Yesterday, I walked onto a Bollywood set.
On my way back from McD’s, my apartment building was lit by three lighting/grip trucks. The lights were overpowering the sun.
Later, when it started raining hard, I went down to my car to do some storage cleaning. When the elevator opened on the first floor, I noticed the entire film crew was huddled in the lobby. I called flackette. “I think they’re filming a movie in our building. The lobby looks like Bollywood.” I joked.
When I got back, unloading the car took multiple trips. On one of them, I called the elevator and an indian girl holding a clipboard and wireless microphone refused to get out. “Uhh, sorry? Is this going down?”
“Can you take the next elevator? We”re filming.” she asked.
“Oh sure.” I pressed the elevator button again. The elevator door reopened. I guess I should take the stairs.
“Wait! Come on in.” she gestured. Then, she spoke into her lapel, “We have a tenant coming down the elevator.”
I ask, “What sort of thing are you filming?”
“Bollywood. It’s an Indian film.”
“Oh! Are you filming inside the elevator?”
“Yes. That reminds me, when you might get blinded by the lights.”
I suppose I better not tell her I actually need to get to the garage. “Well, good luck then!” The elevator door opened to a pair of floodlights on me, and about a couple dozen really put off Indians.
I took the stairs down to my car, and was confronted with the obvious. How do I get back to my apartment?
I decided to take two boxes up the stairs, and take the rest up later. It was quite a workout.
The sacrifices I make in the name of Indian filmmaking!