming out in July and I want to get all of them read before its release. Since perfectionism and procrastination go hand in hand, naturally I held off reading the series until this year (however, I’ve seen all the films). So I’m tracking my progress at the bottom of each post. Thus, the code below stands for “Harry Potter Book 3, page 212 of 435.” It will be a miracle if I get all six books read in time. Wish me luck!

HP Bk3, 212 / 435

[03 April 2007]

Exhibit One

Dumb and Dumber

Sorry to bore you with another off-topic post, but this is a somewhat amusing it-really-happened-to-me tale that I just had to share. So, gather ’round the rockin’ chair, children, and I’ll spin this yarn for what it’s worth.

Nine, ten weeks ago I was hankerin’ for some new music. Not just any music. I was in the mood for somethin’ besides my usual diet of rock, alt-rock and soundtracks. I took a gander at my wishlist. Ah yes, The Best of the Monkees has been on it for eons. And how ’bout them newfangled Stephen Foster tunes? That dude really rocks. Amazon.com was having a great sale on the Monkees CD, so I put in my order for both (to get that Super Saver discount on shipping).

A few days later I get an email notice that my order has shipped. On Tuesday afternoon I checked the tracker and saw that it had been delivered around 4:30 p.m. Oh, goody! Well, I get home ’bout 7 p.m. and there’s mail settin’ on my back porch, but no package. Now, my intrepid mail carrier, he don’t venture to my back porch unless he has somethin’ that won’t fit into my mailbox (located across the road from my house). Since it’s dark as Darth Vader’s cloak (obligatory Hayden reference) at 7 p.m. in January, I fetched my flashlight to search a bit, hopin’ that I wouldn’t meet up with any ornery nocturnal critters (raccoons, possums, rabbits, groundhogs, foxes, coyotes and deer have been known to traipse on my property). I found two advertisements and packing material (a lone air pillow pack), but no sign of the box or its contents. Disappointed, I retreated to my house. Okay, someone or something has absconded with my package, but who, or what? I had my suspicions.

In mid-January the sunrise occurs concurrently with the time I leave for work, so a second search commenced the following morning before dawn. Two more pillow packs were found in the side yard and a third in the backyard, but that was it. I even walked along the road, scouring my neighbor’s yard. You see, I suspected that my package was stolen by… no, not my neighbor. His two dogs.

I call them Dumb and Dumber ’cuz I swear they share one brain between them. Whenever I walk to my mailbox, they come racin’ across the yard barkin’ menacingly at me. Ten days earlier I had decided to play a game with them. A staredown. I won. Flummoxed by my refusal to yield to their super canine powers, they backed away, turned tail and ran for the safety of their backyard. Heh-heh. I guess we know who the alpha dog is now, I told myself, oblivious to all that the position entailed. After that, much to my chagrin, Dumb and Dumber became quite attached to me — greeting me at my back porch every night as I arrived home from work. Stupid dogs would fall over themselves tryin’ to get to me.

Shortly thereafter, D&D nabbed my package. Unfortunately, I couldn’t prove they had nicked my lovely CDs. All I had were packing materials. No invoice, not even a shred of cardboard box. Despite their dastardly deed, the boys continued to greet me every evening. I asked them through clenched teeth, downright nicely I did, what they had done with my !@#$% package, but they just drooled adoringly and yipped back at me.

Naturally, I called my mommy — to whine about it commiserate. She agreed that the dogs were the likely culprits. This same neighbor had posted a notice on his back door with instructions for packages to be left in an old truck on the property, or else the dogs would eat them. Gulp. Eaten? My precious not-yet-paid-for CDs were… puppy chow? I felt sick.

To make a long story short, my neighbor claimed he searched but could not find the CDs, and doubted that the dogs would even leave his property (however, my parents, who live down the road a piece, backed me up on that point). Before long, several inches of snow fell and I had to give up my search.

