Eduardo & The Movies

EDUARDO AND THE MOVIES 

A squat grey building of only 34 stories.  

That’s where this one was going to be.    

Walking up, it was exactly that: a non-descript office building downtown.  

Saw the usual suspects.  

The faces that make the job worthwhile.  

Still possessed that joyful, excited sheen of doing it; seeing it live; experiencing it, but with not as much “new-puppy” excitement as the newbies all and always have. 

Still, couldn’t be denied: We were in the movies! 

We were: The Extras! 

The term “extras” was changed to a new-age, inclusive term of “background performer.”  

“Extra” still feels just as good. To me. I love us. 

Extras are people in movies who stand in the background to make the scene seem realistically busy and populated. We’re given no lines; and we’re not instructed, or expected, to projectingly act on-screen like paid actors are. 

However unsung we’ve been until Ricky Gervais’s TV show “Extras”, it cannot be denied that we’re as integral to the movies like anyone else. We’re just not as grandstanding as the movie stars, directors, key grips, location scouts, and best boys and catering managers are.  

Imagine if every party scene in movies had nobody else in them but the actual actors? It would look pretty weird, (And like one lame party!), wouldn’t it?  

We’re paid. We’re just unknown and fade into the background, literally, like passing fields along a highway. We are passing ships in the night. Integral; unnoticed. 

My beautiful, small city of Ottawa has a tiny, sturdy movie-making market. In a tiny niche market like this, extras usually comprise a small number of usual suspects. It’s always welcome to see familiar, friendly faces.  

Just like the movies. 

Today was filming in this office building, where the job was to be an office worker.           Imagine that?  

My friend Heather joked: “I go from my regular office job of going unnoticed to my hobby job of being unnoticed!” 

The thing about extra work, too, is the downtime. 

There’s a LOT of downtime.  

It takes time for the crew and director to set up oodles of equipment and lighting. 

           What do the extras do while waiting to get to work? Like soldiers at war: we wait until the action. Shoot the breeze. Have some laughs. Play “Crazy Eights.” Make new friends. Read. Be quietly star-struck. Make forts. Take naps.                                                                                              Once someone had a laptop and, uninterrupted, we watched the whole movie “Freddy Got Fingered” before we were needed. I got paid to watch a movie while making a movie! 

Another one of us I always see apart from Heather, (who is no guy, I should clarify!) is Eduardo. An older Mexican man and we’re cool acquaintances, but strangely never had beers before.   

We smiled. The old gang was put back together. We’d anonymously done many movies together. 

Myself, Heather, Eduardo were content; but the new recruits were so excited! We even overheard: “We’re in an office building! How cool is this??” Where Eduardo joked: “‘Acting’ like they care is pretty much what real office workers do every day!” Office buildings usually don’t warrant as much wide-eyed excitement in either the old or young….  

Within the context of making movies, though: heck yes! An office building was exciting. 

This day, though, I was excited about something else!  

I told Heather and Eduardo that I was going on vacation. 

THAT I was excited for!  

Heading for Europe!  

Paris; Bruges; Amsterdam; London and climaxing up in a huge, British back-packers music festival called: “Glastonbury.”  

They jovially wished well, and Heather cheerfully added that the “extra-extra” from this particular well-timed movie certainly wouldn’t hurt the “beer-fund.” 

We wrapped up “acting” as office workers.  

Afterward, I bid them all “Adieu!” and I was off for the big trip the very next week! 

                                                                       * * *  

The big week came.  

A beautiful Tuesday, June Morning in Ottawa. 

The sun was shining like it had its own cinematic, celestial lighting director.   

I was flying from Ottawa; connecting in Montreal; and first destination: Paris. 

The thing about Ottawa is it’s a small city of one million beautiful people.  

So, a market this size doesn’t need a huge airport, as many “smarter-than-me’s” have determined.  

We’re not a terrifying international hub like Pearson or the despicable Dulles. 

Sifted through customs and the pat-down. Checked my bag. The bar awaited. 

Flight time: Milled through the check-in line excitedly with my passport (I have no other greater possession than my passport!) and brilliantly joked with the check-in girl. 

It was a small, connecter flight. 

Thought nothing of it. 

Had my ticket and my seat. 

