Harry here... here's part one of Quint's epic GHOST OF MARS trip that he and Mouth took last year. It took him a while to put it all to words that were fit for folks, enjoy.

Ahoy there, squirts. ‘Tis I, Quint, the lusty, crusty seaman here once more, this time with an epic tale to tell ye’ on this dark and stormy night. It begins with two excited geeks embarking on the Ultimate Geek Road Trip and ends with two tired geeks, a blessed green condom and Harry’s decapitated head in a Star Wars pillow case.

But let’s start at the beginning, shall we? It all began last summer at the Savini Fest held at the Alamo Drafthouse here in Austin, TX. Tom Savini was in town showing 3 of his films (Creepshow, Maniac and Dawn of the Dead) and all the gore hounds in Austin were in good cheer and merriment.

It was during the break between the first film and the second film that I approached Mr. Savini in the Alamo’s lobby with my Dawn of the Dead poster in hand. He was a super nice guy and we were bullshitting a bit, when I looked over and saw a guy wearing shorts and a t-shirt with long, blonde hair. My Seaman Sense started to tingle. "Hey, Tom," I said. "Isn’t that Greg Nicotero over there?" Tom looked over and confirmed my instinct. "I hear he’s supposedly the biggest Jaws geek ever," I said to Savini. "Oh, yeah. They don’t come much bigger than Greg," he responded. "We’ll see about that," I said and excused myself.

So it was that I approached special effects god Greg Nicotero of KNB FX, signed Dawn of the Dead poster still clutched in my hands, and the Clash of the Jaws Titans began. I put my hand out. "Hello, Greg. I’m Quint." He shook my hand and nodded knowingly. That’s when it started. We poked and prodded, testing each other’s weaknesses, seeing who would get the upper hand and title of biggest Jaws geek. It was intense, to say the least.

After the smoke cleared there was one Jaws champion that clearly reigned high above the other. Let me tell you, I am glad to accept the honor of being the SECOND biggest Jaws fan around. I hereby concede. Greg Nicotero is the Duke of Amity, A #1. After that, we became friends. It turned out he was in town working on Robert Rodriguez’s Spy Kids and would be here through most of the summer. Both he and Robert promised me a day on the set of Spy Kids to check out... a certain scene that they both knew I would be interested in seeing being shot .

I did end up going to the Spy Kids set and what I saw was very impressive. I can’t tell you guys what it was, but I can say it was the first time I’ve seen Greenscreen work being done in person, on set. I think Spy Kids is gonna surprise some of you out there. We’ll see, though. Here’s a pic taken of me and Robert on that set:

Soon Greg’s work in Austin was done. I got his email address before he left and promised to stay in touch. Fast forward to a few months later when Quentin Tarantino’s QT Quattro film fest was in its last few days when I got an email from Greg telling me that he’s currently in Albuquerque, New Mexico working on John Carpenter’s Ghosts of Mars. My crusty eyebrows raised. Albuquerque? I had relatives that lived in Albuquerque. I responded to Greg’s email and jokingly told him that I had family that lived in Alb., so when could I come out? I was only half serious, but the next day I got his response. "If you can make it by Sept. 15th, come on out."

He didn’t need to tell me twice. Sept. 15th was only two weeks away, so I had to work fast. I checked MapQuest and found out that it was at least a 14 hour drive from Austin to Albuquerque... hmmm. That meant I’d either need to bring someone along to trade off with or have extra money for a hotel. The catch hadn’t been big around that time, so money was tight. I decided to give Mouth a call.

The words weren’t even out of my mouth before his bags were packed. I began getting the rest of my checklist squared away, got he Orca fixed up, got clothes packed, called the Elderly Seamen and Women and secured us a place to stay while in New Mexico, dropped by the taxidermy man, got the required geek road trip listening set up and found the best and quickest route to Albuquerque. Here's the first of many comments by Mouth. Throughout the tale, Mouth'll pop up and give a little look into his perspective of the trip. He'll always be in all caps.

MOUTH HERE WITH THE GOONIE SIDE OF THE STORY. I WAITED FOR QUINT AT THE GOONDOCKS AFTER A LONG DAY OF SEEKING RICH STUFF, ANXIOUS TO HEAD OUT ON A TREASURE HUNT THE LIKES OF WHICH ONLY A JUNIOR PIRATE LIKE MYSELF AND A BIG FISH HUNTER LIKE QUINT COULD LEAD. SO, WE SET OFF IN THE ORCA FOR... THE DESERT?

