One Year of Reality and How It Nearly Killed Me: My Life Behind the Scenes (11 page)

After the stint with the camel, we walked back to the square and to our hotel. On the way back, I noticed that some of the contestants were starting to look unhappy. I could tell that one of the contestants
in particular seemed down, and was hanging back from the rest of the group. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I tried to wait for him. But he refused to be engaged in conversation, and I finally let him alone. I could tell he didn’t want to be there, and eventually was eliminated with his partner. A lot of school children were looking at us as we went, since we must have made for a strange sight. We waved and smiled and made it back to the hotel. Those men were still hanging out there. That was creeping me out more than anything. Didn’t they have jobs? What are they, some type of Tunisian mafia? Do they have to hang around here all the time? They would stop talking and just sit there and stare, like zombies, as I went to my room. It was pretty creepy.

I was starting to get stressed out again.

I received a phone call from one of the producers a little later. “Did you give the contestants camel rides?” he asked.

“Well, yes. There was a camel in the parking lot, and we were killing time.”

“Well that was something we were going to do tomorrow, and it was supposed to be a surprise.” He wasn’t very happy. I defended myself. “Well, I didn’t
know that; I’m not with you guys, so I’m not up to date with what’s being planned.”

Still, I felt awful about making such a screw up. Later that night, I met with a couple of the producers in my room. They told me they needed me to check in the first teams really early in the morning. I would be picked up at the hotel at 2:30 a.m., taken to the Coliseum, and then a van would take me to the next location. One of the producers got a call while he was with me and had to head straight to the next location for the following day. He was at my hotel, not his, which was really far away. He didn’t have a change of clothes with him, so I gave him a shirt and jacket, assuring him that they were men’s clothes. He took them and thanked me. I didn’t see him again until we reached the next country.

I was feeling stressed and bummed that I had to be up so early, which meant I wouldn’t get any sleep because I had to call into the office that night and come up with the usual travel options. I walked out into the courtyard to see the staring men and a few of the contestants hanging out. I sat down with a couple of them, who asked me how I was doing.

I made the mistake of answering them.

“I’ll be fine once we’re in Italy.” It was an off-the-cuff, conversational remark that instantly sent cold spikes up and down my spine. I could tell that I was turning red, and I felt my eyes fill up with tears. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that. Please don’t say anything, please don’t say anything,” I begged them. “I could lose my job.” They promised they wouldn’t, and they acted like they didn’t know what I was talking about. I didn’t want to repeat myself. All I said was, “Never mind,” and went back to my room. I told one of the producers what had happened, and he said, “It happens, you’re not the only one.” So I felt better. I hadn’t given away the show; they just knew I was stressing, and they felt bad for me.

I was so bothered by my comment, which made me really wish that I didn’t have to hang around the contestants, but it was my job and I needed to focus on doing it well.

That’s what mistakes do. They wake you up to your faults, and you either resolve to do better or you crumble under the pressure. Somehow I did both. I felt a little crumbling, but wanted to do a good job. Again, the fear of the show going into the toilet because of something I had done was real for me, and I edged a little closer to it.

I packed myself up and checked out of the hotel at 2:30 a.m. Again, the guys were hanging out and staring. Now it didn’t sit well with me. But I was dressed in the same outfit that I had worn for the last couple of days. I walked out of the hotel to get picked up by the van. And I waited for a while.

No van.

I decided to walk to the location. I didn’t have time to figure out where the van was or why it hadn’t arrived. My cell phone was dead anyway, since I had been using it to talk to the office. So I couldn’t reach anyone. Since the contestants and I had walked over to the Coliseum the previous day, it wouldn’t take long to get there, right? It was under a mile.

But it was very dark. There weren’t street lights like we have street lights, and the road was made of cobblestones or something really bumpy and uneven. And I didn’t want to walk near any alleyways in case there were some not-so-nice guys who were hanging out, waiting for someone like me to show up. So I walked down the middle of the street. If there was going to be a car, I would at least see it and get out of the way, but I wouldn’t make it easy for someone to whisk me into a room or be kidnapped. I was really feeling scared. But I just kept pushing
forward. It was very quiet, save for my rolling suitcase maneuvering over all the bumps in the road.

