2 Dollar Productions

{Editor's Note: This is the final entry 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.}

When my alarm went off at 5:15 a.m., I stumbled out of a delirious sleep, unable to comprehend where I was and what I needed to do.

It happens occasionally when you're somewhere unfamiliar, and you wake up to a pervasive mystery about your surroundings. It can be disorienting, and coupled with the early hour, it took me a few minutes to recall my week of model mania.

A week spent predominately shirtless in front of a rotating group of men, days consumed with finding my next meal of chicken breasts and rice, and a constant struggle to find a public restroom in New York City as there is a dearth for a place where everyone is drinking water or coffee or both at nearly all times.


Where were these people pissing?

I frequently wondered about this, but never broached the subject with anyone, so the truth is still shrouded in mystery.

But it was time to go home. The house was deathly quiet as I had already discovered that models tended to enjoy watching bad movies late into the night and then sleeping even later before heading to a casting or to the gym.

I was headed to the airport, and as I slowly walked my luggage downstairs, I passed remnants of the week that was: the giant shower built for comfort, a discarded gallon jug of distilled water, the two puppies sleeping quietly, jars of clay deep-pore cleansing masks, boatloads of pomade, and model cards pasted at random along nearly any empty ktichen surface.


Nobody stirred as I walked out the front door and headed toward the train station, which would take me to the airport and eventually back to Austin.

New York City loomed in the distance as the train pulled out, lit up brightly and not nearly as intimidating as I found it to be during the daylight, when the sun and the crowds and constant motion could be overwhelming if you weren't on top of your game. The city throbbed with life, and I finally understood why people talked in such glowing terms about the place. But I wouldn't be moving there anytime soon.

Modeling is a young man's game. This was solidifed after the previous day, when Mr. T had asked the agent why he wasn't sending me to the Abercrombie & Fitch casting call with him.

"He's too old," the agent replied. And that was that.


Modeling also required a hunger that I simply didn't have as well as circumstances that my life didn't fit neatly into. If I was in my early/mid 20s with a job that I could step in and out of with ease, then the itch to re-locate and throw myself into that scene would have been much stronger because if you want to model or act, then New York City is the nexus point for those industries.

The West Coast might boast more movie roles, but New York was the vein where castings happened and people were discovered and where they hustled around town in hopes that the next open call session would be "The One" - or at least the one that paid part of your rent that month.

It's a tough gig. But it could be done. That's what I learned, and what I plan to take away from the entire ordeal.

This all began inside a ballroom at a fancy hotel in Dallas nearly a year and a half ago. Several thousand people had paid top-dollar to hear my agent and others speak about the industry. I was there for free through a random series of events, and I recall the agent lecturing the audience and telling them that most had no shot at making it to New York.

He was the speaker who was lined up to deliver the "grim realities" of the trade. He told me afterwards that he usually found a handful of potential clients at these events, which happened all year long in cities throughout the United States.

After our initial meeting which established that I had potential, I decided to try and buck the odds and wrangle a free trip to New York, something to prove that I had the discipline to take things to a higher level and that I could compete when I got there.

So as my plane left the East Coast headed for Austin, I felt good knowing that I made it to the Show, and I validated for myself that I could play in the game.

And that's enough for me.

-BDS