I picked Mouth up at his abode, next to the big golf course where Goondocks use to be, just after dusk. You see, the plan was to drive through the night to avoid as much traffic as possible. By my calculations we would arrive in Albuquerque around mid afternoon the next day. What I didn’t count on was being attacked by large animals during the night. Now, I’ve been chased by 25 foot Great Whites before, so I’m no stranger to being hunted by big, scary beasts. That was nothing in comparison to what happened somewhere in West Texas.

The highway was a shroud of darkness with the Orca’s headlights the only power tearing through the blackness. Every once in a while there’d be glints off to the side of the road. I, at first, dismissed them as being nothing more than fireflies or maybe shiny rocks that reflected my headlights. They became more numerous as the journey went on. They started to look like pairs of bright eyes staring hungrily at Mouth and myself, staring through us. What was going on?

Then they disappeared. There was no sign of them for an hour. Just as we let our guard down the first attack came. Mouth was behind the wheel, I was lounging in my fishing chair. There was a flash of brown just outside the illumination of the headlights and I caught a glimpse of two beady, black eyes and a tangle of sharp points. Mouth let out a high pitched, girly scream and jerked the wheel to the left, avoiding the brown monstrosity by inches.

"What the fuck was that?" He whimpered. I gave out a list of suggestions. "Giant squid? Bigfoot? Harry Knowles? Some other mythic beast?" Mouth flashed on the brights, his eyes darting from one side of the road to the other, frantically searching for a sign of any of the above ungodly creatures. I glanced over to the drifting West Texas countryside and got my first view of the beast. "That was no Giant Squid," I said. "It wasn’t bigfoot, it wasn’t Harry Knowles and it wasn’t Jack the Ripper. It was a deer."

Just as the words came out of my mouth, as if they heard me identify them, deer lined both sides of the deserted freeway. I wasn’t 100% correct, though. These weren’t just deer. They were Kamikaze Deer and we had entered their land. One after another they threw themselves in front of the Orca. Mouth adeptly avoided them, his fear turning to glee. I could tell Mouth wasn’t driving the Orca anymore, he was off somewhere playing some video game in his head. I guess in frustration, the Kamikaze Deer gave up after an hour or so, seemingly content to let us on our way.

That’s when I whipped out my Best of Seaman Songs Classics volumes 1-5 and let me tell you, Mouth was driven to the edge of insanity. But fuck him. It was my vessel and when he’s aboard my vessel, he’s mate and I’m Captain. His complaining started drowning out my favorite songs, however, so I let him have control of the Orca’s radio for a while. Mouth’ll tell you more about this:

AFTER 4 HOURS OF DRUNKEN FISHERMAN SONGS (WILL HE PLEASE SHUT UP ABOUT THAT SPANISH LADY!) EVEN A LOUDMOUTH LIKE MYSELF LIKES TO SIT BACK TO MUSIC A BIT MORE CULTURED AND APPROPRIATE FOR THE GRAND VOYAGE. I PULLED OUT MY FRANK ZAPPA AND EXPOSED DEAR OLD QUINT TO THE WONDERS OF "THE JAZZ DISCHARGE PARTY HAT" BASED UPON A SERIES OF PANTY SNIFFING INCIDENTS THAT OCCURRED AT OUR DESTINATION, ALBUQUERQUE, NM.

EAGER TO PRESS MY ADVANTAGE AT THE ORCA’S STEREO, I QUICKLY PRODUCED COMPILATIONS ENTITLED, "UNMIXED COMPANY MIX" AND "THE NEGRO IN ME" WHICH FEATURED UNCOMMONLY HEARD TRACKS FROM THE ‘50S (WHEN ROCK AND ROLL WAS REALLY EVIL) AND THE ‘70S (WHEN NOTHING WAS REALLY EVIL) RESPECTIVELY.

Hey, I love ‘80s music just as much, if not more than, the average guy, but after the second consecutive hour of Cindy Lauper’s "Goonies R Good Enough" I... well... had enough! I vetoed his music and threw on some Beatles.