And then I noticed that there were people following me. It was the first time I had really felt that I had made a mistake. I should have waited for the van or figured something else out; I should
not
have gone on by myself. I really thought that since I was being followed, it was a matter of time before someone would overtake and attack me. I remembered seeing a guy in a brown “friar” outfit. I couldn’t see his face, but he got up from the sidewalk and started following me. My heart was pounding in my throat, and since it was hard to see, I couldn’t tell how close I was to the Coliseum, where the race would start up again. I felt that the “friar” guy would probably be okay—after all, he was probably a good guy if he was a friar. But I still walked as fast as I could. The cobblestones were uneven, I didn’t want to fall, and dragging my luggage as well as carrying my computer and the trash from the show was getting to be burdensome.

Then I finally saw the Coliseum, and I knew I was safe. There were a few people milling about. The art director, Greg, and a few worker bees were setting up shop. Just as I arrived at the Coliseum, I finally tripped and fell. I twisted my ankle and hurt
my knee, but I was more embarrassed than in pain. After that, I limped around to see if anyone needed me to do anything. There was nothing for me to do. I was a little mad that I had been told to get up so early if there was no need for it. I found out later that “friar” guy was one of the security guys who’d picked up on the fact that I was walking alone. So in a weird way my instincts had been correct.

Well, soon the contestants were off, the crews with them, and I was on my way to the next hotel. It was a long drive through the desert and I would see an occasional sign. And then I saw a sign for “Tatooine” and couldn’t believe it. It finally hit me where I had heard the town El Jem and now Tatooine. It was from Star Wars. I wasn’t sure which came first, the name of the town or the movie. It made me smile to think about it. I did not have the benefit of a working cell phone because it was dead, so the only way that anyone could get a hold of me would be through the hotel phone. During the ride I learned that the contestants were off to an oasis, where they would spend the night camping. And some press would be at that location; the network had invited them as a way to promote the show. I wondered if they’d been asked to sign confidentiality agreements too. The crew would be going to the hotel at the end of shooting, and then the next stop was Italy.

I had been out of touch with the producers while I was babysitting with the contestants, so I wasn’t sure what was happening, where I was supposed to be, or what I was supposed to do. But since I had ended up at the hotel, I figured I would set up my little office, make sure that the crew had rooms, and wait for a call or some information. I was the only person from the American crew hanging out at the hotel. It was a beautiful place with a swimming pool. I wished I had some time to enjoy the moment and go for a swim. I decided to take at least some advantage of the downtime and go to the café to get some food. When I entered the café, I saw many members of the Tunisian crew, including a couple of guys who I figured were in charge. Jared was off on the shoot, and couldn’t translate for me, so for a while, all I heard was French Arabic, which I couldn’t understand at all. But I still hung out with the staff, trying to get an idea of what they were saying. They were laughing and having a good time. By then, I was sitting at their table and eating with them. I still didn’t understand a word they were saying, but I smiled when they smiled and chuckled when they laughed. And then their conversation changed, something was happening. It appeared to be a big deal because it was getting dark. Now, even though I didn’t speak their language, I could tell something was wrong. A couple of guys were on their cell phones but they
didn’t appear to be panicked, but their voices were very serious.

As I ate with the crew, a girl came up and sat with us. It turned out that she was the daughter of the Tunisian facilitator who was with us, and she was studying at a Los Angeles College. She just happened to be home while we were filming. It was great to finally meet someone who spoke English; the crew was nice to me, but they just didn’t know how to talk to me. I asked her to fill me in on what was going on. She told me that one of the contestant teams were lost, meaning that they hadn’t returned to the finish line in a timely fashion. So Bert had hopped into a car and was driving around to try and find the contestants. That seemed pretty bad given the fact the press was there and I’m sure Bert wanted to find them so it looked good to the press. I had to keep believing that we would all make it to Italy okay the next day.

Everything turned out fine. The contestants finally arrived at the location, and Bert made it to the hotel, although he was very upset about what had happened. But the team was found, Bert was found and we could move on.

