ABOUT TO TAKE OFF...
During the filming of the first movie in which I had the pleasure of participating, I experienced a very, very improbable episode, but I assure you it is true.
We were filming on the outskirts of Maracaibo, it was a Wednesday, and I was performing in a play in Caracas, which was the final week of the season. The clauses in my contract stated that I could film until noon that day, as I had to fly to Caracas to do the performance that night, and starting the following Monday, they could use my time as they saw fit since I would no longer have theater performances.
Up to that point, everything was going very well. The detail was that it was almost 3 PM, the last flight to Caracas left at 4, and we were on the outskirts of the capital. To top it off, the scene we were filming was none other than the death of my character, a terrible hitman, who, to the delight of the cinema audience, would be killed with many shots and there would be a lot of blood. Well, in reality, blood flowed throughout the movie since they killed the entire cast; it was not for nothing that it was called "The Slaughter of Santa Bárbara."
Well, a Spanish special effects makeup artist was in charge of my terrible appearance. Among all the things he did to me, he carefully introduced a product similar to gel into my scalp. It was more like a black gum that would melt with heat and give a very natural blood-like appearance that would run down my temples, my eyes, my neck, etc. Finally, we filmed the scene. The assistants were ready with towels, water, and my clothes to remove and clean any trace of my character. There, in the middle of the street and as quickly as I could, I took off my makeup and hopped into a taxi heading to "La Chinita" airport to catch my flight back to Caracas.
We were going over 120 km on those roads; it seemed like we would never arrive. I felt like Cinderella rushing home before the clock struck twelve and the magic was gone.
Finally, we arrived. I jumped out of the taxi and headed to the airline counter, where I encountered an employee who looked terrified and informed me that the flight was about to take off.
I wondered: what’s wrong with this guy? I wanted to die; I had to catch that flight no matter what! I asked him which way to the runway, and he pointed to some ramps. I looked like a figure skater flying down those ramps, and at the end, I encountered some national guards who obviously stopped me and looked at me in horror. I said to them:
· Excuse me, but I have to catch that flight; it’s a matter of life or death... The guard looked at his partner, who nodded, and he communicated with the control tower via radio to stop the plane. Again, they both looked at me almost with pity. I thought: everyone here is crazy. The official said: Run! Run, the plane is waiting for you!
I don’t know if you know that those small planes have a rear entrance or exit, yes, like from the back of the plane. As I was running, I saw a door opening, but no stairs came down. When I arrived and looked up, the terrified flight attendant told me:
· Get on, get on... and I wondered: How the heck? Finally, a small ladder of about two steps came down, and it was still very high. Like a primate, I climbed up the steps and sat in a random seat. The flight attendant told me: - Don’t move; we are about to take off. Of course, all the passengers' eyes were on me, and I thought, why are they looking at me in horror? Finally, the plane took off, and the flight attendant kindly asked me:
· Would you like something, a sedative? You look very pale, and I replied:
· Well, water or something to drink, if you don’t mind.
They assigned me my seat, and the guy sitting next to me almost yelled and said:
· Sir, what happened to you, for God’s sake!!! I didn’t understand anything. But when I went to wipe the sweat off my face, what I wiped was "blood." The famous product did its job, and of course, they hadn’t removed everything they had put on my scalp, so it did its function. I was bleeding quite naturally.
The incredible thing about this story, which I have always wondered, is how they let a person who was supposedly injured get on a plane? They never asked me my name, nor did they ask for my ticket... nothing. The important thing is that I was able to arrive in time for my performance... Oh! And that scene that took so much effort was useless. We repeated it a few weeks later in Calabozo, and with all the calm and tranquility, I enjoyed the death of my character.
By the way, the guy who traveled next to me… yes, the one who yelled, was none other than Amílcar Boscán, the soloist of the well-known group "Guaco."
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