TWO DAYS BEFORE OSCAR (FEB. 25)
Just going to work. Get off the subway as usual. See the usual Oscar melee. Note the even more increased security than yesterday. Each one scrutinizing each person that goes by. (Good luck with that...) Pass the (on our side) black curtain hanging along this mock wall. Notice when I get to the other side that three cops are there, cause you can see through their side. Cops are talking amongst themselves about each person that goes by, noting who is a troublemaker and who isn't. (This is not even a block from getting off the subway.)
Keep trying to go to work. Take a couple of pictures, because there is some huge press conference going on. It looks like it's some kind of walk through for journalists about what to expect on Sunday. There was one guy I saw on the other side. His laminate read: "International." He looked very lost. Most people's laminates around me read: "Production." And indeed, there they are, laying cable. Putting those plastic things securely over the cable so no one trips over the cable.
This guy's putting pink, yes, pink tape at four spots along the cable line. Interesting. I would've asked him what it was for, but he looked very busy. That and two other guys were over his shoulder, observing and talking to him.
I continue, acting like I know what I'm doing (always the way to get through such situations, FYI). I make it as far as the dreaded alley (the one I walk through every single day to get to work, usually no one is there). Today in addition to their regular command post, and the massive crane trucks nearby to disturb the view, today there is a stop at the end of the way. I just knew someone would be sitting there, checking badges.
This one is a stickler, too. "I work over there." "Where?" I tell her. "What place?" I repeat it again. I even tell her the address, which I've now memorized since Monday's interrogation. She is nonplussed. She gets on her walkie. (I'm not making this up.) I tell her, "No really, the security down there knows me." I'm looking frantically for my security guy. There is a phlanx of guys in yellow coats, but I don't see Cary. She walkies. "Um, got a girl here, says she works down there."
Finally I see a security guy I know come out of the madness. I wave. Smile. He tells her it's ok, and I'm able to walk down the alley.
WHEW.
When I get to work finally and grab my morning coffee, I look out the window and see WHY they are being so crazy with the security. Picture one of those space movies where your hero is on a hill and sees nothing but blackness. Then he crests the hill, and suddenly, a whole village of activity he had no idea was there. It was like that.
All week the parking lot next to Kimmel had been mostly empty. Some activity, which I photographed. Nothing much. Holy crap. You should see it now. (I have pictures, I'll post later.) The entire nearly block-long parking lot is FILLED with TV trucks. With satellite hookups. Must be a dozen, at least. Big old generators to power them. And lots of cable going into the Kimmel building, no doubt for extra power. Unbelievable, truly.
They have their own lunch truck out there. Even a couple of star trailers. (For news anchors? Wow. Who knew?)
The Oscars, baby. Are on!
***********************************
Just going to work. Get off the subway as usual. See the usual Oscar melee. Note the even more increased security than yesterday. Each one scrutinizing each person that goes by. (Good luck with that...) Pass the (on our side) black curtain hanging along this mock wall. Notice when I get to the other side that three cops are there, cause you can see through their side. Cops are talking amongst themselves about each person that goes by, noting who is a troublemaker and who isn't. (This is not even a block from getting off the subway.)
Keep trying to go to work. Take a couple of pictures, because there is some huge press conference going on. It looks like it's some kind of walk through for journalists about what to expect on Sunday. There was one guy I saw on the other side. His laminate read: "International." He looked very lost. Most people's laminates around me read: "Production." And indeed, there they are, laying cable. Putting those plastic things securely over the cable so no one trips over the cable.
This guy's putting pink, yes, pink tape at four spots along the cable line. Interesting. I would've asked him what it was for, but he looked very busy. That and two other guys were over his shoulder, observing and talking to him.
I continue, acting like I know what I'm doing (always the way to get through such situations, FYI). I make it as far as the dreaded alley (the one I walk through every single day to get to work, usually no one is there). Today in addition to their regular command post, and the massive crane trucks nearby to disturb the view, today there is a stop at the end of the way. I just knew someone would be sitting there, checking badges.
This one is a stickler, too. "I work over there." "Where?" I tell her. "What place?" I repeat it again. I even tell her the address, which I've now memorized since Monday's interrogation. She is nonplussed. She gets on her walkie. (I'm not making this up.) I tell her, "No really, the security down there knows me." I'm looking frantically for my security guy. There is a phlanx of guys in yellow coats, but I don't see Cary. She walkies. "Um, got a girl here, says she works down there."
Finally I see a security guy I know come out of the madness. I wave. Smile. He tells her it's ok, and I'm able to walk down the alley.
WHEW.
When I get to work finally and grab my morning coffee, I look out the window and see WHY they are being so crazy with the security. Picture one of those space movies where your hero is on a hill and sees nothing but blackness. Then he crests the hill, and suddenly, a whole village of activity he had no idea was there. It was like that.
All week the parking lot next to Kimmel had been mostly empty. Some activity, which I photographed. Nothing much. Holy crap. You should see it now. (I have pictures, I'll post later.) The entire nearly block-long parking lot is FILLED with TV trucks. With satellite hookups. Must be a dozen, at least. Big old generators to power them. And lots of cable going into the Kimmel building, no doubt for extra power. Unbelievable, truly.
They have their own lunch truck out there. Even a couple of star trailers. (For news anchors? Wow. Who knew?)
The Oscars, baby. Are on!
***********************************
What a great list! Thanks so much for including Simple Bites.
ReplyDelete