Then yesterday, I pulled my car into the neighbor’s driveway in order to turn around. As I waited for a car to pass, I spied two squarish items in his yard near the driveway. Since a small, gnawed piece of the Amazon box had blown into my yard a few days earlier, I was cautiously optimistic. I got out of my car and walked over to the first item. It was my Stephen Foster CD, sans shrinkwrap but still safely ensconced in its dog-eared case! The other item was the liner notes to my Monkees CD; three pieces of a second CD case lay nearby. But no Monkees CD. Given the condition of its case I don’t hold out much hope for finding it in playable condition.

Anyway, I’m tickled to have one of my CDs back. It was soggy but played just fine once dried. The picture above shows what I was able to recover. I’m going to keep my eyes peeled for the other CD. Maybe I’ll get lucky again. As for the recovered CD, it contains updated arrangements by truly awesome artists of Foster’s standards: Beautiful Dreamer, Camptown Races, Oh! Susanna, My Old Kentucky Home, Old Folks At Home (Swanee River), etc. It’s got your usual piano, fiddle, harmonica, mandolin and banjo, but I gotta admit the electric guitar licks on Autumn Waltz kind of freaked me out.

HP Bk2, 152 / 341

[20 March 2007]

Hayden uses mind control on helpless webmistresses

Meeting Celebs

I know what y’all been saying about me behind my back. Ha! I got ears like a steel trap, er, my mind can sense a pin drop… oh, just forget it! Yeah, you’re thinking… That girl just can’t hack being around or meeting celebrities. She’s lost her mind “The Touch.” Sure, she met a few television actors some years ago, but what has she done lately? Got herself thrown off a film set. Pitiful! Well, I’ll have you toads know that…

I am BACK! Yes!!!!!

This week I met a bona fide Hollywood celebrity. By some crazy fluke, a thrice-Golden-Globe-nominated actress and critically acclaimed author actually graduated from my high school. Yeah, I can’t explain it either. Anyway, she returned to her alma mater to be inducted into our school’s Hall of Fame. Yep. Milan High School Class of 1961. That’s right. Just so you know… we’re not talking about a Teri Hatcher or a Drew Barrymore; those gals weren’t even around in ’61. I attended this celeb’s book discussion and signing Monday evening. Okay, I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. It’s Denise Nicholas.

Don’t give me that “Denise who?” nonsense. Come on, you nymphs! Does the television drama In the Heat of the Night ring a bell? No? Maybe your parents remember her as guidance counselor Liz McIntyre on ABC’s Room 222, which was the Boston Public of the ’70s. Originally from Detroit, Denise attended Milan all four years of high school (at least that’s what she told me). She also attended the University of Michigan for two years before joining the Free Southern Theatre in Mississippi and Louisiana during the summer of 1964 as part of the Civil Rights Movement (1955-1968). From there, of course, she went on to do film & TV work.

However, at 62 Ms. Nicholas has left the acting world behind to concentrate on writing, a profession which is far less lucrative, paycheck-wise. She still gets an occasional call from her agent, but the roles that are offered rarely appeal to her. She feels it is an industry geared toward the young and doesn’t have the energy or passion for it anymore. She quipped that no amount of make-up could ever make her look good again, so why bother. Hayden must sense this, too. It would explain why he is working so hard right now — while he’s young, hot (meaning, in demand) and attractive. Make hay while the sun shines, as they say.

Her well-received first novel, published in 2005, is called Freshwater Road and is set during that Freedom Summer of 1964. Denise used herself and her Detroit background as a starting point for her protagonist Celeste Tyree, but stressed that it is not an autobiography. Some of the experiences portrayed did happen to her, but in a different context. For instance, the time a police officer held a gun to her head on the streets of New Orleans was too provocative to exclude from this fictitious account, but, for Celeste, it happens under different circumstances.

The film rights to her book have been picked up. No screenplay yet. Ms. Nicholas has written plays and penned six episodes of In the Heat of the Night (under the tutelage of the late actor Carroll O’Connor), but feels she has no real knack for writing scripts. She has long preferred imagery over dialogue, yet admits her acting experience was helpful in crafting realistic dialogue for this book. She is under contract for a second novel, which will be a romance set in Chicago during the meat packing industry days of the 1950s.

