I turned into the park expecting to have another aloha-filled day, but was sorely challenged. A film crew for \u201cManhattan Love Story,\u201d a new ABC sitcom, had occupied the north end of the plaza and filled it with wooden benches, phony hot dog stands, lights, electronics, booms, cartloads of cables, and all the appurtenances of a professional shoot, including at least 3 young crowd wranglers on my side of the fountain. At the moment I arrived, nothing seemed to be happening.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen are you guys starting your shoot?\u201d I asked a bearded man lounging in the sun.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCould you find out? I\u2019ll be making a lot of noise here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s no one to ask, they\u2019re all at lunch.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo when is lunch over?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d In fact, although they were wired with headsets for ease of communications, neither he, nor his 2 colleagues, knew anything for the rest of the afternoon, so I set up on center stage and started my set. An apple-cheeked lady made the first, and only, donation of the day.<\/p>\n
The cast and crew slowly drifted back and took their places around the fountain and on the wooden benches. A number of people limbered up to the sweet sound of my uke. All this activity drew large crowds in need of wrangling. Now armed with signs that asserted the production company\u2019s perpetual right to everyone\u2019s image, the youngsters formed a line to keep people from wandering into frame. I continued to play, encouraging people to dance the hula while they waited for the show to begin.<\/p>\n
After 45 minutes, a harried man in full beard and open work shirt showed up and started directing people. Little by little, the wranglers expanded their perimeter past where I was playing.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you doing, chasing away my audience?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can\u2019t stay here,\u201d ordered a tall young girl in a turquoise sweatshirt. I suppressed my first few responses, worked to summon the aloha spirit. Before I could respond civilly, however, she ran off to stop some Italian bicyclists from riding through the set.<\/p>\n
A 40-something man, looking very official, stopped to talk. He explained what was going on and asked if there was somewhere else I could play. \u201cYes,\u201d I said, \u201cI understand. Maybe you could give me a little tip?\u201d indicating my case.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did you have in mind?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow about $20,\u201d I said, naming the sum other film crews had given me to go away.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe can do better than that,\u201d he said. \u201cJust wait here a few minutes while I get a W-9 for you to sign. In the meantime, go ahead and play. I like your music; I\u2019m trying to convince them to put you in the scene.\u201d<\/p>\n
When the assistant director called \u201cAction,\u201d I put down my uke and watched as the actors wandered in front of the wooden benches, apparently randomly, while the boom-mounted camera swooped and dove to get the shot. This flash mob then aligned for an energetic dance, all mitout sound (MOS). At \u201ccut,\u201d they cheered and high-fived themselves before gathering to hear what the director had to say about their performance.<\/p>\n
I took up my uke and doggedly resumed my requests for hula, in vain. The crowd was thick around me; where was that guy with my money?<\/p>\n
After a second take, I asked the wranglers if they knew who that guy was who spoke to me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat guy?\u201d I explained, and the girl in turquoise said, \u201cWe\u2019re not paying you. Just get out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo need to be unpleasant,\u201d I managed to say, struggling to keep aloha in my heart.<\/p>\n
After another take, I approached a young woman who appeared to be a little higher up in the pecking order. She heard me out, then said, \u201cOk, I\u2019ll talk to the location manager right after the next take.\u201d<\/p>\n
It had been more than 30 minutes since I\u2019d been promised some money, and I was starting to wonder if I\u2019d been had. It was becoming increasingly difficult for me to stay calm, and I worried, knowing myself, that I might become loudly disruptive of the whole production. Finally, a young woman approached with a stack of W-9s. \u201cDave will be here in a minute,\u201d she told me. \u201cWe need the form to prove we didn\u2019t just spend the money on ourselves.\u201d<\/p>\n
As I filled out the form, Dave arrived and handed me a crisp 50. \u201cHis name is Dave,\u201d I shouted to the wranglers. \u201cGet in the loop.\u201d<\/p>\n
The young woman then asked if she could take a picture of me and my uke, additional documentation, I suspect, in support of the W-9. I shook hands with her and Dave, put my uke back in the case and exited the crowd. Feeling rather upset by the whole experience, despite the happy outcome, it occurred to me that ALOHA spelled backward is A-HOLA.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"