The trailers were back by the AMA building.
You know the spot on State Street, even if you don’t know what the big black box of a skyscraper is called. It’s just north of the river and across from the twin corncob towers of Marina City. Open plaza, some funky statues and often parked trailers for Chicago Fire, Chicago PD, Chicago Med, Chicago Justice, Chicago Traffic, Chicago Public Art, Chicago Department of Streets and Sanitation’s Bureau of Rodent Control and every other new show Dick Wolf rolls out about Windy City municipal workers now that he’s bled New York’s legal community dry.
The streets around the AMA building have been flocked with fake snow for winter scenes shot in May, they’ve seen fake fights, fake action scenes, fake expository thematic establishing shots and real craft services tables full of pasta salads for the extras.
This time one of the doors on one of the trailers said “Stunt Priest.”
It was the room where the stunt priest prepped.
Down a few steps from the stunt priest door, three disreputable men with Roman collars loitered and shot the breeze with a security guard.
“If this show has a priest fight, I will watch it forever,” I said.
The security guard and trio of faux clergy laughed.
“Which one is this? Justice? Fire? PD?” I continued.
“Actually, naw, it’s the Exorcist,” the guard said.
Ah, no Dick Wolf involved, just Fox’s ongoing saga about demonic possession.
“We’re the bad guys,” added one of the priests, gesturing to two likewise collared actors, one of whom was lighting a cigarette.
“How ya doin’?” the smoking priest said.
We chittered and chattered a few seconds. I listened as the guard jokingly tried to recruit the priest actors into being his posse and called them the Men in Black. I had to run to work, passing a separate smoking priest actor on the way.
It’s a silly story, and mostly a visual gag in print, but I tell this story because I had none this morning. I’ve been in Seattle for a week and had some severe writers block overnight. I left for work with no story, just confidence that this silly, odd, errantly wonderful city would provide me something silly, odd and errantly wonderful as soon as I walked out the door.
Heh. “Stunt Priest.”
Enjoy dirty politics and dirty martinis with me at “How to Steal an Election,” a night I’m running with Atlas Obscura and the Room 13 speakeasy a week before the election. Swill craft cocktails while I take you through decades of COMPLETELY LEGAL voter manipulation in Chicago and elsewhere. Fun, civics, jazz and the craftiest of craft cocktails. Tickets are going fast.