During the Q&A session, where I was the youngest member of the audience, I asked how much time had been devoted to research as compared to actual writing. While she didn’t provide any hard numbers, she talked about how each character has their own story arc, that the entire book must be in the author’s head, and that all those arcs must fit together and make (in this case) historical sense. She had Celeste’s daddy swigging Crown Royal whiskey throughout the book until she awoke one night with the awful thought that maybe that brand wasn’t available in Detroit in 1964. Internet research bore that out (it was introduced in the U.S. in ’65), so she tweaked his story arc to reflect that his private stash was imported from Canada. Problem solved!

Denise, then and now

So, does Denise Nicholas have any special connection to Hayden? Of course, silly. Would I mention her if she didn’t? Aside from the obvious — film, TV and theatre careers — we can play the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon game quite easily. You see, Mark Hamill appeared in two episodes of Room 222 in 1973 and Mark Luke is Hayden’s Anakin Skywalker’s son in the Star Wars saga. Technically, that’s cheating because Mark and Hayden never actually worked together, so let’s continue the game… Mark Hamill was in Star Wars: Episode VI - Return of the Jedi with Ian McDiarmid. McDiarmid played the slithery Emperor/Sidious, who patiently employed his diabolical plan to turn Anakin to the Dark Side in both of Hayden’s films, Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith. If you want to connect both Hayden and Denise to Kevin Bacon, Denise worked with Bruno Kirby who played Herbie Constadine on Room 222, and Kirby appeared in Sleepers with Kevin Bacon. Voilà! Thus, Hayden is three degrees removed from Ms. Nicholas. Since I got to meet her, that means I am four degrees removed from Hayden! Even more shocking, Mark Hamill had an acting career before Star Wars. Who knew!

[14 March 2007]

Infamous breezeway in background

That’s a Wrap!

Larry the Jumper Van Driver (not his real name) was not a big talker, nor was I. His Cabela’s gloves were lying on the dashboard and I just happened to be wearing my Cabela’s mittens that day. When I remarked on this happy coincidence, Larry waxed on about Gore-Tex® and Thinsulate™ linings. Mmmm-hmmm, they do keep one warm. Altogether unsure if I should even open my mouth, I nonchalantly asked about filming on Sunday. Larry wasn’t sure but thought they probably would be. I didn’t bother to inquire about their location. I already knew I was persona non grata at the school. Camera or no camera, the fire-breathing production assistant would likely kick me out of the park as well.

The temporary parking lot was a mess. Friday’s mud had frozen into deep ruts, which made for treacherous driving. Larry asked where my car was parked. Reluctantly, I pointed it out and he managed to maneuver his van behind it without breaking an axle. I had not expected curb service but thanked him for his kindness, which he brushed off as no big deal. I hopped out quickly, hoping he had not noticed my car’s HAYDENC license plate or made its connection to the film’s star. Most likely, he was a local hire who had had no direct contact with Mr. Christensen himself.

Needless to say, I felt pretty humiliated about getting myself thrown off the set of Hayden’s film. You’re probably wondering… what made this chick think she could just walk onto a film set in the first place? Did she believe they would allow just anyone to watch a movie being filmed? No, of course not. In retrospect, I realized my time at Paramount Ranch had lulled me into a false sense of security, regarding what filming on an outdoor set was like.

Paramount Ranch is a Western town film set located within the confines of the Santa Monica National Recreation Area near Agoura Hills, California. Due to its location, in what is essentially a national park, film crews must work with (and around) a curious public. Therefore, park visitors could watch filming from a distance and photography was allowed as long as the cameras weren’t rolling. The film crew and actors of the television show were accustomed to the steady flow of gawkers, fans, and curiosity seekers. During down times, some would even mingle: answer questions, pose for pictures and sign autographs. Despite the lack of a set pass which would have given me greater access, I was able to watch four days of filming, get my picture taken with a couple of the show’s regular cast members, and briefly converse with and obtain the autograph of my favorite cast member (along with a smooch from his dog). One member of the crew even tried to talk the AD into making me an extra (at absolutely no prompting from me). I talked several times with one of the cast members (his wife’s family was from Michigan). He and I even exchanged emails after my visit. Obviously, that actor did not view me as a threat. Oddly enough, one of our conversations centered around inappropriate fan behavior.

