TV. Inside out.

Sunday March 27th, Fort Worth, TX

Our final day of shooting. We had only a half a day of shooting to get through before we could officially wrap which meant an early start to the day. Our lone errand for the day was an appraisal at the Texas Pinball Festival. A massive hotel banquet hall squeezed in about 200 different pinball machines dating from the present back to the 1950’s! There was a symphony in the room- a bass line of electric humming accented by the occasional ping, shwing, booooooop, and cha-ching! We finished shooting just as the doors were opened to the public and not a moment too soon as attendees rushed into the room making a beeline for a specific machine, and the symphony grew even more intense. I’m not a pinball guy myself, but pinball love was in the air and it was showing on the players faces.

It was a mad dash to the airport for us, well not me specifically- I was enlisted to drive the Picker van to Iowa for maintenance and storage. I ran about helping crew members pack their gear, clean out vans, and download footage to get them ready to fly. We were moving quickly as boarding time was only an hour away and checking film equipment takes a good while at any airport.

I’m going to take this opportunity to say that Fort Worth’s airport has HORRIBLE traffic lanes and it was INCREDIBLY frustrating to get to the terminal we needed. Step it up Ft. Worth, just because we’re in Texas does not mean your damn roads have to be bigger. I’ll just say that I may or may not have made some illegal u-turns to get to the correct terminal and leave it at that.

Crew safely deposited at the airport, Jeremy and I headed North towards Missouri. While my Texas drive had great scenery this drive to Iowa had no real points of interest. The one stand out was what looked like a poorly homemade sign for a strip club in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma. I can neither confirm nor deny that the wind comes sweeping down the plain.

We spent the night in Kansas City, it was a quiet place as the KSU Jayhawks were bounced from the tournament earlier that night. Jeremy and I consoled the final mourners at a local pub while we dined and warmed against the blizzard outside.

80 degrees to this in a matter of 9 hours. Color me weathered out.

Le Clare, Iowa is a quaint river town with a single main street. Dotted with shops and a distillery (?), the city’s claim to fame is Picker Mike Wolfe’s Antique Archaeology. This is where Mike sells all of the items he picked up while shooting. Jeremy and I began unloading his purchases on Monday morning and word had already got around that Mike was back with new stuff, there was a steady flow all morning of inquisitive pickers and fans trying to get a look at what was coming up on the show. 

Our picks unloaded and our vans stored, it was finally time to head home. I had a layover in Atlanta and I parted ways with Jeremy there as he continued to Florida. Jeremy was a my biggest gain on this adventure. He was very welcoming to me as a new crew member and was instrumental in helping me adjust to the work. A great drinking buddy to boot, I have made a good friend. I look forward to cruising the U.S interstates with him for months to come.

As I flew over Manhattan and stared down at the lights, it was a great feeling to be back in familiar territory. My own bed never felt so good.

Back and well in New York, I’ve been decompressing for the past week. I last posted in the thick of the shooting block as the job became a methodical machine of productivity for a solid 12 hours a day. Until of course we got to our hotel and the machine became a mass of bodies at the hotel bar as we scarfed down dinner and washed it down with water, wine, and beer.

Kind of a pattern- work, eat, drink, sleep when it comes, then repeat. Now that I’m back home the first thing I’ve done is leave all those habits on the road. It’s a way of living that can easily descend into unhealthy choices not only in diet, but also in other means of self indulgence that appeal to the individual. Right now I’m trying to build healthy habits I can maintain while on the road- getting exercise, body rolling (I got my first yoga mat!), and good eating choices. Texas was tough with their chicken fried EVERYTHING. It was great to get a salad and not have someone be astonished at my choice of greens for an entree. I don’t know what Michigan is all about in terms of cuisine, but I’m thinking their seafood could be good?

Anyone have some intel on Michigan?

As kind of a wrap up on my first block on “Pickers” I have a few random photos I think you’ll appreciate-

Original Coca Cola advertising ploy- Still effective to this day

Sound Guy Luciano makes friends everywhere

Armadillo. ‘Nuff said.

Quite possibly the creepiest doll I have EVER seen

Hotel room view at sunset- Dallas, TX

Apparently Bell Telephone thought Coke had the right idea…

Coolest bunch of kids, they waited 4 hours for us to finish shooting before the Picker’s invited them over for pictures and autographs. Side note- I have become the unofficial Pickers fan picture-taker. Side-side note- the tallest brunette is the mother of all these children.

His name is Bentley and he stopped production for a solid 20 minutes

The mighty Mississippi flowed right by my hotel in Iowa

Cool looking

Also cool looking.