It was morning and the crews and contestants were moving forward. I was waiting for the producers
and the second unit crews to arrive and get them on the plane. There was a flurry of activity. There was a lot of equipment and luggage and people to manage. Thank goodness I didn’t have to do that. All I had to do was try to get better deals on excess baggage and arrange tickets for the crew members who didn’t have them. Our travel agent couldn’t get every ticket done in advance, and often I would arrange to pick up the tickets myself and pass them out to the crew, which is what I did this time.

The crew was always sleep deprived, but they still seemed pretty cheery. Tired, but doing their thing. I had a deep respect for that. There were a couple of second unit crew members whom I had grown to appreciate, and I looked forward to seeing them. The sound guy always had a great joke to tell me, which was a highlight to my day. But my nerves would always do flips when Bert would walk into my world in the airport. I was always nervous that he was watching me, wanting to criticize or intervene for me. I would wait until he got his ticket and took care of himself before I took care of the crew. When all of the crew members had their tickets and were heading to the gate, it was time for me to get my own ticket. (I had to buy all my tickets along the way since I didn’t know when or where I’d be going.) But this flight happened to be full. Again, I gave some big
teary eyes and waited while the ticket person helped others. I made a real nuisance of myself. I could tell because the ticket guy kept staring at me and nodding his head. I begged for a ticket and finally he let me have one, and I raced through customs and got onto the plane.

We were on our way to Italy.

CHAPTER 6

FINALLY! HOME!

T
he plane to Italy did not have a first class section. And this was very disconcerting to Bert, who hated for anyone to be around him, particularly us minions. I can say this with confidence as I have organized and booked many flights for him, and I know what he wants and if he ever got the wrong seat assignment (whether I had control over that or not), it was a bad day with one angry producer. And I knew how he felt about his place in the world. It wasn’t that he didn’t respect his crew or appreciate them—he just felt he deserved to be in a better class. And he’s not alone, all producers and executives are the same. I’ve had bosses who were quite frankly a pain in the $%@ when it came to airline reservations. It could take anywhere from a couple
of days to a week to make one reservation, as they’d nitpick over which airline to take, when, what seat they wanted, and more.

No matter what I booked, it was never right.

Flying to Rome was no exception, even though I hadn’t booked Bert’s ticket on this particular trip. My stomach was in knots the whole time because I knew that he was upset since I was sitting behind him. I could sense it the entire flight. So I was grateful that we finally landed and he could focus on the race in Italy and not who was sitting where on the plane. And I was glad to be in Rome. It was really hot, a dry heat that really made me sweat, along with everyone else around me.

Of course, the moment I let my guard down and began to take a moment to relax, I felt my hand start to throb again, and I realized I didn’t feel so great. My adrenaline had finally subsided enough for me to begin to sense pain in my body. When I got to the hotel, I had to go to work right away. But I was feeling really sick and dizzy, so I called the hotel doctor first. I had never heard of a hotel doctor until I called the hotel and told them I was getting sick. Within the hour, the doctor was by my side, and he checked me out and gave me a prescription for
nausea medication. I don’t know what his diagnosis was, but I was glad to get some kind of relief. I did have to venture out to the Pharmacia and pick up the prescription, but that was no problem, and it is much easier than it would have been here in the States. I didn’t tell anyone about my illness, figuring it was probably from all the stress, and the lack of sleep and food.

When I returned to the hotel, I had to get back to the visas. I did not have a visa for the next country, India, and more importantly, there had been a paper screw up and the South African crew needed visas too, as did two other crew members who had been added on at the last minute including Alison. So I had arranged to go to the Indian Embassy in Rome to get the visas. I had very little expectation of even getting mine, since it had taken us a full six weeks to get visas for the other crew members. I was going to try to get the rest of us into the country as visitors; that way, it would hopefully take less time. Now remember, this was before 9/11, so it was a lot easier to try and push the envelope. I don’t think I would attempt most of the things I did overseas after 9/11, but at this point I had nothing to fear except the wrath of Bert and an entire network. In my deluded, workaholic haze, I had decided it would be better to get arrested and thrown into an international prison
than to endure a very ugly dressing down and firing for stalling the race.