So, as you can see, my one and only experience at an outdoor set (prior to this) was a favorable one, not to mention very fan friendly. Perhaps it was too idyllic. P-Ranch was a fairly open film set. Obviously, this was not the case with the Jumper set, despite its public location. Although no one specifically said so, it operated more like a closed set. No spectators or photography allowed. At least that’s my perception. The local newspaper had mentioned the locations and days of filming, but never warned the public to stay away. My encounter at Gallup Park on Friday had been similar to my experience at P-Ranch, so I guess I expected the same treatment at the high school location. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Please understand that I harbor no animosity whatsoever toward the woman who threw me off the set. On the contrary. She was only doing her job (and doing it very well, I might add). In her eyes I was a trespasser, not an innocent bystander. Actually, I felt reassured, knowing that Hayden was in such good hands. No crazed fan would ever get past this woman!

So, was Hayden in Ann Arbor with the Jumper crew? Apparently not. I saw no trace of him or any of the other principal actors. I don’t even know if director Doug Liman was at the helm that weekend. He could have sent one of his assistant directors instead. I also doubt that any filming occurred on Sunday. Freezing rain caused very dangerous conditions that morning. It would have been unsafe as everything was coated with ice. The local newspaper carried no mention of filming occurring that day.

While the weekend did not meet my expectations, I’m happy to report that some good did come out of it. When I recounted my exploits to my hair stylist later that day, he thought it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Mortifying if it happens to you, but hilarious when it happens to someone else, I guess. I was relieved that Hayden had not been present to witness my humiliation and thankful that I had worn sunglasses on Saturday, despite the cloudy sky. That way, no one on the Jumper crew could see my eyes (or identify me in a line-up). Best of all, the stress of the week — due to the anticipation of possibly seeing or meeting Mr. Christensen — caused me to lose over five pounds. Not that I would recommend this weight loss method to others, mind you. There has to be an easier way!

[07 March 2007]

Huron High School sign

Humiliations Galore

Or, How to Get Thrown Off a Movie Set

Had I realized the nightmare I was about to encounter, I would have stayed home. Oblivious to my impending doom, I approached the school from the front (Fuller Road) side. Maybe they were filming behind the school. When I was in the Ann Arbor Civic Band our rehearsals were held at Huron High, but I could no longer recall the school’s layout or the location of the band room. Moving toward the breezeway, I could see that it was now empty. No signs of life. Was this another dead end? As I stepped into the breezeway, the tops of yellow school buses came into view and a blinding key light shone in my direction. They’re here! Cool, I found them!!

My initial elation soon gave way to anxiety. Would Hayden be here? Could I go through this breezeway without wandering into a “hot set”? Surely they would have such an area cordoned off or security personnel positioned to stop any idiot who tried to... Just then, my thoughts were interrupted by a sound that struck terror in my heart. Nearby a two-way radio blared, “Background, background. Let’s move, people!” The doors immediately to my left sprung open and teenagers poured out into the breezeway.

Oh, shit!

These were the students, the extras. From my experience at Paramount Ranch I knew a “background!” cue meant that background actors, or extras, were being set into motion just prior to the camera rolling. I was caught in the middle of live action!

Girl, you are so DEAD!

What now? Running away would only draw attention to myself. I spied a brick wall on my right, maybe 30 inches (76 cm) high, and ducked behind it. Although I had not seen any camera, I feared a camera could still see me. I pressed my body into a corner and leaned against the wall, trying to look inconspicuous yet feeling anything but. Kids scattered in all directions, eventually hitting their marks, often breaking down into small groups as if to “chat” with their friends.

A guy with a “SECURITY” vest strolled through the middle of the breezeway. My panic began to ease a little. This is a rehearsal, I reassured myself. He wouldn’t walk through the middle of a shot (as I had just done) if the cameras were actually rolling. Still, I had no business being in this area and desperately wished I had Davey’s talent for teleporting. Two teenaged boys stopped in front of me and began to gripe about the cold. Good, now I can’t be seen. I’ll just cower here in my corner until someone yells “Cut!” and make my escape when they reset the scene. Just then, a cute guy with a two-way radio spotted me — possibly one of the ADs. It’s his job to notice every detail, like when a background actor is out of place. “Are you supposed to be here?” he looked directly at me. “No, I need to get over there, ” I answered, pointing toward the buses, “but I don’t know how.” To my great relief, he offered to escort me.