It was about this time that the final attack by the Kamikaze Deer commenced. I was at the helm this time and got to narrowly avoid hitting the beasts. My deer were much bigger than Mouth’s and I still avoided them with ease. As the blackness in front of us started to turn a deep, dark red we reached the state line. Goodbye Texas, hello New Mexico. We stopped, stretched and took in our surroundings.

Mouth again took the wheel and as we entered New Mexico the sky began to brighten and the land flatten. It really goes to show that the state lines (at least Texas and New Mexico’s) weren’t just thrown together to make pretty shaped states. Texas was hilly and lush with trees and brush. Then we hit New Mexico and the land flattened and all vegetation was drastically reduced. Oh well, at least no more surprise attacks by the Kamikaze Deer, right? Well... sort of.

The Kamikaze Deer didn’t dare venture into the desert, but they apparently radioed ahead to their allies in these parts. That’s right, dude. We traded Kamikaze Deer for Killer Kamikaze Jackrabbits. Of course there was one small difference. We wouldn’t die if we hit a Killer Kamikaze Jackrabbit at 70 mph. They blew across the freeway nonetheless, like living tumbleweeds. I pointed them out to Mouth but he was off in his own world.

I COULDN’T BE BOTHERED AT THIS POINT, I WAS MAX, DRIVING ENDLESSLY THROUGH THIS BARREN WASTELAND...

Oh, Christ! He’s at it again. We soon stopped for gas and caffeine. Mouth was full of both, but the Orca was not. Gas tank full and ice chest stocked I got behind the wheel as Mouth was mumbling about eating dog food or a pedi-copter or something.

We neared Carlsbad, NM and both of us realized our tummies were rumbling. The freeway, it seemed was taking us through downtown Carlsbad (all 3 blocks of it) and we decided to stop at the first breakfast joint we could find. It was a pact that I lived to regret. About halfway through Carlsbad we came upon a place called Pete’s. As we pulled into the parking space, we noticed Pete himself was pictured on the sign. I recoiled in horror and Mouth screamed in delight.

SAFETY! SECURITY! SOMEONE I KNOW! SLOTH!!!!

The place was basically a large house that was turned into a restaurant. It was strange, scary and all together disturbing. I’ll let Mouth tell you about it. I can’t bear to dig up those memories.

WALKING INTO PETE’S WAS LIKE STEPPING INTO A TIMELESS DIMENSION OF ETERNALLY TWISTED AMERICANA. SOOT COVERED VELVET ELVISES LINED THE WALLS, AS WOOD CARVINGS OF TRIBESMEN GATHERED DUST ON FOLD OUT TABLES ACROSS THE ROOM. SOMEONE WEARING A HARLEY-DAVIDSON BALL CAP WHO KNEW THE WAITRESS’ NAME WAS SIPPING THEIR COFFEE WHILE A CIGARETTE BURNED DOWN TO HIS FINGERS. IT WAS EERIE.

We left as soon as the food, if you can call it that, was in our bellies and the check was paid. I still felt alert, awake and frosty, so I again climbed the helm and took the wheel. Next stop was Roswell, but there was a couple hundred miles of desert separating us. I guess we were back in allied territory because there was no more further Kamikaze attacks for the remainder of the trip.

Mouth immediately lost consciousness and it was just me, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and the early morning desert air blowing through my hair. New Mexico is definitely beautiful country, though, so I didn’t mind in the slightest. About 50 miles from Roswell I saw the most interesting sign of the trip. I wanted to wake up Mouth and tell him about it, but I am a kind-hearted seaman and let him have his sleep. Imagine this: Flat, desert landscape that stretches for miles with some sparse dried bushes, some cacti and not much else. See it? Now imagine a single, large road sign, white with black words. The words said, and I quote, "NOTICE Do Not Pick Up Hitch-Hikers. Prison Facilities In This Area." The sign in and of itself was funny, but the fact that it was sitting in a veritable wasteland was what made it classic. Little did I know the fun we would have with that sign on the way back... but that’s getting AHEAD of myself.

Mouth instinctively woke up as we neared Roswell. I really started suspecting Mouth to be an alien at this point. I mean, it was his idea to detour into Roswell in the first place and he wakes up, for no reason, out of a deep sleep as we drew near to the city limits. Maybe he wanted to find the mothership... I don’t know. Here’s what Mouth had to say about Roswell:

AS THE NAVIGATOR FOR THE VOYAGE, I WANTED TO REROUTE OUR PATH TO ENSURE OUR PASSAGE THROUGH THIS SCI-FI GEEK MECCA. IF YOU FIND YOURSELF IN THIS SITUATION... DON’T BOTHER.

