Probably 10 years ago, I was approached by a location scout as I sat by my pond, and he asked me if I was interested in having Villa Wifey used for a shoot for the then hit show "Burn Notice." I was, and was so excited about it, didn't even negotiate the $4k they offered for the day -- all of it outside. I later learned they'd have paid double, but it was so fun I didn't much care.
They also paid our across the street neighbors Bob and Elizabeth to use their yard for parking, and on the day of the shoot it was something to see. A scene involving a brown van crashing through our front gates, that was on the episode for all of 20 seconds, took an entire day to shoot, with a crew of more than 50 people. D1 was in grad school, and she came by to watch, and they send us a DVD of the episode. Very cool. I hoped they would ask again, and they didn't.
A few years later I got a call from another location scout, referred by the Burn Notice guy. They offered $10K to use our pool, but it was for a hard core porn shoot, and I politely declined. I'm no prude, but didn't want my house so memorialized. Maybe that's why we haven't got more offers.
Anyway -- our neighbor Denie hit the location lottery for today -- a very huge commercial is being shot at her house, inside, and though the star is supposed to be a secret, we learned it's an NFL wide receiver who goes by ODB. We all got an email blast telling us about the event, though Denie lives in the far corner of our 'hood and typically only people who live in those 4 houses would be affected. EXCEPT...
I was walking with my neighbor Ellen today, and she shared the chisme. Every neighborhood has its asshole, most have their bitches, and we have a bona fide, everyone agrees, See You Next Tuesday. I'll say her name rhymes with Rita, but with a different middle consonant, and she is indeed a piece of work.
She lives next to a dead end street that used to be an entrance to our 'hood off busy 136/Old Cutler. Before we moved in, the entrance was cut off, as people would use it to shortcut to Ludlam, and speed through. But the no longer used street, which is now mostly grass, is state property. Rita, and her husband, who I'll call Ray, since his name rhymes with that but with a different first consonant, treat the area as if they own it. They clearly do NOT.
Anyway, the location manager, a lovely Venezuelan who I met named Madeline, knocked on Rita and Ray's door, told them she knew the land was state owned, but as a courtesy was letting them know there would be vehicles parked there for the day. Rita and Ray erupted -- claiming it was THEIR property, and they would call police, the FBI, the CIA, the Mafia, and a strike force from Homestead Air Force Reserve Base if anyone DARED to park there.
Madeline begged off, since getting a state permit to park a few vans was onerous. Ellen told me the tale as I walked past the See You Next Tuesday's house, and sure enough, they had dragged a fallen tree branch across the area, lest someone try to park there.
As a concerned Floridian, wishing to keep state roads and former roads clear, I dragged the limb away. It let me burn off my anger at these 2 creeps who are an embarrassment to the 'hood.
We walked the 3 houses down, and Ellen introduced me to Madeline. She was so nice, and I assured her that we are proud of our neighborhood, pride ourselves on being friendly, and was sorry about her experience with Rita and Ray. She and Ellen started laughing --they had already labeled Rita a Venezuelan Spanish version of See You Next Tuesday -- and Madeline gave me her card.
I would love it if we got another film shoot -- and our surrounding neighbors would welcome it, too.
I truly don't understand people who live in a house probably now worth north of $2.5M, that they paid less than $1M for, with 3 adult kids who are all apparently doing very well, and yet remain fully miserable assholes. They truly only seem to get happiness bullying others over stupid stuff.
Well, as the old cliche goes, the show must go on, and indeed it is. I just walked past, and the location is a hive of activity. I asked the friendly young Pinecrest cop if ODB was there yet -- he had no idea who or what was being filmed, but quickly told me he was a huge football fan and would be asking for an autograph.
The neighbors across the street, newly moved in, were outside, with their toddler and gorgeous baby girl. One of the grips had the toddler moving little traffic cones "to help out the production." My grandson would have been in heaven had he been over. And the little baby girl? I'm already talking with the parents about a possible fix up in years to come with one of my grandkids.
I guess I ought to just ignore the miserable people. I have zero doubt Riv, um Rita is inside her house, looking intently at her security cameras and making sure no one trespasses on her falsely claimed property.
Whatever. Karens are one thing. We have a universally acclaimed See You Next Tuesday. Maybe my neighborhood ought to feel proud.
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