I've had one more since Friday, but Friday wouldn't have been a bad way to go out.
It was just down the road. And by "just", I mean, just. I drove exactly five miles to get there. We were filming a promo for the Las Vegas chamber of commerce or tourism council or something...but you could never have guessed because we were just a bunch of guys smeared with filth makeup and decked out in kilts and animal skins. There was running, there was grunting, there were war cries, and there were broadswords. There were also, I believe, tastefully clad male strippers. I worked with a stunt guy, I swung a styrofoam mace. I "played" a bagpipe.
So the next time you see a friendly invite to Las Vegas that looks like an excerpt from Braveheart, look for the scrawny white boy with the tousled scuzzy red hair. I'm in there.
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