I guess he was disappointed that the mothership had taken off and left him behind. We still visited some of the alien shops and took a look at the UFO Museum. I mean, how could we not? This place had streetlights in the form of alien heads for Christ’s sake! We both sent off a couple alien postcards (which were going to be postmarked from Roswell and stamped with an alien image we were told) and climbed back into the Orca. Mouth took the helm at this point still grumbling. As I took my position up on the Crow’s Nest, Mouth pointed West and shouted:

YOU KNOW, VEGAS IS ONLY 8 MORE HOURS THAT WAY!

"Silly Goonie," I shouted back. "Ghosts of Mars. John Carpenter set. Remember?" Mouth grumbled, but aimed the Orca at Albuquerque.

We arrived at the Senior Seaman’s shack just as planned, mid afternoon and were greeted by my Grandmother, Grandfather and Father. We all celebrated as much as Mouth and I could handle, being we had passed the 24 hours of consciousness... well, I did anyway, Mouth had that little nap, but we were both exhausted nevertheless. I made some calls and let people know we were in town. When I talked to Greg, he told me there might be a problem getting on set. Now you tell me! Apparently he talked to Carpenter’s wife/producer/script supervisor Sandy King and she was unsure if John would be cool with us on set.

Everything turned out all right in the end, though. The next day I heard from Greg and he told me everything was worked out and we will be visiting the set on Monday, two days from then. That day, Saturday, was spent at the New Mexico State Fair with Pappa Seaman where we watched some cool airplane stunts, got our fortunes told and all lost money on them ponies.

I called Greg the next day, making sure everything was still set up. It was and we decided to meet up with Greg that night and have dinner at Carrabbas. We got there a tad before Nicotero. He came in total Greg attire. Faded T-shirt, worn shorts and flip-flops. We sat down to eat and the chatting began. We talked about everything from Tom Savini to Stephen King to George Romero.

He told us how frustrated he was at some productions he’s worked with. How he’d get only barebones instructions on what they’d want him to build/create and then get yelled out for not doing it exactly as the director envisioned and have to start all over again. We talked about him working on Hearts in Atlantis and building the prosthetic for the scene where the young girl gets her arm pulled out of its socket. The conversation was all over the map, as it’s apt to be with someone who’s worked so long in the business. Here’s what Mouth has to say about it:

TRYING TO REMEMBER PARTS OF A CONVERSATION WITH GREG NICOTERO IS DIFFICULT AS A GEEK BECAUSE SO MANY INSIDE BITS OF INFORMATION ABOUT ALL OF YOUR FAVORITE MOVIES COME UP. IT’S LIKE TALKING TO A LIVING RANDOM DVD COMMENTARY. HIS KNOWLEDGE ABOUT FILM AND EFFECTS IS STAGGERING AND HE’S ALWAYS EAGER TO GIVE YOU ANOTHER WONDROUS TIDBIT.

BUT ONE THING HE SAID REALLY STUCK WITH ME (AND I PARAPHRASE) "I WONDER WHAT THE PEOPLE AT THE HOTEL THINK I DO, ANYWAY. I’M DRIVING A VAN FILLED WITH (FOAM LATEX) BODY PARTS, ARMS AND HEADS AND EVERY DAY I COME BACK COVERED IN BLOOD, GUTS AND PUS."

Then Greg dropped the Big Bombshell. As most of you readers may know, Harry had his face plastered and a mold made by KNB for his cameo as a head on a pike in Ghosts of Mars. We knew this to be true and hoped to get a glimpse of the head onset. Then Greg said, "I want you guys to do something for me. I want you to take Harry’s head back to him." Holy shit!!! How cool is that? Of course, I had to keep cool around Greg, so I said, "Yeah. Sure. Whatever." He smiled knowingly. Dammit. Can’t fool some people.

So, that’s what having dinner with Greg Nicotero is like. We got the essential information (aka where the set is) and parted ways. Mouth and I decided to drive to the set directly from Carrabbas so we would know exactly how to get there the next day. You know, if it was hard to find, we’d get lost that night, not the next day when we were expected. We found it with minimal difficulty and ended stopping off at a Hastings and found such great obscure videos as The Muthas and Bloodsucking Pharaohs in Pittsburgh.