I joined him in the center of the breezeway and apologized for walking into their shot. I think he muttered something about it being a rehearsal. He asked if I was a parent of one of the kids and I said no, that I just came to watch. He seemed to hesitate, so I asked where I should stand in order to see the filming. He looked out toward the camera, lights, and hubbub of crew activity, momentarily confused — they had just moved the cameras. After several seconds (which felt like hours) he directed me to go around the front end of the first bus and then stand behind the last bus in the line. That looked like a decent spot to me as well. He said it was safe for me to proceed. I thanked him for his help and followed his suggested route.

Heading toward my new vantage point, I noticed a track on the ground next to the buses for a camera to roll on — for a pan shot. I tried to look casual and inconspicuous even though I knew I wasn’t. The film crew wore mostly black; the kids (extras) sported solid-colored and two-toned jackets, primarily North Face or Columbia, which is standard wearing apparel among students in Ann Arbor. Many of the kids had backpacks — also fairly common. Me? My blue paisley parka stuck out like a sore thumb. Of course, it had been my intention to stand out in a crowd. If Hayden was around, by golly, I wanted him to notice me among the sea of drab Northies and Columbias. I knew my parka was distinctive. Complete strangers have stopped me in the street to rave about my coat. But now, my only desire was to blend in.

Standing in my spot, I casually observed that I seemed to be the only casual observer on the set. Where were the doting moms and dads, proudly watching their progeny break into showbiz? Again, the queasy feeling returned. Another cute guy with a radio approached me and asked if I needed help. Why are all these guys so darn cute and polite? I demurely turned him down, stating that I was only here to observe. He, too, asked if I was a parent. As if I needed another reminder that parents were conspicuously absent. Hoping it might give me a certain gravitas, I offered that I had seen a TV show being filmed outdoors before, but this was my first movie. I explained that another person had directed me to this spot, but I could certainly move if he wanted me to. He said I was probably okay where I was, then told me that if I had any questions to just ask — his name was “Billy” (all names have been changed to protect privacy). “I’m Kathy,” I replied. Billy smiled and walked back toward a group of kids.

That’s when it hit me… had the cameras actually been rolling, my little stunt could have cost the production hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars. Hayden’s film! My insides began to quiver like jelly. Having narrowly escaped a major faux pas — wandering into the middle of a scene — you would think I would have learned my lesson. You would think that. Well, my next move was just as brilliant: I whipped out my camera to take a few photographs. I snapped a picture of the film crew next to the buses, pivoted, then took another of a group of extras. At that point I discovered that my digital camera was set to the lowest quality JPEG setting. Drat, I needed to fix that but couldn’t recall how. I set the camera down on the pavement in order to consult the instruction manual. As I flipped through the pages, a woman walked up and asked if I was taking pictures. From the tone of her voice I knew I was in trouble. “Yes,” I gulped. She informed me that photography was not allowed. Silently berating myself for yet another misstep, I apologized, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Way to go, Kath. Should have asked Billy first.

Unauthorized Jumper set photo

She then proceeded to grill me. What was I doing here? Was I a parent of one of the kids? (again, with the parent question!) After hearing my (truthful) answers she bluntly told me, “You can’t be here. You need to leave. Now!” Oh, shit! The last thing I wanted was to cause trouble. I was taken aback by her brusque manner. Stunned and hurt, I bent down to retrieve my gear as she walked away. Relieved that she hadn’t confiscated my camera or asked me to erase the pictures, I just wanted to disappear, as quickly as possible… but how? Unless I had a death wish, retracing my steps was out of the question. How could I get to my car on the other side of the building? Oh, Davey… I could really use a jump right now! Where’s the man when you need him? Probably somewhere warm and tropical. The woman who had ejected me was talking with Billy, so I gathered up my flagging courage to ask for their help. Clearly, the woman could not be bothered and waved me off toward the wooded area behind the school, which looked dark and foreboding. Was that a safe route to travel all by my lonesome?

