Sitting around at a wrap party in a park with a bunch of friends for a show called Dame. Mickey is there, as is Feral. We start passing phones around showing the different things we’d saved during the production. I’ve been hungry and drinking often lately, but tonight I’m not imbibing at all and I’m just as happy.
A long car pulls up to the curb at the outdoor crew party. I’m asked to drive it, and I agree to volunteer, as long as it’s not a manual transmission. But it so happens that an older black guy in the crew excitedly volunteers after I’ve already climbed inside. The driver sits on a raised platform towards the back, so I take a ride in the spacious cabin, which is luxuriously laid out like a sightseeing tour boat crossed with the Batmobile.
We bump along at speed along the long curve of an unpaved rural hill. I have a dramatic view of an impressively acrobatic helicopter fight, the mismatched belligerents ducking and sliding and swooping in midair.