Kids Get Busted on the Set of a Nickelodeon Movie for Stealing Booze
Another day, another 18-to-look-younger rave scene. Oh, joy. I just LOVE getting glitter all the fuck over everything! Not to mention the fact that the regular crew of 18-to-looks are pretty messed up on whatever the trendy drug of the week is 90% of the time.
I worked a lot with the 18-to-look calls. 18-to-look is basically somebody who's over 18, but looks younger. The cast of Beverly Hills 90210 can tell you more about this phenomenon than I. As you can see in that oh so wonderful screen cap of me, I'm not blessed with a mature face. I get carded buying cigarettes almost all the time. I get carded at casinos every time. I get carded trying to get into R rated movies. Once I got carded going into a PG-13 movie. That was mortifying, to say the least. I don't even bother going into bars, as they won't serve me. They declare my ID fake and hustle me out the door. My husband has to buy our beer, and he's a full three years younger than I am.
Anyway. The call went far and sundry for the new Nickelodeon movie, "Clockstoppers." Directed by one Jonathan Frakes. Oh he of the Star Trek, macho-haired goodness! Ok, I'll brave crowded sets and bad rave music to meet this guy.
Our call is in a wonderful, seedy little club somewhere in North Hollywood. Our holding area is the "VIP" lounge of this club. It's a nice change of pace from the grubby, dusty soundstages and tents I'm used to. Along the back wall of this club is a well stocked and heavily locked liquor cabinet. It's enormous, covering the entire back wall. It's got bottles I've never even seen before, with dates that start with 18 and go on into 60s. Rare, refined stuff here, kids. We all stake out our spots, set up our canvas folding chairs, and wander around. I've got one friend there today, my friend Ruth. She was pretty cool, although she did occasionally give into temptation and smoke the weed on set.
(I've got nothing against weed. I don't smoke it, but it's not a big deal. It is, however, blindingly stupid to smoke up at work.)
We get onto set about two hours later and start setting up for the rave. Jonathan Frakes is there, and OMG the man is wearing butterfly wings.
BUTTERFLY WINGS. NO! THAT IS WRONG! COMMANDER RIKER DOES NOT DRESS LIKE A GODDAMN FAIRY!
He took them off almost immediately when we started filing in, but not before a good amount of us had seen them. It kinda set the tone for the rest of the day. Johnny boy was really goofy, and loved telling dumb jokes, and was just a sweetheart and a half. But...
Oh my God. I can never watch TNG again without laughing my head off. It's ruined, the era is over, play Taps and say Goodnight Gracie.
So we rave and we dance silently to non-existent music. (The music is never played on set, so the mic can pick up the dialogue. If you're sharp, you can see every extra in almost every dancing scene dancing to entirely different beats.) I see lots of people wearing PLUR bracelets, and, being the cave dweller that I am, ask Ruth what it means.
"It means Peace Love Unity Respect. Duh."
Oh. Of course. Duh. Silly me.
That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard of.
And then I notice that Mr. Frakes is wearing one too.
That's it. I'm gone.
It's again time for a cigarette break. (Starting to notice a theme to my stories?) I wander back over to holding, to see if I can grab my book. I think it was a Discworld book, but I'm a little fuzzy on the details 4 years later. And I'm hit with strobing red and blue lights, parked right outside the holding area.
Oh snap. What's up, doc? I wander on over to the PA nearby, who's just shaking her head and looking mightily aggrieved.
"A couple of background broke into the liquor cabinet in the club. They're being... sent home."
No shit. They're being sent up, if I'm any judge. Yeah, sure enough, here come two of the guys I'd been ignoring all day, cuffed and woebegone, led out by the short and curlies by two of Los Angeles' finest.
I ask if it's ok to get my things out of holding, and the PA says yes, so I make a quick retreat to make sure that our erstwhile friends hadn't snaked any of my stuff.
Holy shit. It's like a fucking war zone in here! Broken glass everywhere, bottles, the front of the liquor cabinet. They'd even managed to shatter one of the skylight windows. That takes talent. I quick grab all my things, shake the glass out of my canvas chair, and move my spot to someplace a little less crime scene-y.
And, oh hilarity of hilarity, here comes the rest of the talent pool. All of whom were looking a tad peaked.
"Oh man. I jokingly said we should bust that cabinet open," I hear Ruth say. Smart, Ruthie. Real smart.
And this is what goes on the set of a kids movie. I shudder to think about what happens on the sets of "adult" movies.
Thanks go out to Forum Goon OnYourRight. If she manages to come up with a few more stories, I'll probably do this again next week. See you there!
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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