As of this writing I have 1 week before I head back to Iowa for our Michigan adventure. The first block on “Pickers” was tough, grueling, rewarding, and full of growth- and I might be addicted to the grind. There’s an intense feeling of accomplishment I get every day driving back to our hotel. Every day is a challenge- to be able to say I went out there and met those trials with everything I had and helped make it a good day for everyone is what gets me up the next day. Because every day is another chance to prove myself.

See you in the Motor City!

e.

Day 5 to Day 10.
5:30 am. An hour of the day I have become grudgingly familiar with. Stinging eyes and sore knees? Nothing a shower and a pop of advil can’t fix. Stale processed hotel food on the menu? Cliff bars and some fruit instead. Maybe some Bon Iver on the ipod for the precious 30 minutes I have to myself before we launch into our day.

Stepping out into the cool morning air sobers you right up, a cup of weak coffee in hand and the day begins. Dig the earpiece into your ear and click on the walkie- “Walkie check?” “Good check” comes the response. That is the tv equivalent of clocking in, you’re on production time now. Load up the vans with gear and luggage, make sure the coolers are well stocked for the day, and stand in on the morning meeting.
30 minutes after clocking in we’re on the road caravaning to our location for the day. The routine part of my day is almost over, it’s time to clear the head and shake the sleep from my eyes. At first it was all very overwhelming- as soon as the cameras roll the Pickers take off like kids given permission to rush the christmas tree. There’s no rhyme or reason to their approach, they go after what catches their eye first and it’s off to the races.
After a 5 furious hours of filming we stop for lunch and I take my second deep breath of the day; an hour of respite to gather my thoughts and fight off the post lunch drowsiness with a 20 minute power nap. My petitions for crew naptime are still being ignored. Always sooner than I’d like we’re back in the thick of creating the show and 7 hours later we arrive back at the hotel for the evening constitutional of supper and booze which leads back to that deep sleep that is always interrupted far to soon.
This is an general walk through of a typical day on “Pickers”. It’s very easy to focus purely on the bullet points I’ve listed above, to remove yourself from the day and become an instrument of the job you’ve been hired to do. Do this and the days all blend together into a haze of memories in the sun. After a full week in Texas, I’ve found what makes each day unique, not just for the show but for me as I build my own collage of memories.

This is a show that centers around two men who make their living rummaging through junk and collections to find gems of monetary and historical value. It’s the treasure hunt for that one item that will blow audiences away, an item that impresses not only in it’s value but also in it’s historical, cultural, or personal significance. It would be simple for our show to make this hunt the focal point of our presentation, who doesn’t love the thrill of the hunt? The quest for buried treasure? But what I’ve realized is that the heart of this show isn’t about what the two men are looking for, but the people who own the treasures they find. All of the people we have visited over the past week have enormous collections of materials ranging from the everyday, to the atypical to the bizzare. What means the most to the hosts of the show and myself, is the story of how these people came to collect.

Like the woman who collects only items from carnivals because her Dad took her to to one every month when she was young.

And somehow found time to become a weekend offroad racer.

Or the man who continues to care for his fathers collections of coin operated machines because it was his fathers love of these machines that helped him come from poverty to a successful business man.

Or a man clinging to the last mementos of a glorious country singing career. No pictures for discretion purposes.

Or a man with a long career on the open road as a truck driver led to him collecting and restoring classic cars to their former glory.

Or the man who worked from age 8 to 14 to save enough money to buy that motor scooter he yearned for.

Or the man who enjoys his job so much that he has dedicated himself to preserving the history of his industry.

These are the stories that hold the character of the show. It is finding what truly drives these people to collect, hoard, or hold onto what is precious to them as individuals. If we can continue to make sure that these stories are brought to the surface, I know we can continue to connect with all those people who keep coming back for more.

Also, motorcycles are cool.

Day 4.

A lot can happen to a man in 24 hours. One morning he will leave his bed with every good intention in the world, to find himself laying his head on the pillow with nothing but contempt for what he has done that day. The next morning he will begin with contemplation and dread to end with a complete sense of euphoria that sends waves of excitement through his core. Day 4 of my work on American Pickers was not a day of euphoria or contempt, but rather a feeling of decisive purpose. Too long I had let my extraneous worries cloud my direction. I felt a need for a change and it had been sated. I have been neutral towards change, always choosing to let it take its course without giving the gentlest push towards deterring our encouraging it’s coming. Rather than accept what circumstances had been thrust on me, I chose to make the conditions my own.

At 2pm (Eastern time sans daylight savings time because Arizona thinks it’s a special state that doesn’t need to adhere to what nearly every other state is doing…) I climbed into a van and began a 22 hour drive from Phoenix, Arizona to Housten, Texas. I stated in an earlier post that I had seen a natural beauty in the land of cowboys, this time around I saw it all the more clearly. With the constant rumble of the van as my background music I sped through the wide open plains and rocky outcroppings of Arizona, Hell bent on reaching Texas before nightfall. Just before sundown, I stopped to capture a bit on the landscape-

This is Jeremy, my P.A. counterpart on “Pickers” and the man in charge of driving the massive RV we cart around everywhere.