Outside; walking along the tarmac; stood in line. To get on my plane. Right at the back. 

(No matter their size, planes blow my mind.) 

I was standing in a long line. 

Could see my plane. There it was. 

Unassuming; almost taking it for granted that I’d cleanly get on because I paid for it.  

What could interfere?  

A-B-C to board; or O-M-P: Ottawa-Montreal-Paris! (That was dumb, and proud of it!)  

24 hours of every day there’s action on an airport tarmac. 

A constant pulse. 

A baggage cart driver/handler was driving three carts of luggage. 

His destination was nothing I was going to interfere with.  

However.… 

He didn’t have the same mentality.  

Was standing peacefully, until I heard: “HEY!! HEY YOU! IN THE GREEN SHIRT!! HEY!!!!”  

Awakening from a daydream state: I realized this man was yelling at ME! 

I was wearing a green t-shirt. A clean one, even! 

The cart stopped. 

This guy got right out, and was storming right for me!  

Maintained a strong, locked eye contact. 

Barreling straight for me.  

“HEY!!!!” 

There were sixty other people around. 

What had I done?  

Somehow, from 30 feet away, I tugged this guy’s skirt. 

I was scared; confused.  

Thoughts went racing as this bull was raging:  

“Did this man, this professional, pull over because he really didn’t like my green shirt? I mean really didn’t like it? He had to interrupt his work to tell me so? This angrily? Was I about to be intensely asked out? WAS it me he wanted to see pee himself?? Was I suddenly the ‘Chosen One,’ for something?? Am I a spy no longer to fly??? What’s going on?!” I glanced at him and back at the plane: “Wow, Fight or Flight?!”  

He was in full uniform with a strong, dark hat, thick glasses, and the sun glared my vision: I could only see intensity from those tanned eyes and not the shape of them. 

Unexpectedly, then and when this guy was frighteningly closer:  

Tone switched from heightened volume to pure joviality. 

“Hey Man! How are you? IT’S EDUARDO!” 

I could blink again. 

Took a recuperating, self-starting second to make out the face... but: YEAH! IT WAS! 

“OH…” -quivering and recovering- “Oh -HEY-HEY!!! EDUARDO!! What’s up??” 

“YEAH! HEY! WHAT’S UP, MAN???”    

Eduardo The Extra.  

From the Ottawa movie-making business: A glorious niche comprising of noticeably much fewer people working for it than those working for the AIRPORT!!!! 

(I mentioned this city of one million beautiful people is small....) 

“Feeling good! You’re going on your trip now, aren’t you?” 

(Briefly forgetting I was even doing that) “Yeah! I’m… off to Paris. Yeah.” 

“Sorry I kind of scared the crap out of you!” 

I started to laugh. 

“Yes! I thought: ‘What the heck did I do?! Did that check-in girl not like that joke I made about how ‘I’ll fly in, and boy: won’t my arms be tired!’? To where she hired someone like you to come ‘get’ me for it?” 

Eduardo laughed. 

“I’m glad I only made ONE stupid joke like that with her!” 

Eduardo laughed. “You didn’t say it over the P.A.. That’s good.” 

“I’m sure airlines love it when people tell jokes over their departure announcements.” 

Eduardo laughed. 

“All good! Now. Listen: which bag is yours?” 

Eduardo pointed to the carts 30 feet away. 

I peered into the distance, through the glare of the sun; but within the piles, I spotted my bag. A big, purple and black, oversized, stained, grotesque back-packers beauty. 

“Oh, I see it, Eduardo. It’s in there.” I responded unconcernedly. 

Eduardo’s tone turned steely. 

“I said: Which one is yours?” 

(….here came that fright near-pee again….) 

Pinpointing tellingly:  

“Mine is on the very bottom!! Third cart. Bottom left-hand corner. Underneath! The stained dark-purple back-packers hiking bag. The tattered, duct-taped one that no one would travel with, but I love!!” 

Eduardo nodded sternly. 

Wordlessly, he left.  

Eduardo pointedly stormed up to the back-third cart; ripped my bag out from its buried, bottom truss; giving it a good, hard yank out. He determinedly bypassed the line of two other handlers and two other whole carts ahead in line and threw my bag right onto the plane. 

