Day 2 -- Wednesday, October 21

This was the routine twenty-some-odd years ago...

The Duceys and the Hasous would go out to dinner at Orlando's restaurant in Endicott, NY. Then back to the Hasou's house where the parents would hang out and chat upstairs while the kids would hurry down to the basement to see if Charo was setting sail on the Love Boat or not. Julie could plan the best parties. Issac was someone you could talk to. But that crazy Gopher was our favorite. From 9 to 10, we set sail to Mazatlan, Puerto Viarta, and Aculpulo. We danced on the Promenade Deck and played shuffleboard on the Lido deck. We didn't have a care in the world.

But then at 10 o'clock, our world began to change. We could hear a bell sounding in the distance. A diminutive gentleman would make his way to the top of the bell tower and in a world where anything could happen, any dream could come true, any wish could be granted, the only way the people on the island knew that guests were arriving was for this little man to shout, "Da plane! Da plane!" (This is not how Captain Stubbing would do things.)

The tanned bodies dressed in flowers would scurry up to the dock to greet this week's crew of guests. Drinks in coconut-shaped glasses with little umbrellas awaited the plane's occupants as they prepared to live out their secret fantasies. And as the bright-eyed yet mysterious Mr. Rourke welcomed his charges, I would make my head a little more comfy on the Hasou's fluffy couch, but still try my darnedest to stay awake until eleven, so I could see if the married couple got back together or if the young businessman overcame his fear of heights. But more often than not, the powers of the night would overtake and I would drift into a Saturday night slumber. And could it be that somewhere in one of those secret childhood dreams, as Ricardo Montalban's melodious voice weaved into and out of my subconscious, that for at least one session of REM, I too, stepped off that plane onto a tropical paradise and raised a glass to our host, Mr. Rourke? Because today Little Johnny's dream would have actually come true.

with Megan Ward, Kadeem Hardison, Paul Carafotes

The day began with the four of us getting off the plane, grabbing drinks, being discussed, establishing our characters, the nearly classic Fantasy Island opener. (scene 4) No tanned bodies or outfits made of flowers this time. Little umbrellas, yes. Coconut cups, no. And no Tatoo, of course. But still the corny feeling of 'Here we go again' as three naive dreamers unwittingly put themselves in Mr. Rourke's hands only to have their dreams become nightmares.

Speaking of which... The disembarking scene took a long, long time. Actually, that could apply to most of the stuff we did today. Both the opening scene and a family crochet scene (scene 20) had a lot of people in them, including first-day folks like myself, not to mention a little tricky business with luggage and mallets and such, so co-ordinating everyone was a challenge.

The other actors are all great, though, so downtime was quite fun. Megan Ward and I spent a fair amount of time trying to dissect and decipher our "break-up scene," (scene 47) the trickiest one we have emotionally. It was a fun process. We ran it a few different ways, trying things out, and by the time the cameras were in our faces, had made some interesting and helpful adjustments. I think we pulled it off the best we could. And that was what wrapped the night.

One drink in the bar later and I was wrapped myself, wrapped in a sheet and blanket on the eighth floor of dream-land. And who knows, perhaps I was dreaming about a happy night on the Hasou's couch...

Go on to Day 3

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