20 Thousand Feet from Stardom
In my early twenties, I moved to Vancouver with a hope and dream that one day I would find myself in front of a camera other than my own. With a reputation for being the “Hollywood of the North,” I knew it was only a matter of time before my talent would make the final cut. Well, you can understand my frustration then when a decade nearly passed and the only red carpet I walked, was my friend Maggie’s.
I do not wish you to believe that I was by any means passive during this time, for my search to be discovered was an arduous one. I cannot even tell you the number of times I accidentally stumbled on to film sets or got lost in a line-up of movie trailers. I can tell you, however, the number of written warnings I received at the restaurant for giving my head shot to producers with their bill: three.
At thirty-years-old, my big break finally arrived. It was a cloudy afternoon in the spring of 2015, when I auditioned for the role of a lifetime. Shuffling into the backseat of a cab with my bag Hunter, I kindly directed the driver, “take me to Railtown please! I am going to be a star!” Buckling my seatbelt, I was overcome with a sense of relief that my life on the West Coast had just started. Sailing 56 clicks over the Cambie Street bridge, I could not escape the feeling I was going places.
Arriving at my destination, I gazed out the window at the vast expanse of concrete, brick, and steel that stretched before me. Soaring above the factories and warehouses that curved to each railway track, the squawk of seagulls was rivaled only by the cacophony of construction hammering below.
“Railtown,” I awed.
“Sailing 56 clicks over the Cambie Street bridge, I could not escape the feeling I was going places.”
Once known as “Little Tokyo,” Railtown is an industrial part of Vancouver that is three blocks from the Downtown Eastside and one giant leap towards stardom and fame. Like other urban neighbourhoods, this historic part of the city could not escape the eventual grip of gentrification. Sandwiched in between boutique restaurants and craft breweries, factories that used to manufacture fish tins, now produce young talent and trendy backpacks.
Tipping the driver handsomely, I strapped Hunter around my chest, and paused for a moment before opening the yellow door.
“One day, ya know, you are going to see me on the big screen. Just you wait!” I exclaimed.
“Yeah, yeah kid, that’s what they all say!” two tired eyes rested upon mine in the rearview mirror. “Pretty soon you will be chewed up and spit out like the rest of us. Now getta out here! Some of us got bills to pay!”
Ejecting myself from the vehicle before it ripped away, I did not let my confidence waver. Dusting my shoulders off, I checked my phone for the hour and realized I had no time to waste. Looming before me stood a three-storey warehouse that made up in length what it lacked in height. Extending 365,000 square feet, I knew I was going to have to get moving if I was going to make my audition on time. Inside, I swear I must have walked a half-marathon before I found the door I was looking for.
Printed on a recycled sheet of 8.5x11 paper and barely held up with two pieces of scotch tape, a sign read, “Last Chance for Romance, Casting NOW. Knock first, K thanks.”
This was it!
This was my stop!
Knock, knock, knock.
To be continued.