He threw it with a passion that clouded the line between destruction and decency. 

From 30 noisy feet away: I heard the loud “thud” my bag made upon physical contact within the plane.  

Something probably broke; but I figured: Hey, It’s on there!  

He maintained unbroken, stern eye contact the whole time; making blatant, undeniably sure I saw exactly what he was doing! 

Completing the mission: Eduardo returned. Wishing: “Have a great trip, Man!” 

“Not so fast!”  

Now I was a bit mad!  

“Thanks for doing that. That was nice. But: this is your job? I thought you worked in an office.” 

Eduardo smiled. “Nah, man. Used to work in an office. Sucked! Got out and do this now. This and the ‘extra’ stuff. I like it. Keeps me physical; outside. Winters are a bitch, though.” 

I laughed. 

“See you on-set, man! I’d love to see Paris!” 

I was kind of moved. “Whoa, you remembered that that’s where I’m going?!”  

Smiling: “Nah. I know where the planes I am loading baggage onto are flying to, man!”   “That is good and useful info for you to have, I will say. I’d hate to hear ‘Wanna-play- “Guess-which-flight-your-bag-MAY-be-on?’” 

“Have a good trip, man! Got to load! We want planes to leave with luggage!”  

Laughing: I was off to Paris! 

* * *        

That was Tuesday morning. 

The next day, Wednesday, June 16^th, 2010 was one of the best days I ever lived. 

Stunningly: Spent the whole day with a beautiful Australian named Elle who was 26, like me, too!  

One of my favourite movies since 1995 is the beautiful “Before Sunrise.”  

My day with Elle in Paris was our very own, romantic “Life-ization” of “Before Sunrise!” 

* * *    

Six months later:  

Ottawa. 

Back on-set. 

There’d been no work since June. 

Location: a bar, as a patron. Something I was a natural at being… and “acting” as... 

Heather; and Eduardo, who was more recognizable out of natural light….  

Eduardo…. 

Oh, that Eduardo. 

Straight to the point: 

“Heyyy Man! How was your trip??” 

A bit confused because it was December, and I hadn’t traveled recently…. 

Eduardo saw my puzzled look.  

“To Europe, man. Last June? Paris? The Paris IN Europe. Man???” 

“OH!” I gathered. “Yeah! That was a while ago. Yeah! Fantastic! Loved it. Thanks.” 

“How was Paris specifically?” 

I was a little caught off-guard. 

“Paris was gorgeous. The highlight of the trip. One of the best days ever lived.” 

“Oh, did you have a romantic fling?” Heather intuited. 

I chuckled. 

“It was far more than just a ‘fling!’ But: yes.” 

Heather laughed. “That’s what they all say! Ah, Paris... dammit. So happy for you!” 

Eduardo was all business. 

“Which full day was that?”  

Now I was a bit weirded out.  

I got along with Eduardo but didn't know him THAT well.   

“Well, it was the very next day. Arrived on Wednesday and met Elle Thursday Morning.” 

“She even had a French name! Checked every box, eh?” Heather added. 

Eduardo smirked weirdly. 

“Good. Very good.”  

Even Heather felt the look in his eye was strange. 

“Uh, Eduardo, I know you helped me out and I’m grateful, but I got to ask: why is that so ‘very good?’ For you? Something is up...”  

Eduardo smiled at me, with a grandfather’s grin. 

“You said you loved it, no?” 

I remembered when I fell in love. 

“Yeah.”  

“You were happy you MADE it TO that day, weren’t you?” 

“Yeah.”  

(The movie business attracts some REAL characters!!)   

Eduardo was cleared for take-off; and launched like an epic: 

“Well, travelers always safely assume their bags make it onto the planes. But: not always do they make it. The bags I mean, not the travelers. Though that is true, too. I’m a baggage handler. I do a job many others do. One thing we know collectively about what we do that the public never knows is what goes on inside. Not everything about it is great, like all jobs. I mean, here we are getting paid minimum wage to be in the MOVIES!” – “Could be worse! UI could be at my government job!” Heather defended. – “Well, one of the details of my job is the physics of putting the bags themselves onto a plane. Sometimes: we physically cannot FIT all of the bags! We just can’t. There isn’t enough space. It’s not that we don’t want to, we just can’t! We want to do a good job with integrity and get everything onboard. But physical space tells a different story. What do I mean? I mean that sometimes we just can’t fit every bag onto the airplane. This is where we lose baggage. Almost every traveler has had to deal with lost baggage or their baggage not arriving with them. That is always an inconvenience and a bitch. I understand. Happened to me, too. Hundreds of things that can go wrong with how and why a bag does not arrive; but what I know is that one reason is simply it got spatially-physically left behind.” 

