I was on a show called Strange Days for A&E back before they went all Ducky. We traveled around with Bob Saget, this is another memorable tale from the trip.

One episode called for Bob to join a motorcycle club called Iron Order. What I didn’t realize, when I signed onto the project, was that the crew would also pretty much become a biker club, only we rode in mini-vans. We filmed and drank our way from Louisville Kentucky to Daytona Florida. One of the highlights was a party where the bikers were trying to feel out the reality show crew to see if we could hang. We drank them out of apple pie moonshine, I’m proud to say, in every clubhouse we stopped at.  Hollywood types may not be the toughest guys out there, but we don’t fuck around with substance abuse. I think my liver needed a separate seat on the flight home.

At the party we met a character in the club who was also named Whiskey. This guy was a madman and great at parties. He wore a Bowie knife in a holster with a handle made from his dead dog’s leg. Hell, come to think of it I don’t remember there being confirmation that the dog had expired, maybe there’s a three-legged dog somewhere.

Whiskey was not a big fan of showers, or rules, or personal boundaries. He kept trying to kiss my second audio mixer on the lips. He’s not gay, that’s just how he lets you know you’ve been accepted. It’s sort of like Don Corleone… if he was terrifying in less of an “I can have you killed” kind of way, and more in a “did he brush his teeth this week?” kind of way.

The memorable for me moment of the evening came when our director of photography Tim walked over to myself and Whiskey… or Whiskey and Whiskey. Whiskey (the biker) was holding a full-sized bottle of Crown Royal and making everyone within his reach drink it with him. I looked at the bottle as he held it out in his gloved hand.

There was about two inches of booze left in it. I stared at the amber nectar. There was flotsam floating in it; not a little speck, it was like a neglected sea monkey tank, or a pool on a windy day in fall. “Iron Order” I toasted loudly and carefully inverted the bottle and let an air bubble out of my pursed lips to give the impression of a healthy swig. “now you!” Whiskey grabbed the bottle and trust it at Tim. “Iron Order” Tim barked and as I was giving him my desperate “look at the bottle you fool” face he downed it. I gagged a little just watching it.

Sorry Tim, I should have saved you, I should have knocked the bottle from your lips but the mocking from the bikers would have been rough. I saw the look on your face and you’re more man than me for keeping that down. You sir are made of stern stuff.

Iron Order!