Being an MMA fan and a cage fighter in training, I jumped at the chance at being in the movie “Red Belt” that was being filmed at the Pyramid in Long Beach State College.

It was a surprise to me that my diving buddy Nick has connections in Hollywood, especially since he is a self proclaimed atheist.

I know that being a Hollywood unknown, I probably would not be getting paid really well at first, but even a few thousand dollars would buy a lot of nice new diving equipment.

The movie “Red Belt” stars Randy “The Natural” Couture, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Rebecca Pidgeon, and additional mixed martial artists.

I wasn’t exactly certain what I would be doing, but since the studio wanted me when I didn’t even audition for a part, I knew it was probably going involve one of my many talents.

Nick told me to “show up June 5th at the Pyramid in Long Beach and I’ll meet you there.”

I trained extra hard the week before, just in case I had to do some cage fighting.

After following the yellow cryptic signs to the location, I showed up at 9 AM and walked over to the casting tent.

There were two guys with walkie talkies and clip boards standing by the entrance.

I approached them and announced my arrival.

They just looked at me.

I told them, “I’m here for the filming of Red Belt.”

They handed me a liability release form; I signed it and handed it back to them.

One of the guys looked at it and dumped it in a bucket full of other release forms.

I told him who I was again.

He didn’t seem to care and said, “Okay, grab breakfast over there and wait in the tent with everyone else.”

I ate cereal and a bagel — I felt I was being treated like a peon.

My friend Nick arrived.

I said, “They’re treating me like a peon — like an extra or something.”

Nick laughed, “That’s pretty much what you are.

“You aren’t even getting paid for this.”

I had a sickening feeling in my stomach.

After I regained my composure, I thought to myself, “Maybe I’ll be discovered here.

“John Wayne was discovered pushing props.”

9:30 AM rolled around and some guy introduced himself as the guy in charge of the “non-paid” extras.

He told us that we had a really small crew today and that we were going to get “lots of face time” in front of the cameras.

We were to be in the audience as a fight scene occurred.

So, I’m just in the audience? OK, it’s a start for me.

This guy also said that they were finishing up inside on some scenes from the previous Friday and that we would be inside on the set as soon as possible.

We were then lined up and marched to wardrobe where they looked at all of us en masse to make sure we were not wearing white shirts, logos, shorts, flip flops or were too ugly to be on camera.

Everyone passed — imagine how embarrassing it would have been if someone was pulled out of the line for being too ugly?

There were probably a little more than a hundred “nonpaid extras.”

We were marched back to the open tent to wait our turn on the set.

They had this “real comedian” named Dante who did his best to entertain us while we waited.

He told jokes, played some group games and did a pretty decent job entertaining us.

We waited… and waited.

Here’s me waiting…

…just like Nick is...

These pictures were taken at 10 AM, or 11 AM, or noon, or 1 PM — really it doesn’t matter.

This is what we did.

Now, for those who are thinking about becoming an extra in a movie, here’s what I have found out about the whole deal.

In a crowd scene, in front of the cameras you have the actors — stars and costars.

Behind them, you have the “background actors” — this is what I thought an “extra” was.

Behind the “background actors” are the “paid extras.”

Behind the “paid extras” are the “unpaid extras” — this was our group.

I overheard veteran “unpaid extras” bragging about their elbow or ear being in certain movies; others complained that they never even saw themselves.

Around 10:30 AM the portable toilets ran out of water and they instructed us to use the facilities in the stadium — but to be careful and quiet because they were filming.

At about 11 AM I ventured to unload my morning coffee.

I saw the set.

It was a boxing style ring with a bunch of manikins propped up as the audience.

They were filming some sort of crowd scene below.

I was able to watch part of it.

It was only about 10 seconds of action before they yelled “cut.”

I couldn’t see any of the actors, just the paid background actors.

About noon, Dante was starting to stretch his material thin.

We were assured that we would be on set at any time.

It had slightly rained earlier in the morning and the wind was now picking up and dumping all the water that had collected on the roof flaps.

About 1 PM the person in charge came out and said, “We’re still waiting for them to finish up and ‘make some scenes work.’

“We’ll be in as soon as possible.

