Just to finish up the adventures on the wardrobe set man in New Mexico from yesterday. It was some time after the flood, and they were shooting near the north/south highway again. The little tear-drop caravan had to be ditched after the flood. A new trailer was brought in all the way from Tucson courtesy of a friend of the driver captain. Darryl could actually stand up in it, although he had to step outside to change his mind (rim shot please).
After finishing the morning’s work, the company headed south. This time Darryl has been pressured get the costumes out of the dressing rooms and into the trailer. The teamsters were anxious to get to the next location because the caterers were already there and the drivers were about to go into meal penalty. If they timed it just right, their meal penalty would start just before they sat down to eat. They would eat their meal and get paid the penalty too.
Darryl was in the passenger seat in the car speeding down the highway and he was worrying. Did he lock the door of the trailer? He would do what he called a, “fake lock” while they were shooting. It involved turning the lock so that it looked as if it were locked, but it wasn’t really. This time, however, Darryl couldn’t remember if he had put the lock back on at all. His fears were soon realized.
First, a raccoon coat worn by one of the stars hit the windshield. It seemed to come out of nowhere. Pretty soon wardrobe was flying at them. It looked as if some great tumbler full of clothes had dumped its contents on the north/south highway. Darryl was yelling for them to stop, but the driver wanted catch up with the wardrobe trailer and get that driver to stop. After 20 minutes, they did catch up. Darryl had put the lock on, the door had blown off. He spent the rest of the afternoon going up and down the highway looking for costumes.
Now he knew he was never doing another western.
A dopo e Moochas smoochas,
Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).
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