If you can ignore the fence in the photos you’ll see what I mean about the landscape. Dusk was a beautiful sight.

Long after dark I crossed the border into Texas. It was easy to tell where I was by the massive pillars with stars on them proclaiming “Welcome to Texas”. Soon I found myself cruising through El Paso at 12:30 am. Jeremy and I had a plan, drive until we can’t drive anymore. Since our caffeine intake had been so high that day we plowed on leaving the lights and beckoning Holiday Inn signs to hit the I-10 E towards San Antonio.

About an hour later we hit a border patrol station on the highway. Jeremy went through quickly enough and I rolled up to greet the stern looking patrolmen and their furry sniffing friend. It was 1:30 in the morning and I expected the full shakedown. Two twenty somethings driving large vehicles this close the the border? The patrolmen stepped up to my window and broke into large grins. “Where are Mike and Frank?” they asked me. Apparently they were fans. Being border patrolmen they used their position of power to check out the back of the van, they were really interested in getting a behind the scenes look at what the show had been up to.

Leaving the cell phone snapping patrolmen in the dust, Jeremy and I continued. We reached Stockton, Texas at 3:45am. This was the end of the road for the day. I threw my head down on a stiff pillow and immediately passed out. Far too soon my alarm screeched me awake at 8:45am.

I was alone this day, Jeremy couldn’t sleep so after 2 hours of tossing and turning he decided to get back on the road. It was comforting having the RV in front of me, but I was going at my own pace now- free to take my my own time and methods to get to Houston.

The morning was overcast and gloomy. The landscape I had enjoyed the day before had turned to flat plains and picnic stops. I myself was gloomy. I was tired, cranky, and had shit coffee from the hotel. When a man is left to himself without any distractions, the first place he will go is inward. Too much time left to himself and he will explode outward. I was a tad lonely on that road. No sun, no good tunes on the radio, and certainly no good conversation when you only have yourself to talk to.

4 hours passed before the sun came out and I had reached a town called Fredricksburg. Creeping along at 30 MPH through the town only made me more moody. I just wanted to finish the drive. I had a bit of fun stopping for gas though, a bunch of “Pickers” fans had spotted the van and had actually followed me to the gas station to see if Mike & Frank were driving. There was some noticeable dissapointment when an unshaven, squinty eyed guy slide out of the car. But they got their pictures and tweets off so everyone is happy no?

It took another 4 hours of driving before I finally reached Houston. At almost exatcly 5pm I stumbled out of the van and stretched mightily. It took 19 1/2 hours and 3 1/2 hours of sleep, but I had made it safe and sound.

Worth it.

e.

Day 3.

This guys first pick was a doozy. We visited a gentleman who bragged his collection of antiquities was the largest in the state of Arizona. Smitty was his name and he had been pickn’ and collecting his entire life and as a result he had a whopping 6 acres of items!

And one rejected model of the Big Boy Restaurant mascot.

The boy’s dived right into the mess and there was a lot to go through. Anything you can possibly imagine this guy had in droves. Slot machines, dolls, models, cars, signs, cutlery, toys, the list was endless. He claimed he had over 10’00 different items on his property!

The crew reaction to hearing 10’000 items to go through.

For the first half of the day our hosts made it through just one of four buildings containing stuff. They saw a few things they liked but the man had been running this giant antique shop for nearly 25 years, most of the good stuff had already been picked.

After a full eight hours of pickn’ and siftn’ we had a few cool items we walked away with, after intense negotiations of course! I was scribbling furiously to keep up with the offers and counter offers.

Probably won’t fit in the van anyway…

I learned a lot about how to approach my job on this day. The attention to detail was even more rigorous than I had anticipated, not one nuance of the day could be overlooked in order maintain the story’s continuity and progression.

Crew members gathered later that night to celebrate our first pick (and late call time) with whiskey and a hot tub. It was a great opportunity to probe the minds of the senior crew members about the show and to get more insight into how this massive machine is run. As this show is in it’s third season now (6.5 million viewers weekly!) there is a level of intensity to every pick to maintain the level of quality the viewers have come to be used to.

No pressure.

More to come!

Day 2.

It is written that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I am a firm believer of this mantra and I’m trying to maintain a solid diet while I’m out on the road. It’s not a difficult task as long as I can make good eating choices and have the quality foods available. Exhibit A

Yellow rubber I tell you. Hotel breakfasts aren’t fit for pigeons, it’s granola bars and an apple for me.

Friday marked my first shooting day on American Pickers. I spent the majority of the day helping to prep the picture vehicles and gear for our afternoon shoot.