With cool videos in hand, we returned to the Senior Seaman’s abode. It was around midnight if I remember correctly, but the shoot the next day was a night shoot, so we were OK. I don’t know about Mouth, but that night I felt like I was 5 years old again and tomorrow was going to be Christmas morning. What presents were gonna be under the tree? Just like the 5 year old squirt, I had only the vaguest ideas of what to expect the next day, but however shiny or plain the wrappings were I knew I’d be the happiest boy in the world.

It was hard getting to sleep, but when I fluttered my eyes open in the late morning hours, I was rested up and excited to start the day. Ghosts of Mars... John Carpenter... how’d I get so lucky?

Mouth was still asleep on the crusty couch, cuddling up with the Senior Semen’s pet octopus, Fluffy. I decided to do my part and take a shower, clean some of my crust off, to be somewhat presentable onset. It was a grueling experience... I need to bathe more often... but when I was finished, I went out to awake Mouth. I found him still cuddling Fluffy. He had a look of pure joy and happiness on his sleeping face. At first I thought he was dreaming about the day ahead of him, the coolness of it all, but then I noticed one of Fluffy’s tentacles was down his pants. I slapped him on the side of the head with my machete. "Bathe, you Octopi molesting bastard," I commanded and off to the showers he went, Fluffy still clutched in his arms.

It wasn’t much longer after that when the phone rang. It was Greg, telling us we were expected on set around 4 pm. We hung out with the Senior Seamen, got fed some cold soup thing, talked about Grandpa Seaman’s experiences as a WW2 Allied bomber pilot, was shown some old maps of Germany he used back in the day and I got to hear about how he bombed Berlin. Too cool.

All right, All right. Get to the set... I hear you. We drove up to the set, a warehouse that was converted into a soundstage in Rio Rancho, NM. We parked the Orca into the first available space and started wandering around the many trailers in the parking lot. We found a lackey who was spraying the concrete with a water hose and asked were the KNB trailer was. He pointed to a trailer directly behind us and continued his task of wetting the asphalt. As I approached the trailer, I noticed what looked like a big trash can/tub thing sitting just to the side of the door.

Interesting... I knocked on the door and was soon granted access. The trailer was about 6 feet wide and 20 feet long. Immediately upon entering we saw a guy being made up as a Martian Warrior by a man I had never met or seen before. At this point the lucky Martian had a bald cap on and the task at hand was blending the line of the bald cap on his skin. To our right was the pimp hang out section of the KNB trailer where Greg, looking very Dude-ish, was laid back watching a couple guys mixing a big bucket of blood.

There was idle chat as he showed us around the trailer. There was a kind of bench structure on the wall facing the doors with plastic bags holding different prosthetics hanging above them. The benches themselves were compartments, the seats lifting up revealing various special effects tools. The wall facing away from the door was mostly make-up area. Chairs, mirrors, shelves, drawers, etc. We were then shown the "Big Daddy Mars" prosthetic piece that was being worked on, then were introduced to the man making up the lucky Martian. His name was Craig Reardon. We exchanged quick hellos and he went back to his Martian.

"So," Greg said, "Let’s find Harry’s head for you." Remember that garbage bin looking thing we saw as we were approaching the trailer? Well, Greg took us out to that and started rummaging through the plastic bags within. We began seeing arms and various other body parts as he bent over and dug deeper into the bin. "Well," he said, "I see red in this bag, try this one," as he handed us a head in a plastic bag. Yes, indeed. There was red in the bag, but I couldn’t make out any features on the head inside. I quickly tore the plastic away and came face to face with a beardless, dismembered Harry head. Wow. It was totally surreal. I know this guy... erm... KNEW this guy. "You guys ready to go onset?" Mouth and I gave Greg a Hell Yeah at that and made one more trip inside the KNB Love Wagon, put Harry down and then headed off inside the building.

