The theme of my Charleston weekend is to face my fears. One biggie is getting on a horse. I’m only scared to get on a horse when I am on camera. Unfortunately that seems to be the only time I get on a horse. Horses don’t understand “takes,” they can become very jumpy when a camera is angled towards them and they definitely don’t like any fast and sudden movements which is exactly how a shooting crew has to move in order to capture the horses. So there’s a lot of conflict of interest.
We are at Middleton Place Hounds to shoot a Drag Hunt which is exactly like a fox hunt but no killing of a fox. I would absolutely refuse to do something like that. Drag refers to the fact that a scent is dragged thru the countryside and the hounds simply chase the scent. Much better.
Before I even get on a horse I am introduced to a nice young lady who immediately asks me to sign an insurance release. Now I am a bit fearful. As soon as I get on the horse, who was picked because it’s “a total sweetheart” (I have found all horse owners are like parents who think their children are the most well behaved), Dave on sound picks up the boom mic abruptly which sends the horse up on its hind legs … with me on it. Right now I am in the saddle of my fears.
I have never taken a drink on camera for my nerves but when I saw they were passing around Sherry, I downed it like it was a shot of tequila. A very nice gentleman sees how I am holding my reigns and tells me that if perchance I should fall off the horse (say when it rears up after having seen a boom mic) that my hands would become tangled and I would be dragged along side the charging horse. Is there any more sherry?
The drag hunt is over and it was a lot of fun but now I am dripping in sweat and my hair having been under a helmet would make medusa turn to stone. Its 6:20 and I have to be showered, made-up, hair redone and at a dance class learning the Charleston by 7pm. Uh oh.
Early in the morning I am training with the cadets at The Citadel. Just set my alarm for 3:15am. Ouch. I am still on Santa Barbara time. Double ouch. The U.S. Army on Jet Lag, should be fun.
Just trained with the army can barely pick up my blackberry and too tired to type. I am proud of myself because I pretty much kept up with the grueling calisthenics. It was the 2.5-mile run at 5:30 that really did me in. I kept thinking this work out would be so much easier with my Dance hits of the 80′s mix.
The crew had a great breakfast at a place called Diane’s where the specialty is poached eggs over crab cakes and fried green tomatoes on top of English muffins. I just go for scrambled eggs knowing full well that if I ordered that I would be out like Rip Van Winkle.