Sampling a Fantasy Job
By: Kelly Keenan Trumpbour
After finishing grad school, I indulged my fantasy and auditioned for a spot as an extra in the movie The Wedding Crashers.
On the audition application, I listed my ability to stand in high heels for hours on end under “special skills.” I swear that was enough to get me the job.
One week later the phone rang and my caller ID displayed “Central Casting.” Not only did I get the part as a wedding guest, but I could now walk around yelling “Central Casting called!” which I did all the time, without stop.
There were over 100 extras at the hair and makeup tent at 5:30 a.m. on the first day of shooting. We were a bunch of Maryland locals giddy to be hobnobbing with Hollywood. The crew kept telling us how easy we were to work with compared to L.A. extras. Apparently, they bitch slap each other for on-camera moments. We merely pretended not to understand English when the assistant directors told us to move back.
I wore a ball gown for seven days straight and stood outside in the 90 degree sun. Slathered in sunscreen, and wearing a bouffant hair style that could rival some of Dolly Parton’s best looks, I rarely felt glamorous. When shooting wrapped around 8:00 p.m., and the obscene amount of makeup could no longer stay put, I collapsed in bed barely able to find energy to eat.
Secretly my husband feared that the bright lights would seduce me, and I would beg him to uproot our life and move to California. I assured him that Julia Roberts herself would have to offer me exclusive use of her private jet, and admit I was better looking, before I considered such an idea.
I had my taste of Hollywood, and I actually made it into the movie. Sure I’m blurry and partially obscured by Rachel McAdam’s shoulder, but who cares!