As we entered the building, the first thing we saw was wardrobe. We were surrounded by Martian clothes. Here’s Mouth to share a little of what he saw there:

THE FIRST MAJOR COSTUME WE SAW UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL WERE THE WARRIOR COSTUMES. THERE SEEMED TO BE HUNDREDS OF THESE DARK COLORED OUTFITS, EACH ONE TWISTED FROM A DARK PLACE IN A HUMAN’S SOUL. EVERY WARRIOR COSTUME WAS PERSONALIZED AND INDIVIDUAL, UTILIZING A WIDE VARIETY OF TEXTURES AND MATERIALS. FOR THE MOST PART, THEY LOOKED LIKE THEY USED TO BE LEATHER WORKMAN’S CLOTHES, TORN TO SHREDS AND ACCENTUATED WITH EVERYTHING FROM CHAINMAIL TO SPACESUIT ARMOR. THESE WERE WILD; THEY TOLD A STORY OF A VIOLENT, FUTURISTIC TRIBE OR CLAN, THE LIKES OF WHICH WOULD EAT THE GREAT HUMONGUS’S ARMY IN "THE ROAD WARRIOR" FOR BREAKFAST, MUNCH THE CRAZIES IN "ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK" FOR LUNCH AND SNACK ON JOHN CONNOR’S RAGTAG BUNCH OF FIGHTERS BEFORE TAKING ON EVERY SOLDIER ARNOLD SCHWARZENEGGER EVER COMMANDED IN FILM BATTLE.

THE PIERCINGS, PATCHINGS, CUSTOMIZATIONS, DRAWINGS, RIPPED PIECES AND ARMOR REINFORCEMENTS THAT ADORN THE WEAR OF THE WARRIORS WILL HELP PUT THEM ON THE PLAINS OF FILM BATTLE FOREVER.

WE ALSO SAW THE MARTIAN POLICE UNIFORMS FEATURED IN THE FILM. THEY WERE NOT THE DISARRAYED CRAZINESS OF THE WARRIOR OUTFITS, BUT A CLEAN-CUT FUTURISTIC GARB THAT COMMANDED AUTHORITY. OF COURSE, ANYTHING THAT PUTS NATASHA HENSTRIDGE IN A TIGHT BLACK LEATHER JACKET, A TIGHT BLUE TURTLENECK SWEATER, TIGHT BLACK PANTS, AND HAS A HARNESS FOR WEAPONRY IS OK BY ME! SERIOUSLY, THOUGH, THE DETAIL ON THESE UNIFORMS REALLY IMPRESSED ME, ESPECIALLY THE RANK AND IDENTIFICATION INSIGNIA, BOTH FEATURING A LARGE EMBROIDERED PLANET MARS. THEY WERE ALSO EFFICIENT LOOKING CLOTHES FOR FIGHTING AND OTHER POLICE WORK, SO THE BELIEVABILITY FACTOR WAS STILL IN EFFECT. ALL IN ALL, KEEP YOUR EYES OUT FOR THESE COSTUMES WHEN THE TIME COMES.

The Martian costume that caught my eye was for a female Martian Warrior. It had the breasts sewn in as part of the costume with various bits of chainmail and armor from the garb piercing through the nipples and chunks of titty before rejoining the fabric on the other side. Two words came to mind. "Ouch," and "Cool!" We were pulled from the costumes and followed Greg to the set. We entered in the warehouse and saw immediately a few very large, long structures. One was running parallel to us, the other horizontal. Think of it this way, if you were looking down from the ceiling of the warehouse, it’d make an L shape. Now, these two structures weren’t connected, so it’d be more like: I __

Both were mainly rectangular in shape with plain wood facing out. The structure running parallel to us, the I part of I ___ if you were, was the train set, which had a removable wall so the camera could pull back further to show us the action going on within the train. With the wall in place, the train interior would look completely sealed. The wall was off when we made our way into set. The whole structure was about 75-85 feet long and 7 or 8 feet wide.

Immediately to our left were the bathrooms, to our right, on our side of the second, unknown structure, was the Catering table... hmmm... food.... The mystery structure was huge! It ran almost the length of the humongus warehouse, about 100-150 feet long, but it was broken up into 3 or 4 segments. There was about 2-5 feet between each segment. As I passed in between the two structures, I saw I could look inside the elevated second, mystery structure and saw what appeared to be a tunnel that led on forever. It was a practical optical effect. With the right lighting and at the right level the camera could travel through the tunnel, which is only 100 or so feet long, but appears to go on for miles and miles. Awesome!

They were setting up their shot for the train set, however. There was a bank of monitors facing the train set and a few director’s chairs and wouldn’t you know... a director sitting in one. John Carpenter was sitting there, cigarette in one hand, in gray sweat bottoms, beat up sneakers and a loose t-shirt of some kind. I looked over to find Mouth shivering. I knew I had to keep an eye on him or I don’t even dare think of the consequences.

