Posts Tagged ‘Three Seconds’

  1. Summer’s End

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    August 27, 2017 by admin

    The faint stink of ginkgo greeted me upon entering Strawberry Fields.  Another sign of summer’s end, the fallen leaves of plane trees freckled the green lawn at Daniel Webster’s feet.

     

    Bethesda Fountain was given over to the film crew for a new movie, “Three Seconds,” coming out next year.  A sign on the stairway warned that anyone in the area could end up on the silver screen.  I set up at center stage, ignoring the many PA’s with headsets, the techies with clipboards, and the bevvy of people huddled around the director’s chair in the arcade.  I stood to play, scanning left and right for anyone approaching who might want me to shut up and go away.

     

    Three young people, 2 women, and a man with earrings and a blonde streak in his hair, wandered by.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”  One of the women, who was from New York, was all in, and, after a few words of encouragement, so were her friends from Connecticut and Philly.  They rocked out to “The Hukilau Song.”  The New Yorker danced and took pictures at the same time.  Afterward, she showed me a handful of coins, pointing out that most of them were Susan B’s.  In fact, there were 5 Susan B’s, and 2 quarters, plus another 2 bucks from her friends.

     

    A threesome of 5-year-olds were the next to dance the hula.  Three dads took pictures and reached into their wallets.  The kids, one white, one black, one brown, delivered the dollars to me.  One of the boys wanted to play with my solar-powered hula girls.  I took the pink one apart and showed them all how the sun’s rays generated a tiny current through a copper coil, creating a tiny magnetic field that caused a pendulum, hinged at the shoulders and equipped with a magnet at the bottom, to swing back and forth, and with it the hula girl’s torso and arms.  “They’re never too young to dance the hula or learn about electromagnetism,” I told the dads.

     

    A well-dressed woman holding a well-dressed child by the hand slowed as she came close.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”  She laughed and kept walking.  Then she stopped.  “Changed your mind?”

     

    “No, no, but I will listen for a moment.  Sing me something.”

     

    I sang “Honolulu Eyes.”

     

    She said, “Thank you,” and gave me a fiver.

     

    A Brazilian woman danced a sexy hula, while her friends clapped and laughed ($3).  A thin old man stood at a distance while I finished off “Honolulu Baby” with a flourish.  He came forward to make a donation.  “Did you like that song?”  “It’s not the song, it’s how you sing it,” he said ($2).  Two kids wanted to hula.  “Make sure it’s ok with your mom,” I said to the elder.  “That’s my nanny,” she said, adding, “that’s his nanny too” ($4).

     

    A short, muscular man came running up to me as I sang “My Baby Just Cares for Me.”  He held a phone to his ear; he was drunk.  “Sing to my buddy in Michigan,” he said.  “Listen to this guy,” he said, “I’m in New York City.  In Central Park.  Listen to this guy.”  He held the phone up to me.

     

    I continued to sing, “My baby don’t care for shows, my baby don’t care for clothes…”

     

    “Sing about Ted Nugent,” he said.  “My baby don’t care for Ted Nugent, ‘cause he sucks.”

     

    His friend hung up on us.  The man explained that his friend was having a terrible time, gave me a dollar and walked away.

     

    It was a $25-plus day.  As I packed up, I said to the PA who’d been assigned my corner of the fountain, “Thanks for not asking me to stop playing.  Film crews usually want me to go away.”

     

    “No problem,” she said.  “We shot all the dialog yesterday.  Today was just people walking around, strictly M.O.S.”

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