Speechless silence. 

“That day when I scared and spotted YOU, though…”  

My jaw was dropping slowly… 

Eduardo grinned even more grandfatherly… 

“….I spotted you, man, and I just wanted to make sure your bag was on your flight! I saw you. You saw me. That simple. You’re a good guy. You thought it was weird how I asked you which bag was yours, but when you told me, I quickly saw how far back it was. I assessed even more quickly, though, that your little connecter plane, WAS NOT GOING TO HAVE ROOM FOR IT!” 

“Holy Smokes!” Heather shouted. 

My lip quivered. 

           “So, your bag was on that back cart, I remember, the 3^rd one,” the baggage prodigy bragged. “So, I -” 

“EDUARDO!! HOLY FUCK!!!! I HAD NO FUCKING IDEA!!!!” I SCREAMED! 

(I got “shushed” from afar.)  

Eduardo saw I connected the dots; like he “connected” my connecter as a connection I never knew I had connected with this connectively! 

“MY DAY IN PARIS WAS THE NEXT DAY!” 

“Shushed” more.  

“What an assist, Eduardo!! NICE!” Heather added, impressed, a little turned on. 

(As was I.)  

I WAS DUMBFOUNDED! 

“Eduardo, I.. if you,,,, not,,,, my bag lost,,,, I might’ve had…” 

“….to go back to the airport inconveniently to get your bag, and that would’ve cut into your rest of your trip or your Wednesday!”  

Eduardo's face was gloating. Rightfully.  

“Eduardo: I’m buying you a beer.” Heather interrupted. 

I was speechless. Floored. Overjoyed. 

Thought nothing of it.  

THEN! 

Boy. 

“Eduardo: I… I say: ‘Thank You!!!’” 

“No problem,” Eduardo humbled down. “How could you have known? I knew you didn’t think much of it at the time but, hey: thank YOU for making this work we do here pleasant by being a good guy yourself. It was 'Thanks' in my own way, I guess." 

“In your own way.” 

“ALL WAYS SHOULD BE ‘EDUARDO’ WAY!” I BELLOWED! 

Eduardo laughed. 

Heather jumped, but then rolled her eyes and shrugged agreeably. 

Thought nothing of it….   

Heather joked: “I guess Ottawa has a cosmic way when its people go to Paris, eh?” 

“….and Mexico does, too!” Eduardo said, pointing at his own wonderful Mexican smile. 

I was flabbergasted.    

“Eduardo: Heather: I going to buy you all dinner tomorrow!! I will bring ALL my SAME luggage I brought on my trip TO dinner. For good luck. I’ll get to dinner on the same plane, even! I’LL HANDLE IT and the CHEQUE this time! Tomorrow 7:00 o’clock. You decide where.” 

They laughed. “....For ‘Good luck’....”: I heard them repeat mutter.... 

As I laid down the law, Heather added; “Well, I didn’t do ANYTHING, but hell yeah: I am in!” She fired Eduardo a sexy glance. 

“Well, man. Okay. I do like food. You don’t got to do that, but thank you. Sure.”  

“Oh, Okay” they both agreed at my insistence of buying them each a good dinner.  

“What we do in Life; Echoes in Eternity! And Geography!” said Maximus Aurelius in “Gladiator,” even in the background of the making of movies!!  

Eduardo certainly was a background performer, all right!  

His cinematic work was felt across the WORLD! Literally!  

My relationships with Heather and Eduardo were no “passing ships in the night” at all!  

Movies, and making movies, connect us all!!!! INTERNATIONALLY!!!! META!!!!  

….sigh…. 

That’s the thing about the far-reaching powers of the movies, and not just “Indiana Jones”: They’re magic! 

This movie story is one for the books! 

THE END