Recently, I joined the cast of a new television adventure series titled “I70 KNIGHTS*” The show is packed with action, danger, and enough post-apocalyptic mayhem to make an insurance adjuster break into a cold sweat. The script includes car chases, gunfire, blood, explosions, and even an actor being set on fire! Production required twelve-hour shooting days stretching from dusk until dawn.
If you were to ask whether any of this made me nervous, I would have to answer with a loud and enthusiastic HELL YES.
But not for the reasons you might think.
I wasn’t worried about the car chases. I wasn’t worried about the bullets. I wasn’t worried about the blood, the explosions, or even the actor being transformed into a human tiki torch. No, the thing that terrified me most was being up all night.
You see, I have reached that stage of life where staying awake until midnight requires careful planning and possibly a note from my doctor.
By 9:00 every evening, my wife and I are comfortably settled into bed watching true-crime documentaries. These programs are specifically designed to convince viewers that every neighbor is secretly hiding bodies in their basement. Once the program concludes, we check the locks, make sure Ed the Cat hasn’t joined a criminal enterprise, and promptly go to sleep.
This system has worked flawlessly for years.
Now suddenly I was expected to stay awake until sunrise.
I haven’t voluntarily stayed up all night since college, and even then, it was largely because somebody showed up with a fresh case of beer at 3:00 a.m. and convinced us that sleep was a conspiracy.
As filming approached, I became increasingly concerned. How was I supposed to remain conscious all night? What if I forgot my lines? What if I started speaking fluent gibberish at 3:00 a.m.? What if the production crew discovered me asleep behind a stack of props, clutching a pillow I had fashioned from wardrobe pieces?
The younger actors seemed completely unfazed by the whole thing. They talked casually about shooting through the night as though this were a normal human activity. At their age, midnight apparently feels like lunchtime. At my age, midnight feels like a medical emergency.
I kept imagining the production schedule. Somewhere around 2:00 a.m., an actor would be set on fire while crew members calmly discussed camera angles. Everyone would be focused on the burning human being while I stood nearby thinking, “Yes, that’s unfortunate, but has anyone considered that it’s TWO O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING?”
I spent weeks preparing for what I assumed would be the greatest endurance test of my life. Explorers crossing Antarctica have probably felt less anxiety.
Then something miraculous happened.
When I’d finished shooting my scenes, I learned I would be wrapped by approximately 10:30 p.m.
Ten-thirty.
Not 3:00 a.m.
Not dawn.
Not sometime after society had collapsed and been rebuilt.
Ten-thirty.
At that moment, I experienced all five stages of grief in reverse.
I cannot adequately describe the joy I felt.
People who win the lottery are excited, certainly. But they don’t get to put on pajamas by 11:00.
Mountaineers reaching the summit of Everest feel triumphant, but they’re still stuck on a mountain. I, on the other hand, was headed toward a comfortable hotel bed.
For weeks, I had mentally prepared for an all-night battle against exhaustion. I had worried about caffeine consumption, memory loss, and the possibility of wandering into the woods in a sleep-deprived stupor. And then, just like that, I was done.
I delivered my scenes, thanked the cast and crew, climbed into my car, and drove back to my hotel while normal, civilized people were still awake.
Meanwhile, somewhere behind me, actors were still filming firefights, explosions, dramatic confrontations, and scenes involving actual flames.
Good luck to them.
I was headed back to my hotel room for the kind of deep, meaningful relationship a man can only have with a mattress.
The funny thing is that the experience turned out to be fantastic. The cast was wonderful, the production team was outstanding, and the show looks like it’s going to be a thrilling adventure. I’m genuinely looking forward to filming the remaining episodes.
That said, if the producers ever ask me whether I’d rather spend another night shooting until dawn or be the guy who gets set on fire, I already know my answer.
Please hand me the gasoline.
A recent cartoon sparked a reaction I wasn’t expecting: hate mail, outrage, and even death threats!
All because I poked a little fun at Pride Month.
In this video, I talk about the cartoon, the backlash, and why we’ve reached a point where even humor can trigger a complete meltdown.
All joking aside, this is going to be a great series!
I play Turntable, a post-apocalyptic, trouble-shooting Radio Knight who discovers that when modern technology fails, sometimes the old ways are the best ways.
Turns out the apocalypse still needs radio people!
The cast and crew have been incredible, and I can’t wait to film the remaining episodes.
Be sure to check out I-70 KNIGHTS on IMDb, and stay tuned for details on where and when you’ll be able to watch it!
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This week’s guests on The Right Mind Show!
• Heather Overstreet— The rising social media and Republican star gives us the scoop on her recent data center visit!
• Dave Robertson — Modern Day Paul Revere and NOW political candidate!
• PLUS! An enlightening visit from the coal miner’s son himself — Ethan Da Sales Guy!
Thanks for reading Get Todd.
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As always, thank you for reading, sharing, commenting, and being part of this wonderfully dysfunctional community.
Until next time,
— Todd
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