It was a rare afternoon in June.
Golden sunlight bathed the city of New York, lazily spreading heat across the towering concrete jungle. The early summer breeze mingled with the warmth, creating a perfect atmosphere that made one long for a picnic on the grassy lawns of Central Park.
No doubt, it was an ideal afternoon for a picnic.
However, not everyone could afford such leisure. The city remained busy, with people rushing back and forth, immersed in their own worlds, working tirelessly.
Duncan Lewis was one of those hurrying through the streets. He was on his bike, a red pizza delivery box strapped to his back, weaving between cars, speeding through the city streets.
But traffic was not on his side.
Up ahead, the street was completely blocked—not just traffic, but a full road closure, causing Duncan to groan in frustration. His hopes of making a quick delivery were dashed.
Why was the street closed?
Not only was it closed, but a thick crowd gathered outside the yellow barricades, packed tightly, stretching as far as the eye could see.
There was no end in sight.
Duncan slammed on the brakes and stopped at the intersection, his mind racing, trying to figure out a detour that would allow him to deliver the pizza on time.
But there was a problem: it was only his second day on the job, and he wasn't familiar with the streets yet.
He had thought that delivering food was just about strength and speed, but now he realized planning routes was also an art.
"Damn it!" Duncan cursed under his breath.
He glanced around, trying to figure out the layout, but he was still lost. He didn't even know how far the street closure extended. What was he supposed to do?
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the crowd nearby. They didn't seem to be watching a spectacle—they were in line?
Just then, a man in the crowd, grinning, caught Duncan's eye. Duncan approached him. "Excuse me, what's going on here? How far does the street closure go?"
The man was in his forties, with a shiny bald spot on his forehead. He had an ordinary appearance, someone you'd lose in a crowd, but his constant smile made him stand out. Somehow, he immediately captured Duncan's attention.
"John Landis," the man introduced himself, extending his hand.
Duncan, confused, shook his hand. "What's happening here?"
Without waiting for Duncan to explain, John began to answer.
"Ah, this is the set for 'Spider-Man 2.' Today's the first official day of filming, though shooting won't start for another three hours."
"So, are you here for the open call for extras?" John asked.
Duncan froze, about to turn and leave, but the question caught his ear. "Are you an actor?"
John smiled. "Of course. I've done cameos in over forty movies and TV shows: 'Six Feet Under,' 'The Sopranos,' 'Rush Hour,' 'Terminator 2.' I've seen all kinds of stars on set."
"If you want, you could join in too."
"You know, you might even meet Anson Wood and Kirsten Dunst here. Well, at least Anson. I'm not sure if Kirsten's filming today."
Duncan, wide-eyed, forgot he was supposed to leave.
John enjoyed moments like this, as if a spotlight had found him. His grin grew even wider.
"'Spider-Man,' you've heard of it, right? Half of Hollywood auditioned for 'Spider-Man 2.' Everyone wanted to be part of the sequel, even just for a brief appearance—it's a rare chance."
"All the actors I know auditioned for it."
"Every. Single. One."
"Because we all know this movie is going to be a hit. Everyone's going to watch it, and this is your best chance to get noticed on the big screen. You wouldn't want to miss that."
"Without a doubt, this is the biggest event of the year. All the actors have been waiting for this day, hoping to be part of it."
"Even as a background extra, you never know how you might appear in the movie—it's like playing 'Where's Waldo'—a surprise!"
Unconsciously, a small crowd gathered around them, including others waiting in line, their faces lighting up with excitement. It felt like a party atmosphere was brewing.
Duncan couldn't help but laugh along. "Everyone? Even Brad Pitt?"
John burst out laughing. "Maybe Brad Pitt wanted to be part of it, but he was too shy to admit it."
Everyone laughed heartily, the atmosphere growing even more lively.
Duncan joined in the laughter. He was tempted to stay, but then remembered his job. "I wish I could quit this stupid job and join you, but I really need to finish this delivery."
He patted the pizza box strapped to his back.
John didn't push him further. "What a shame."
"The whole street's blocked. The permit was granted three months ago. This closure stretches out for three blocks in all directions."
"If you want to find another route, you'll need to go quite a bit further."
Duncan exhaled deeply. "I guess I better get going, or I'll be late."
He glanced one last time at the massive crowd ahead, disappointment visible on his face. Reluctantly, he turned to leave.
Nearby, another young man on a skateboard, wearing a cap, watched Duncan leave, then turned to John with a question.
"So, how can I get to Corsi Street and Grand Street?"
John sighed. "Oh, God, that's inside the closed area. Do you work there?"
"The closure isn't just for cars; pedestrians can't get through either. But if you live or work in one of the buildings inside, you should have a pass. You can ask around."
"See that black luxury trailer over there?"
The skateboarder followed John's pointed finger. "What about it?"
"That's Anson Wood's personal trailer. He's the heart and soul of the whole production. I'm just warning you, don't go to the wrong place. The tent in front of the trailer is the check-in spot, where the crew gathers. You can ask about getting through, but don't be mistaken for someone you're not."
"Wow, that thing's huge. It looks like a Transformer," the skateboarder marveled.
The crowd burst into laughter again, with someone shouting, "Welcome to Hollywood!" which was quickly met with teasing corrections, "Manhattan," and "Geography idiot!"
John beamed at the skateboarder. "He deserves the star treatment. He's the hottest young talent in Hollywood right now. But hey, who knows? Maybe you'll have your own trailer someday."
More laughter and whistles erupted, and the atmosphere became even more festive.
The skateboarder nodded gratefully. "Hope today's shoot goes well."
With that, he kicked off on his skateboard, gliding past the long line toward the front. All eyes followed him as he zoomed ahead.
Someone in the crowd whispered, "Doesn't that guy look a lot like Anson from the back?"