Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Mike Visits the DMV, Remembers Pain
I LAST LEFT you with the grim prospect I faced yesterday: a 4 a.m. call time for a shoot that turned out just as miserable as I was warned it would be.
It was indeed 4 a.m. when we met in Long Island City, loaded our van with equipment, and then promptly drove it all to Brooklyn's nether-regions, a.k.a. Red Hook. The location, a bar called Moonshine, was still emptying from last night/this morning's alcoholic hold-overs, but standing outside it with a smile on her face was the craft services girl offering me a cup of hot coffee. Life was okay.
We stood in the cold huddled around our coffees for a moment before unloading our van. We had no way of knowing, then, that this was the beginning of a sixteen hour day. We might have stood there a little longer.
Lunch, unlike the day before, was provided (of course, this was an all-out, thirty-strong crew compared to the five of us on Monday), and at the end of the day everyone had warmed up to Moonshine enough to want to stick around for drinks after wrapping. I opted for home and sleep.
Anyhow, in case you're wondering what today's trip to the Department of Motor Vehicles has to do with food, it doesn't have anything to do with food. It was just one of those moments where, after three separate forty-five minute waits in three separate lines, I was reminded exactly why the DMV is the butt of all jokes about government bureaucracy. Ineptitude and humanity at is most hilarious.
And then I came home and ate an egg sandwich and strawberry sorbet for dinner. Awesome.