Behind the buses I found another guy with a radio. Maybe he would help a damsel in distress. I quickly explained my dilemma. Could I use the sidewalk that wrapped around the northeast corner of the school? It seemed like the most direct route. He was skeptical. He then offered to have someone drive me to my car. A van was idling nearby with a “Jumper” placard in its front windshield. The crew guy opened the passenger-side door and asked the driver if he would be so kind as to drive me to my car. While the driver was agreeable, I resisted. “It’s not that far, I can walk. Just tell me how to get there from here.” But the crew guy insisted that I jump in. Realizing that it was probably my best option, I jumped into the Jumper van.

To Be Continued (Part IV: That’s a Wrap!)

[02 March 2007]

Where's Hayden?

Where’s Waldo Hayden?

Having mistakenly set the weekday rather than the weekend alarm on my dual alarm clock, I awoke at 5:21 instead of 4 a.m. Eek! Could I shower, do my hair and makeup, dress in layers, and be out the door by 6:00? No, of course not. Great, I’m already behind schedule. Yet, the temporary parking lot was empty when I arrived. The park was still closed and someone was monitoring its gate.

At 7 a.m., five yellow school buses exited the park, heading east on Fuller Road, then turning north on Huron Parkway. It seemed odd that they were leaving rather than entering the park at that hour. Were they now going to pick up the cast and crew? If so, I guessed they would return by 7:30, but that deadline came and went. By 8 o’clock I was getting antsy — the sun was up now — so I pulled out my camera to verify that everything was in working order. That’s when I discovered I had left the rechargeable batteries at home. Wonderful! How long would my backup set last? If I drove to the pharmacy to get more batteries, would I miss out on an opportunity to see/meet Hayden? If I stayed put and my batteries died, would I lose out on my one and only chance to photograph Hayden? Oh how I hate quandaries. Things looked dead here. I half expected tumbleweeds to blow across the parking lot (except Michigan doesn’t have tumbleweeds). A dash to the pharmacy it is.

Upon my return there were eight cars in the temporary lot, which seemed promising.  I decided to grab my gear and check out the bridge location. Much to my disappointment, only one truck was parked near the bridge. The man with the auger was inspecting the ice again. But where was everyone else? Security? Crew? Actors? Firefighters? Police? I didn’t figure Ice Man would be forthcoming with helpful information so I opted to walk the “Inside Loop” trail in the park to keep warm. It was cold, dry, and mostly cloudy. Perhaps there would be more activity when I returned. Nope. Aside from the Ice Man, there were only joggers and people walking their dogs. By this time (nearly 10 a.m.), exasperation was fast replacing my boredom. Precious daylight was being squandered and I had a hair appointment at 3 o’clock. Would I get to see any filming? It felt like I was playing a game of Where’s Waldo?, knowing that they were likely hiding in plain sight.

Base Camp sign outside Huron High

Huron High School, the other alleged filming location, was just up the road, about 150 feet (46 m) from the park entrance. A sign at the driveway entrance said “Base Camp, Crew Parking.” According to Security Gal, this is where everyone had eaten lunch on Friday. The parking lot was crammed with vehicles, equipment, and a few white tents, just like it had been Friday evening, but there was little sign of human activity, let alone filming in progress. Maybe a dozen people were milling about in a breezeway between the two sections of the school building. Two crew vans exited the base camp parking lot, heading in the direction of the park. I felt pulled in that direction, like a puppet on a string, yet something did not feel right.

It was puzzling. Where was Waldo the Jumper crew? Had they completed all their filming requirements at the park Friday? Did the ice require more time to set up, forcing the crew to switch to the high school location? Freezing rain and snow were predicted for Sunday, which could literally muck up their shooting schedule. Could the mysterious figures in the school’s breezeway actually be significant?  I decided to head back.

To Be Continued (Part III: Humiliations Galore)

[01 March 2007]