Ketchikan, Alaska
Damn, I made the right decision. There’s not a lot of room in the back of this plane. This is the same way Lance travels. Charter.
You don’t go through security. You don’t check baggage. You just walk up to your righteous bird and step aboard. The Director, King Lear, sits at the table in the middle of the plane. I ride up front, facing backwards. There are 10 of us onboard, plus crew.
The plane, a Gulfstream G-2E cruises at .785 of the speed of sound at an altitude of 45,000 feet. It has a range of 3,600 miles and short of Air Force 1, where President Bush actually sets up his bicycle on a trainer and pedals through the air while thinking about whom to bomb next, it is the finest way to travel there is.
As the plane descends into Ketchikan, we are treated to a view of some amazing scenery. There is a thin ribbon of road that surrounds this unspoiled place. The rest is all trees and water and great googly-moogly, there are salmon everywhere.
The sign says “Salmon Capital of The World” and if you wanted to catch one or two, all you need to do is dip your hands into the stream.
To travel with an A-list Director like Pytka is to breath the rarest of air. There are 25 people on his crew ready to turn every wish of his into reality.
The limp he displayed earlier in the week, the crankiness, the hesitation vanishes when the camera comes out. He has life. He strides toward the camera, looks at the shot and says, “This is so fucking corny. What lens you got Bone?”
His AC, assistant cameraman Jason has been with him for 17 years. When he was 18, he had his way with Madonna. No kidding. Bone replies, “That’s the 50.”
“Gimme the 35.”
Seconds later, the lens is changed and the director is pleased with his work. The five houses, the countless Ferraris, the wine seller that is listed in the Guinness Book of World Records, the 130-foot vintage yacht, the Riva Aquarama, the chateaux in France, the art, none of it makes him as happy as doing his thing. Making beautiful commercials.
He ribs everyone, including the client. At lunch, Pytka makes our talent tell stories.
Dinner is an epic event. The table is set for everyone on the crew, between 15 and 18 people. Pytka glances at the menu and orders appetizers for the table. Two of everything!
He reviews the wine list and orders every bottle of wine on it. The good times are flowing, and the client is reminiscing all of the good laughs and great meals he’s had with Pytka over the years.
Larry Bird once said something along the lines of “Pytka treats everyone the same. Like shit. That’s why we love the guy.”
He’s a rare man, one who has told Michael Jordan, Larry Bird, and corporate titans from IBM to GE to Pepsi to FUCK OFF.
The fact that people come back to him speaks to his talent. He doesn’t negotiate. He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t use buzzwords like “manage expectations.” He does it his way, or he just doesn’t do it.
I give in to the vibe of the group, indulge in one rum and coke, eat fried food, and even have a bite of dessert. My God, how could I do such a thing? Not so much as a Coca-Cola has crossed my lips in six months, and here I am consuming all the evil shit on earth, all at once. Sometimes you have to live a little.
You don’t go through security. You don’t check baggage. You just walk up to your righteous bird and step aboard. The Director, King Lear, sits at the table in the middle of the plane. I ride up front, facing backwards. There are 10 of us onboard, plus crew.
The plane, a Gulfstream G-2E cruises at .785 of the speed of sound at an altitude of 45,000 feet. It has a range of 3,600 miles and short of Air Force 1, where President Bush actually sets up his bicycle on a trainer and pedals through the air while thinking about whom to bomb next, it is the finest way to travel there is.
As the plane descends into Ketchikan, we are treated to a view of some amazing scenery. There is a thin ribbon of road that surrounds this unspoiled place. The rest is all trees and water and great googly-moogly, there are salmon everywhere.
The sign says “Salmon Capital of The World” and if you wanted to catch one or two, all you need to do is dip your hands into the stream.
To travel with an A-list Director like Pytka is to breath the rarest of air. There are 25 people on his crew ready to turn every wish of his into reality.
The limp he displayed earlier in the week, the crankiness, the hesitation vanishes when the camera comes out. He has life. He strides toward the camera, looks at the shot and says, “This is so fucking corny. What lens you got Bone?”
His AC, assistant cameraman Jason has been with him for 17 years. When he was 18, he had his way with Madonna. No kidding. Bone replies, “That’s the 50.”
“Gimme the 35.”
Seconds later, the lens is changed and the director is pleased with his work. The five houses, the countless Ferraris, the wine seller that is listed in the Guinness Book of World Records, the 130-foot vintage yacht, the Riva Aquarama, the chateaux in France, the art, none of it makes him as happy as doing his thing. Making beautiful commercials.
He ribs everyone, including the client. At lunch, Pytka makes our talent tell stories.
Dinner is an epic event. The table is set for everyone on the crew, between 15 and 18 people. Pytka glances at the menu and orders appetizers for the table. Two of everything!
He reviews the wine list and orders every bottle of wine on it. The good times are flowing, and the client is reminiscing all of the good laughs and great meals he’s had with Pytka over the years.
Larry Bird once said something along the lines of “Pytka treats everyone the same. Like shit. That’s why we love the guy.”
He’s a rare man, one who has told Michael Jordan, Larry Bird, and corporate titans from IBM to GE to Pepsi to FUCK OFF.
The fact that people come back to him speaks to his talent. He doesn’t negotiate. He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t use buzzwords like “manage expectations.” He does it his way, or he just doesn’t do it.
I give in to the vibe of the group, indulge in one rum and coke, eat fried food, and even have a bite of dessert. My God, how could I do such a thing? Not so much as a Coca-Cola has crossed my lips in six months, and here I am consuming all the evil shit on earth, all at once. Sometimes you have to live a little.
posted by joe berkeley at 7:13 AM
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