Greg tells us to hang back for a second, that he’ll see if John’s busy and if he wouldn’t mind meeting a couple of his friends. Mouth had calmed down a bit at this point, I was glad to see. Greg wanders off and we’re left by ourselves. Hmm... what to do? We were standing behind John and the row of playback monitors. About 10 feet to our left were another row of director’s style chairs with the names of the actors printed on them, all empty, the backs leaning up against the outside of the Endless Tunnel structure.

Mouth and I wandered to the back of the warehouse and saw at least 50 standup computer-looking things straight out of the interior of one of the spaceships from Plan 9 From Outer Space. They were just lining the walls. There was about 15 of them separate from the ones on the walls, side to side and back to back. Knobs and screens and buttons and keyboards and stuff that would make the beeps, the creeps and the sweeps were everywhere. I look over at Mouth and am glad to see he’s also sharing a look of "What the hell are these?"

We wander back to the action and I got my first look at Ice Cube as Desolation Williams. He was wearing a pretty tight black tank top and those black and gray camouflage pants. He had a goatee and his hair was a little more grown out than I can remember seeing before. The outfit should seem familiar to you. That’s right, give Cube a 5 o’ clock shadow, long hair, an eye patch and turn him white and you’ve got Snake Plisskin. Cube was a little shorter than I would have guessed, but I got all of a 10 second look at him before his 3 HUGE bald black bodyguards joined by his side, all dressed in black. So, we decided to give Cube some room and not go over and bug him.

Then in comes Natasha Henstridge. One word, above any others, came into mind at that point. GOOOODDDAMMNNNN!!!!!! Let me tell you, that is one beautiful woman. I had seen her in both of the Species films and expected her to be pretty in person, but not breathtakingly beautiful like the goddess that appeared before me that day. I was flabbergasted, but at least I was able to hold in my bodily fluids. Mouth wasn’t doing so well with his. I’m serious, the boy was... drooling all over the place.

Somewhere around this point Greg came back and led us over to John, cigarette still in hand. I’ve met John quickly once or twice before, at film festivals or conventions of some sort and he’s always just himself. He puts up no facade whatsoever. When Mouth and I were brought to him, he didn’t greet us with a huge, warm fake smile and tell us how glad he was to have us on set. He didn’t know who the hell we were. But he was friendly. He put down his never-ending cigarette and shook our hands as we introduced ourselves. He even went so far as to ask what we did for a living, but he was called away very quickly. A director’s work is never done on a movie set.

After that was done, Greg then took us over to the blinding vision that is Natasha Henstridge, who had taken a seat in her director’s chair. When I noticed where Greg was leading us, I made Mouth wipe the... drool from his... lip.

She was very friendly and talkative. Mouth admired her awesome Martian Police Uniform he mentioned above. Now, it’s widely acknowledged that Natasha is a beautiful woman, but she was in rare form that day. Relaxed, hair in a pony tail, looking very girl next door, but with ass-kicking Martian Cop garb. And her smile! Sweet Jesus! Needless to say, she had Mouth and myself in the palm of her hand from that point on.

As she was getting called away to do some lead actress prep. thing, Mouth nudged me and pointed to my breast pocket. I shook my head No, and let her wander off. You see, Mouth made me bring a piece of my movie memorabilia collection along. I have been going to sneak previews for films for a very long time. Sometimes they’ll hand out free stuff to the audience. Posters, stickers, buttons, the occasional soundtrack, hat or t-shirt. The usual rule of thumb about this stuff is the more free shit you get, the worse the movie is. I got a lot of free shit at the Species 2 screening. Among them was what looked like a large matchbook with the title on the front and the message, "Don’t Mate On the First Date" on the back. You open it up to reveal a green condom.

I told Mouth that I had that and was thinking about bringing it as a joke and he came back with a resounding "Oh, dude! You have to bring it! It’ll be classic!" So, I brought it along. Greg was leading us back to the KNB trailer to check on the Martian that was being made up. As we were walking back, I said, "Hey... um.. Greg? You’ve worked with Natasha for a while. How do you think she’d react to this?" as I handed him the "matchbook." He curiously turned it over in his hands before opening it.

He just shook his head and said one word. "No."

PT 2