A License
So I'm down here in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania as the first assistant camera on a new History Channel pilot, and today I broke more traffic laws in a two hour stretch than I have in my entire life, at least since high school. Of course, given that all of these misdemeanors were committed for the good of the production, all of them are forgiven, and without repercussion! The only time we were ever stopped by the police was when two of the local officers noticed that we were cruising through the middle of town with the minivan's side doors wide open so the DP could shoot some driving shots. After a brief chat, we explained the nature of the production and the officers reminded us to buckle up as we drove off to break more laws.
Having the side doors open while driving and having unfastened passengers are minor details in the grand scheme of things. Next thing I know, the host of the show is on a motorcycle and we're about ten feet behind him in the minivan. I'm driving this car which, by the way, belongs to the director and MUST NOT get a scratch on it, and the DP is standing directly behind me, shooting from outside the sunroof.
I'm at the wheel of this car taking orders from the director and all sorts of things are going through my mind: Am I worried about endangering the DP and the astronomically unaffordable rental camera with the new Canon HJ14ex4.3B Wide Angle lens, which hasn't even existed for more than a month or two? Am I worried about rear-ending the shiny blue Harley we rented for the host? Am I trying to show off my commitment to the project and my driving abilities because the director and DP are in the car with me? Am I worried about my own safety?
All of the above, perhaps?
However, one of the things I'm not worried about at this point is law enforcement. I'm having too much fun, and besides, we're a production crew! I got the feeling that having all the camera gear and just carrying such entitlement gave us a license to own the roads. I felt like we could suddenly do whatever we wanted to, as long as we got the shots in the can.
Of course, just when I think I'm coasting, the DP sits back down in the backseat and rolls open the side door. Suddenly the director tells me to wait for the oncoming car lane to clear up so I can get alongside the motorcycle. A little terror, maybe some nervous laughter, but I'll admit I was grinning; I love playing England.
So we're taking up the entire span of narrow two-way roads, driving considerably faster than the speed limit. We even hit the roundabout in the center of town and did five or six laps in the busy intersection like this, but nobody said anything. As far as all the Gettysburg tourists are concerned, it's just one more out-of-the-ordinary occurrence to stop and stare and take a picture of. Then, once we've had our fun and we've all taken lots of good pictures, we'll all go on to the next sights to see, get our cameras ready, and probably forget all about just having broken at least a dozen or more traffic laws.