-Is there a refrigerator in my room? NO. a coffee machine? YES. microwave? NO.
-I know I'll be coming back to Brooklyn some weekends, but what season do I pack for right now? I PACKED A LITTLE OF EVERYTHING. IT SEEMS THAT LAYERS WILL START AND END THE DAYS
-Should I bring my golf clubs? YES, OF COURSE.
-The nearest big book store is 30 miles away. Should I stop and stock up on the way? IT TOOK ME OVER AN HOUR JUST TO GET OUT OF NYC. I'LL LET AMAZON DELIVER.
-Are crepuscular animals just too damned lazy to do stuff for an entire half of a day? I STILL DON'T KNOW. I'M OPEN TO SUGGESTIONS.
So, I've now met a bunch of the people working on this show and everyone seems completely sane and nice and filled with clues (you know...the opposite of clueless). But that's not the important part of the day.
Late this afternoon, I decided to run over to our hotel and get checked in. I had a little bit of time before a meeting and it's always nice to find these things in daylight and get your piles of crap moved in. The hotel where we're all staying is one of those semi-massive Catskills Resorts. I walked into the lobby (picture 6 football fields laid out in a 3 X 2 pattern). There's a front desk running down one side with space for...oh, 15 people to be serving guests as they check in. This vast expanse of potential customer service is manned...by one man. He is, of course, at the furthest possible station from the front door. Apart from myself and this one hotel employee, the lobby is utterly devoid of humanity. It is empty. There are lots of intimate little seating areas composed of comfortable looking couches and easy chairs. They await the hordes of guests who are notable by their absence.
As I make my way (GPS assisted) to the furthest reaches of the lobby, the man at the desk is careful to avoid looking up and noticing me before I actually arrive. It might be uncomfortable for him if he has to watch me make the entire trek. I arrive and find myself confronted by this man.
OK, it's not really him, but he's trying his damndest. As I'm checking in, I am told that there isn't such a thing as a smoking room, and "No, you can't have one of the rooms with a balcony!"
I'll make this part short. If I were staying somewhere for a few days, I'd make do. Life's a bitch. But, I'm supposed to be living here for the next 8 weeks or so! There will be some Saturday (when I'm supposed to be off), during which the entire world will be going down the crapper and I'll need to spend the day in my room on the phone and on my computer to try to fix everything so we'll be able to shoot on Monday, and I damned well better be able to chain-smoke while I'm doing it!
Adam Wanna-be Lambert MoFo has an extremely limited vocabulary consisting of "No". No, I can't have any room other than the one he's trying to give me -- a room which is an elevator ride and a 10 furlong walk from the nearest exit where I can go to smoke. No, he has no other ideas. No, I can't speak with a Manager because she's only going to tell me the same thing. I very kindly inform him that I'd prefer to hear "No", from someone who has the authority to say "Yes". Asshole!
Ultimately, the manager found me a room that's actually only a city block or so from an exterior door. She was nice about the whole thing. But, the rooms here really aren't all that great. I'll be looking into finding a nearby dump that doesn't try to masquerade as something other than a dump. I'd rather be comfortable. And smoke. In my room. In my underwear even!
In the meantime, I explored the place a little tonight. There's still nobody here but me and Adam Lambert. Maybe he's pulling a double? I swear, from the outside, you don't see any room lights turned on. There are a bunch of shops and restaurant-type things off of the lobby and they're all locked up tight with the lights off.
I think I'll go take that walk now to my own private smoking patio (comfortably chilled to 42º). I fully expect to see these girls on my way there. And then, I'll introduce them to Adam!