“However, the fight scene won’t be filmed until tomorrow, so if you want to come back tomorrow, sign up here.”

Nick and I looked at each other.

The guy also yelled, “Remember, you guys have committed to be here until 5 PM, so I’m holding you guys to your word.”

I told Nick, “They get what they pay for. Fuck this place…”

Nick agreed.

We left for the toilets and kept walking….. to our vehicles and split.

My brother works for movies and TV as a video editor.

He used to be a prop maker, too.

He told me a log time ago, “If Hollywood can get you to work for free, that’s what they’ll pay you.

“There’s enough people who would be in movies just for the sake of doing so.”

Even though filming days apparently don’t always go like they did for us, I pretty much felt like a fool to take a day off to sit in a tent and wait.

So, no movie break, no pay, no cage fighting… just another day in my life.

While strolling through a used book store, I came across a $1 book entitled, “Exact Southern California Gold Locations.”

Being only a dollar, I figured that I couldn’t go wrong.

One of the known Gold locations was the East Fork of the San Gabriel River, a 90 minutes drive from where I live.

With Gold now trading at over $600 a troy ounce – the equivalent of a teaspoon full of Gold dust, I decided to recruit help and venture off to collect a few ounces or more.

Two ounces of Gold would buy me a very nice dive computer and even a dry suit!

I called my brother and diving buddy Nick and asked them if they wanted to help with the prospecting in return for a share of the Gold.

One of my potential constituents asked something along the lines of, “Gold prospecting? Is that where you drive up in to the mountains, hike for a couple hours to dig holes, separate gravel and pan sand while standing in a cold stream of water?”

“Uh, I will bring the beer,” I said.

Having nobody taking my offer, I stopped by Home Depot and talked to some day laborers.

“¿Usted tiene gusto de cavar para el oro?” I asked as best I could.

They just laughed.

But I soon noticed that a lot of them already had more Gold on their teeth than we could hope to find in one afternoon.

Sitting at a local pub, drinking a beer and pondering how I could manage the prospecting operation alone, I ran in to one of my neighbors, Ron – aka “Mr. Know It All.”

Ron said, “Sure I would love to go dig for some Gold, especially if you bring the beer.”

With the help of a few bar patrons, we pried Ron’s ass off the bar stool and sent him home to rest.

At 5 AM I picked him up and we were off to the East Fork of the San Gabriel River.

There’s nothing like mountain air in the early morning.

We parked at the end of the road, scratched my daily “Adventure Parking Pass” and shouldered the gear.

Ron carried the sluice box and bag of beer that kept dripping ice water down his leg.

We hiked an hour up river.

I carried the buckets, classifiers, shovels, pick, pans, metal detector and refining kit.

We hiked until Ron couldn’t walk anymore.

We found a part of the river that had receded a bit and was surrounded be trees and roots.

From what I understood about where Gold settles, this was the perfect place.

Ron started digging around a rock.

…as I set up and fed the sluice box.

We must have dug, classified and shoveled about 40 gallons of gravel through the sluice box that morning.

The many beer breaks relieved the back fatigue.

But next time, I’m going to bring gloves.

I think the gravel wore away several layers of the skin on my hand.

Also, this kind of gravel is heavy with iron, quartz and hopefully Gold.

After four hours of dig-shovel-classify-sluice-beer break, we had a good amount of concentrate to pan.

I think the last time I panned for Gold was as a kid at Knott’s Berry Farm.

Everyone has their own unique style to twirling a pan; I just had to find mine.

The concentrate is pretty heavy, but the Gold is heavier.

After a few minutes of twirling the pan – my pan has ridges on it to make the task easier – I was down to about a cup of concentrate with what looked to be some Gold color.

I bottled what was left in the pan to separate later at home with tweezers.

We made it back to the truck to rest and drink the last cold beer.

Once home, I took a magnet and lifted the iron filings away and picked out the Gold with tweezers.

We didn’t get much and what we did get had a high quartz concentration – Ron didn’t even care about splitting the Gold.

Even so, what I had, wouldn’t even cover the gas for the trip.

But I guess I am psycho, because I really did enjoy the trip.

I’ll find the mother load, one day.

From this day forward, Ron and I greet each other by saying, “What up digga’?”