Brian was working for a few weeks on the Paramount lot, and with a bit of smooth talking was able to "borrow" an unused conference room for a night. We had spent a week or so putting together a budget, some conceptual art, and a game plan on how it was all going to be produced. We had our producer and Director of Photography join us, and we phoned in the names of the band and their management to the front gate. It was all very impressive and professional looking, and we were nervous about the pitch, but everything rolled forward like a ball of unstoppable kinetic energy, at the mercy of gravity alone.

We dressed up, we shook hands, we smiled. You do what you have to do. There were three songs, and we had a different concept for each of them. One was a simple band-in-the studio set of images, one was a black and white, documentary-style collage of homeless people and their plight, and the last was, boldly, a western. Brian and I took turns going over the ideas, with our DP and Producer backing us up when there was a technical question. We moved through the stories easily, passionately, and we pandered to the band. We were confident and self-assured, and everyone had felt like they had just gotten off the bus in Tinsel-town. 

When the meeting was over, everyone was in in full support of the project. We laughed, we told stories, we admired the film artifacts in the lobby. They asked what our timeframe was, and we said we'd be ready to shoot in a month. We'd have to move fast, but we needed to line up the equipment and a crew, get some location permits and things like that, but we claimed it was possible. We were going to start with the homeless-themed project, and this seemed the easiest of the three to shoot. We were going to shoot it with an Arriflex 16mm, and go over film stocks with the DP later. The next few weeks would be location scouting and shot lists. We'll be in touch, babe!

Brian and I were riding high that night. It was a fun wave for a few hours, until it hit us that we sill had no idea where the money was coming from -or if it would come at all- but that was going to be cleared up in the coming days, when we had to make the same pitch to the guy who was financing the whole operation.

So the next Friday we had to do it again, only without the Paramount Studios overhead to prop us up. Brian had moved onto a different production, so now we had to hold the meetings elsewhere. Their people talked to our people, and it was decided that The Financier would have us over to his expensive home in the Valley. Great! But we were nervous. "Just tell it like you told us," the band's manager said, which was a fine sentiment, but everyone likes to know who is signing the checks. We had no idea who this angelic investor was, and we braced ourselves for the worst. In fact, the origins of the guy seemed lost on the band too, as one of them mentioned at the time, "I have no idea what the guy does, but I wish I had his money." I think I heard he was the bass player's uncle. Or something.

The week before, as we were exiting the Paramount offices, the manager was stopped by a large, jovial mustachioed man accompanied by two thin, scantily-clad women. "Ron!" our new acquaintance exclaimed, and their was some hugging, and a hey-old-friend type of exchange. We were all then introduced to Ron Jeremy, the "Charlie Chaplin of Porn" as he was known. Details of the exploits that garnered that monicker will not be relayed here, but Brian and the guys in the band all knew of him, and felt like they were meeting a star. Jeremy, his own greatest publicist, reached into his briefcase and pulled out a few autographed 8x10s of himself with more scantily clad women. It all embarrassed me.

Mostly because I was a long time, diligent student of film, and here I had never heard of the "Charlie Chaplin of Porn" or any of his, ahem, accomplishments. He seemed nice enough, no doubt, and he offered to help out with our production. He told me about his warehouse full of camera gear, and how most of it went unused since they'd switched over to video. He said I could check it out. Borrow what I wanted. Let's get together! Give me your number!

I gave him my number, and he called it. I wasn't home and he left a message, "Sean! It's Ron! Ron Jeremy! Just wanted to set a time to hook up, show you my equipment! Like I said, you guys are welcome to use any of it! Give me a call..." This was all very awkward. When Brian and I discussed the opportunity to save some of the budget with our producer, she had some reservations. "I mean," she put it gently,"can you imagine what's gone through those lenses?"

Ron Jeremy called a few more times. I never called him back. All record of him having tried to reach me was erased, since I was living at home with my parents and younger brothers and sisters at the time. I can only imagine what my mother thought when Ron Jeremy called, looking for me, asking me when he could "show me his equipment."

So the big meeting came, and we were nervous. The budget amounted to nearly $250,000, with the bulk of that money going to the western style video. The band had been pretty excited when we'd pitched that idea to them, and showed them some of the costumes and locations we had in mind, so we added some money to the budget to really make the concepts sparkle.

When this was all pitched that fateful night to the financier, the manager interrupted with "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" like we had never been clear on the specific costs. We started in on defending the numbers, and brought out the production budget to explain, but it was The Man who calmed us all. "Actually, $250,000 sounds reasonable the way you have it laid out here..." And everyone shut up. We said we had plans to begin production in a couple weeks, and our producer would like to know about the timeframe for the funding, so that we could put our deposits down on equipment rental, insurance, etc. He just nodded, smiled, and said that he could have the partial budget money for video #1 wired to our account in a week. Upwards to 50 grand. "Great!" we said. And then he asked about "Road Trip Productions".

"How'd you come up with the name?"

I shrugged. "We like road trips." And this seemed to please him. Later, one of the band mates told us that he had several nice cars. Several.

That night, Brian and I were driving eastbound on the 134. It was a hot summer night, and we'd put out our cigars and bid the talent goodbye, and we were racing down the freeway with the windows rolled down, screaming at the top of our lungs. This was it! The moment we'd always longed for! We were going to be BIG, and nothing was going to stop us! I was punch drunk and wanted to kiss everyone on the mouth, which I think I did. At home in bed that night, I couldn't sleep from the excitement. I was just laying there, laughing to myself, thanking profusely the Good Lord Above, and any tangental, if only partially-involved, celestial beings. I had no real idea what was going to happen next, or how it was all going to unfold, but I knew one thing. Disney was going to get my two-week notice first thing Monday morning.