En Route to the First Shoot

Not exactly sure how I ended up in Pittsburg but it was the necessary connecting flight to get me to NYC without costing a grand or some ludicrous amount like that. It's a Sunday so I don't mind the couple extra hours of travel time. Plus, I've never been to Pittsburg. Not that I got to see what was beyond the airport...

General observations: lots of skinny white dudes working at the various shops. As I wander a bit in between flights, I am surprised to discover a Victoria's Secret in the airport! Something about that really surprises me... Yes, it's a major American retailer. And yes, it sells what some could argue are necessary garments... I venture in, but feel as though buying underwear in an airport is slightly bizarre, almost inappropriate.

Especially for a place that has thick black plexiglass shielding the "T&A" on Maxim, Stuff and Blender. Doesn't that seem a tad bit strange? Risque red dental floss thong lingerie in plain view... glistening bikini-clad photo of girl hidden from view. Is Pittsburg that conservative of a place? It's definitely a strange sight... the models' eyes peering over the plexiglass shield... But I wander on.

Something about travel makes me super drowsy. I've been doing enough of it lately, and it's always the same dazed state that accompanies me as I wander through airports. I suspect it's the cabin air - it's the only thing that seems to make sense. If that were indeed the case, it would explain why oxygen bars were popping up in airports at one point.... I think I saw one recently in Vegas... are those things still around elsewhere? I don't know.

I venture into the candy store:

a) because I have an insatiable sweet tooth and
b) American candy amuses me

As expected, there were chocolate bars I had never seen before... something called "Cow Tales" and some weird Reese Peanut Butter cup thing that was filled with marshmallow.... curiouser and curiouser! I wonder if there are infinite possiblities for types of candy bars. So it would seem....considering the amount of artificial flavours out there. Or have we seen it all... every variation and combination of a finite group of key ingredients? It's hard to say.

Who eats Baby Ruth, anyway?

I pick up some weird candy bar and go to pay, handing over what I think is an american dollar coin, but is in fact a Loonie. I suspect something is wrong when the young cashier's brow wrinkles as she looks down at the coin. I apologize, saying I handed her the wrong coin and she passes it back to me saying: "You probably want to keep this. I've never seen anything like it before". I have to keep a straight face. I could excuse her ignorance, seeing as she works in an airport in a country that shares a pretty large border with Canada -- home of the bright, shiny Loonie.

But, am I being unfair to this young gal? American readers, would you recognize the Canadian loonie if it crossed your palm?

I can't decide if I prefer flying the big jumbo jets (more passengers, more hold up getting on and off) or the smaller planes (closer quarters, no entertainment). Regardless, my nose keeps getting me into trouble on my travels. On the connector to Pittsburg, I was sitting beside an average looking mid-40s gentleman. And he vaguely smelled of some chemical you might whif in a dentist's office. Of course, I'm convinced I have the sharpest nose on Earth as I detect the most subtle of scents, for better or worse. In this case, worse. 1 1/2 hours worth.

So, I get onto the plane to NYC -- a big jumbo jet this time. And it's the longest I've waited to actually get INTO the cabin. It turns out practically everyone on the flight is trying to cram slightly too big carry on luggage into the limited overhead bins and somewhat arrogantly arguing over it.

So we stand, and we wait.

And thus, my familar "warning" appears as I'm en route to NYC. The young man beside me on the plane is sitting on my seatbelt. He's annoyed when I interrupt his grade-school-girl gossip with two female friends sitting a row in front. I say thank you -- his reply: "Right."
"Right?" What would be "wrong", then?

I think I dislike this response even more than the American favourite: "Uh huh." I guess my over abundant use of "thank you" puts a big glaring Canadian sign on my forehead. I'll keep it thank you very much. Politeness goes a looooong way in my world.

The "he's with her....ohhh can't believe she did that"-type gossip finally stops and dude sits back to begin munching on his hangnails.

Yes, I love travel.

I'm travelling to NYC for my first official shoot for "What A Booty!" And I'm without a securiy blanket -- it's my first trip to the Big Apple entirely solo. I'm worried about the filming. We're trying to pull off a little experiment -- my NYC gal character and me -- and how we're going to accomplish it logistically and deal wih releases as well as rude folks is making me antsy.

I have yet to have a trouble-free shoot in NYC. I'm convinced it's actually impossible. I know New Yorkers can smell fear, but do I really have time to retrain my brain?

I check into my hotel room in Times Square. This one officially is the smallest one to date I've ever stayed in. It's nicely done up and has a plasma tv. BUT, the ENTIRE ROOM is the Queen bed, with less than a foot of walking space around it. No closet, no bathtub... bare bones. I really don't mind.


I meet up with a friend of mine. We grab dinner and she helps me pick up some camera-friendly makeup at Sephora. She's a doll. We have coffee, hang out. I call it a night.

Until I'm woken up in a jarring fashion at 3AM. An alarm is going off in the hallway and it takes me a few seconds to remember where I am and assess the situation. Remember, I'm super paranoid and anxious by nature. So I'm thinking, if someone pulled the alarm as a diversion, the same person might very well see me come out of my room alone in my pyjamas and target me later on... So I lie very still, and listen. I hear someone in the hallway asking if it's getting shut off.... 15 minutes go by, and finally it stops.

And I proceed to toss and turn for several hours before drifting off into a light sleep. My alarm goes off what feels to be SECONDS later at 7AM... and I'm off to an un-restful start to my day. I won't even get into what the useless front desk gal says to me when I voice my dismay at the inconvenience.

New York -- you and I are going to take a bit of a break from each other. I know I said I'd give you another try, but you won't even meet me half-way. There are other cities that will treat me far better, I assure you.
It's your loss.

But there's no time for dramatics... it's time to officially SHOOT!!

Wish me luck!