Behold our fleet!

We shot some pickups for a couple episodes in the afternoon, and I got to know the hosts of the show Mike and Frank. It was my first taste of what my job would be like, and I was learning quickly just how detail oriented it really is. As “Story P.A” my responsibility was to oversee the story of each “pick” we make. For the non American Pickers watchers (Start watching obviously…) a “pick” is when Mike and Frank roll up on some junkyard or collectors establishment (we call them “contributors” and they pick through all of the stuff to find items they believe they can restore and sell for a profit.

While these guys are running rampant it’s my job to maintain notes of everything they show interest in, what offers they make, and how much a piece is sold for. Along with camera notes for post production and jotting down any tidbits of information about the items, the pick’in spot, and the contributors themselves. It’s a solid challenge to keep up with all this in real time, and there is a real chance of me developing carpal tunnel before these two weeks are up.

More on my first pick soon!

Day 1. My alarm screeched at 5:00 am. My mind did a little somersault as it grasped exactly what was in store for me that day. I was to jump on a flight in just over two hours, fly 5 hours to Las Vegas, pick up a laptop at the Venetian Hotel, then pick up an RV, and drive said RV 5 hours to Phoenix, Arizona. Not your average commute eh? Eh, I can sleep for another 10 minutes. Snooze button hit. 10 minutes later, just when I reached that point of deep slumber, I jerked awake to that god awful beeping. One numbingly quick shower later I was walking out the door to a waiting cab at precisely 5:40 am. So far so good!

This is how I started my job on American Pickers.

JFK was substantially more awake than I, luckily my concierge did all the work for me as I was in no state to provide any details other than “Vegas. One please”. The flight was pleasant enough, I think I only snored out loud once (it jerked me awake…) and managed to sleep through most of the journey. I awoke to 80 degrees and balmy on the Vegas strip!

A jovial cabbie swooped me into his car and we motored down the highway towards Sin City. The Luxor, The Bellagio, MGM Grand, all towering testaments to complete and total self indulgence. Flashing lights, zings, zaps, and bells. Full stimulation every you looked! And I was in the middle of it all to find a laptop. Slightly cruel.

Walking the proverbial “straight and narrow” I blazed passed the slot machines (Sex and the City themed? You could score Mr. BIG!…never mind) to the lost and found desk and demanded the laptop I was looking for! I was promptly told it was not gonna happen, apparently there’s a lot of security in Vegas around lost belongings and what not. After spending an hour trying to weasel my way around the required paperwork (And enduring the alluring Sex and the City slot machine’s advances) I left the Venetian without losing a penny, but without my prize. I vowed revenge and went to go see a man about a RV…

Now I’ve never driven and RV before in my life. Sure I’ve driven my share of 15 passenger vans, but a house on wheels is a horse of a different color. I was shown the ways of the RV by a elderly gent named Shelton. He had a very distinct look about him that made me sure he had all kinds of RV wisdom to bestow on me. We rolled up in front of my “FreeLander” and Shelton paused for a second, looked at me and said….”Well, there yah go”. Thus I began my 5 hour road trip to Phoenix, Arizona.

I had fair winds and beautiful scenery to accompany me as I crossed the border in Arizona. As I cruised past the Hoover Dam I couldn’t help but think that I had found the part of America that was truly beautiful, the part of America that Katherine Bates saw. And I drank it all in. Towering cliffs and valleys escorted me all the way down to the Arizona desert where things became frankly boring. Not that I have anything against Arizona, it’s just…flat. One thing I’ve learned about Arizona tho, they love their beef jerkey. I think I saw about 8 different joints claiming to have the best jerkey around. I won’t lie and say I didn’t want to stop and get myself some dried dead animal, I had a job to do- I cranked the ZZ Top, took a swig of coffee, and hit the gas.

5 hours of rumbling and bumping later I pulled into our hotel in Phoenix. I was greeted by Bengt, Sundah, and Jeff- Director, Assistant Director, and Producer respectively. They congratulated me on making it to Phoenix and had me check in right away so I could join them for dinner. Where was dinner you ask? In N’ Out Burger.
I’ve been hearing about this In N’ Out Burger from all those stuck up California-nites I’ve met over the years…claiming that In N’ Out beats out my beloved Five Guy’s….Who the hell do they think they are?? I had a score to settle. Here is my review-

“Nah”

It was good, pretty delicious actually, but the burger wouldn’t have filled up a super model. And the fries? A joke in comparison to those succulent Cajun fries Five Guy’s has to offer. Nice try In N’ Out, but my allegiance will not waver that easily.

After our meat-tastic feast we called it a night. As I walked to my room Jeff called out to me “Oh hey, so you know you’re driving the RV on Sunday right?” Sure I said, but where?

Texas.