Day Two of principal photography brought yet another set of revelations I will carry with me for the rest of my life. I've had less than 24 hours to ruminate on them and already I can feel the novelty of two of them fade away and the experiences themselves harden into wisdom.
First and foremost, Transportation may very well be the most important department on the logistical, nuts-and-bolts side of film production. Not because they are responsible for getting trucks and trailers or cast and crew to and from where they need to be, but rather because they are responsible for fixing the lock on the men's room door of the portable restroom trailer. This is important because I was walked in on taking a crap, twice, despite making a concerted effort to lock the door, twice. I know what you're thinking: who takes two dumps before 10:30am? I do, that's who. Thank you, Starbucks drip coffee.
The first time I got walked in on, it was by one of the security guards on set. He is an older black man from in town, probably late 50s, early 60s, with a deeply rutted face and tufts of graying hair protruding from the bottom of his hat. He didn't bat an eyelash when he finally noticed me and what I was doing, which is shocking since I was absolutely punishing that toilet with the remnants of breakfast and dinner from the night before. "Sorry, friend" was all I got out of him. I'm not sure if he was just being stoic or if he is used to walking in on strangers punching holes in his local septic system, but I want to believe it's the latter so I don't feel awkward around him in the lunch line tomorrow.
The second time I got walked in on was worse, though, since it was Producer Extraordinaire, Sean McKittrick. All he wanted to do was take a leak, he said, he didn't want to see my bare legs splayed out in preparation for a colonic exorcism. The ironic part is that I really didn't have to crap too bad that second time and, as such, Sean's reaction was disproportionate and unnecessary. I was just being on the safe side since my morning's coffee hadn't quite worked itself all the way through, and to be honest I hadn't even started yet. But whatever, I'm just splitting (butt) hairs.
The second and more important thing of note from Day Two was The Heat. The Heat in the Deep South can sneak up and punch you right in the gut. Day One started hot and stayed there, so there was never really a point during the day that you weren't girded for 95+ degree Heat and it's sweaty Italian cousin, Humidity. Day Two, however, started remarkably pleasant. It was a nice prelude to the morning interior work. What better way to get and keep cast and crew in a good mood to start the day than with good weather? Then we walked outside for lunch and got kicked right in the crotch by 100+ degree heat and worse humidity than the day before. I've played basketball and golf for hours in 110+ degree heat in Arizona and Palm Springs. I've been to Northern Africa. They have nothing on the unexpected increase in temperature outside this little house in Shreveport, LA. It took 90 minutes just to focus my vision.
It's no wonder so many things move so slowly down here. They kinda have to.
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