by Sam Hutchins
The three of us ducked across the street to grab a steak at Morton’s. The place was empty aside from our table. I couldn’t really get too involved in dinner as I was waiting for the waitress to call. Darius and Kar Wai seemed giddy with the prospects the evening presented. How perverse.
“So where will you take her?”
“Probably the Harbor Inn. We saw it earlier, over by the shipyard.”
“Okay, how long til you get back? When should we go to your room?”
“I don’t know, an hour?”
“Good. Leave a key at the desk in my name, then make lots of noise when you bring her back so we have time to hide.”
“Yeah, sure, OK.”
They really meant to go through with this. Creepy. Thankfully it wasn’t long before she called and told me to meet her on a corner a few blocks away. I made my exit with promises to leave a room key at the front desk. Of course I did nothing of the sort. I went around the hotel instead of through it, heading directly to her car.
As soon as I got in I realized what a dreadful mistake I had made. The car was piled with fast food wrappers, dirty clothes, empty beer bottles and all manner of garbage. She apologized and we gathered the detritus and shoved it into the back seat together. As we did I noticed the child seat in back. This was just getting better and better.
“Sorry, hon, the heat doesn’t work too well. Bundle up.”
Ugh. We drove down to the Harbor Inn but it was closed, locked up tighter than a drum. We could see a brightly lit faux-Irish bar down the block so we drove over to it. At this point I wanted nothing more than to go back to my bed. Alone. I shivered as she pulled up in front of the pub. What the hell, it can’t get any worse, why not? Leaning over I turned her face to me and went in for the kiss. She pushed me away.
“I’m not that type of girl. We just met. Let’s have a beer and get to know each other. But you should know that we’re definitely not screwing around tonight.”
And I had thought it couldn’t get any worse. We sat through a couple pints as she prattled on endlessly about her ex-husband who was in and out of jail as she struggled to raise her son. Apparently his greatest act as a father had been to buy the little tyke a motorcycle jacket. If the sometime convict had walked in on us drinking and shot me dead in a jealous rage it would have been a mercy killing. She wasn’t a bad person, just terribly uninteresting and overly self-involved. The disconnect between fantasy and reality can be jarring at times like this. Darius and Kar Wai were the lucky ones. They got to stay back in their warm hotel beds imagining the wild sexy hijinks I was up to. I instead sat in a cold, deserted bar listening to an unending monologue consisting of day care schedules, gripes about work as a cocktail waitress and longing for the convict father of her child. This really had nothing to do with making movies.
Over breakfast the next morning Darius and Kar Wai pressed me for details. The more I insisted nothing had happened the bigger their grins grew.
“Yes, a gentleman does not tell,” said Darius “But was she kinky?”
They convinced themselves some wild evening had taken place and no amount of denial on my part was going to change that. At least it gave us a few laughs over breakfast. The distraction was welcome, as I was pretty sure the film was dead and we were just cleaning up the mess. Based on a favorable forecast we made our way back to New York City.
Eight hours of driving in near silence. Kar Wai did as was his wont, gazing off at a point in the distance and disappearing in his own thoughts. Darius mainly slept. I was just getting accustomed to Kar Wai’s odd ways and wanted more time travelling with him. He would initiate conversations, ask you a detailed question, then something would catch his attention and he would just check out. It happened several times like that. Mid sentence you would realize he wasn’t hearing a word you were saying to him. An hour or a day later he would resume the conversation exactly where you left off, as though not a moment had passed. I wondered what was going on behind those glasses and wanted to find out.
Returning home was an odd feeling; it seemed so abrupt. After all those wide-open spaces and infinite possibilities I was suddenly fighting traffic by Ground Zero and planning to wrap up the job. I dropped the guys off at their hotel with brusque goodbyes and drove to Hertz. I had to explain how a car we were supposed to return in Phoenix a month ago wound up in Greenwich Village with me at that moment. I still wasn’t quite sure myself.
STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF THE SCOUTING LIFE.
Sam Hutchins has been working in film production for twenty years. He started as overnight security on the set of “Working Girl” while attending film school at NYU. Since 1995 he has been a location manager for some of the top names in the business. He’ll be blogging from a unique insider’s perspective on the filmmaking process, as well as speaking to his colleagues in the production community to share their experiences with you.