2 Dollar Productions

{Editor's Note: This is the fourth in a 5-part series chronicling my time spent in New York living the life of a model and waging a battle against food, geography and a plethora of people who all had opinions on how I should/did look. The names have been changed for obvious reasons.}

By Wednesday, I had already met with photographers and agents, eaten the same chicken and rice meal at the same restaurant 3 different times, and managed to avoid getting lost in the big, bad city.

But I knew that all my work would culminate with several appointments that day as I had a plethora of Men's magazines to meet, and they were scattered across New York City. Luckily, my sense of the area's grid-like structure was improving along with the weather, a development that allowed me to log some serious walking in the 45 degree weather.

The sun was shining brightly, and it felt damn good to be at the end of the road.

My day started near 47th and Broadway at a nice building which housed a magazine company with nearly a dozen titles under it's banner. The offices were plush, and as I sat in the waiting area, I could feel the administrative assistant checking me out from her desk, passing judgement and then the same thing happening from the other models waiting to be "seen" as we peered at each other in discreet ways while idly thumbing through magazines.

I was no better as I quickly found myself sizing up other guys, a quality I can't say I was fond about nor wanted to cultivate as I'll take a pass when it comes to women, however, life's too short to wonder what kind of bicep some dude in an Izod sweater is packing.

When my name was called, I went upstairs and into one of the smaller rooms in the place.

It was spartan and had a clinical quality to it which made sense as I filled out my vital stats and then took off my shirt and pants as several Polaroid were snapped to attach to my file or perhaps just keep for personal use by the staff. Ha.

The evaluator was professional, and I admit that it felt damn good to have him tell me that "you have a great body" as this was one of the top magazines in the United States for fitness. But he then confirmed what I was thinking, and that was that I would have to be local to really do work for them.

Most of the time, they have little advance warning about upcoming shoots, and it makes no sense to fly someone to New York when they can cast it with people easily accessible in the city.

I agreed, and gave him a spiel about having flexibility in my work and that I could be on a plane quickly, but I think we both knew the chances were slim unless re-location was an option, an unlikely chance but I was still happy about the positive feedback.

Another appointment in the area went off in a similar manner, and then I found myself with a few hours to kill before my last appointment at an office inside the Empire State Building.


I decided to wander off near 47th and Broadway, the heart of the tourist Mecca it seemed, as people streamed by everywhere as I stood across from the W hotel and sipped a Starbucks coffee. People were clustered together and moved in waves.

Broadway play tickets were being hocked, souvenirs burst from every possible crevice and the collective mass all seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere, even if their final destination was Nowhere Special.

But I took it all in, and walked aimlessly until I found a good place to sit in Greeley Square with the sun on my face.



Eventually, it was time to head to my final appointment, and it wasn't disappointing as I arrived at the office and found Mr. T was already there as he was meeting with the editor and publisher about a potential shoot as well. And as we laughed and talked about things, a pair of 18-year-old kids walked in and said that our agent had sent them down since he knew we were already here.

We soon found ourselves seated inside a conference room with the editor, a solid and decent guy who quickly disappeared to find the publisher, an older Asian man who entered the room as the ultimate arbitrator concerning our bodies (even though it was apparent that he had never lifted a weight in his entire life).

We each stood one-by-one and went to the corner of the room where we took off our shirts and dropped our pants around our ankles. Mr. T went first, and I could see the teenagers eyes go a little wide from the strangeness of the situation.

It's not everyday that you find yourself with your pants around your ankles and having your mandhood critiqued by an older man with bad eyesight and broken English - at least high school wasn't like that for me.

After the kids went, the older Asian man turned to me and said "You teenager too?"

Mr. T laughed as he knew my actual age, and I replied with a smile, "I am if you want me to be."

But that kind of humor fell on deaf ears, but despite that fact, I got some of the best scores, especially for the abs, legs and back, but I got dinged for not having big enough shoulders and for standing too rigidly.

The final verdict was the same as the rest as a re-location was needed, although this one did have a glimmer of hope as they do work with a photographer in Dallas and we talked about doing a shoot down there at some point in the future.

We'll see, but I'm not holding my breath.

Mr. T and I headed back to the agency following our inspection, and were informed that we were being sent to an acting class that night. With a few hours to kill, Mr. T decided to hit the gym and I elected to go somewhere I had been eyeing all week - a restaurant called "Burgers and Cupcakes."


Now that name says it all.

It was the best meal I've had all year as I sat alone at a corner booth, and ordered: A venison burger with grilled onions, pepper jack cheese, and turkey bacon, French fries and a chocolate peanut-butter marshmallow cupcake for desert.

The meal was so good that I nearly became physically aroused before leaving with a full stomach, and an uncluttered mind.

This would be helpful for acting class I reasoned. But nothing came to my aid in helping my inner thespian as it was just damn hard work.

I now have an entirely new respect for anyone in the acting field as we were doing exercises for commercials and I couldn't even convince myself that I would swtich toothpaste brands based on my line readings.

But it was my first acting class, and if I was moving to New York, I would take many more because there was money in commercials and people sought it out like bloodhounds.

I wanted to seek out more cupcakes, however, Mr. T and I caught the train back to the Model House as I needed to pack my things because it was nearly time to head back to Austin.

-BDS