This is Colin.

“Tell me about that idea you had again.” I say to Nabil as we walk to the Motel.

“Well, it’s about an Arab-American guy who can’t get a job, and it’s about his struggle to make it.”

I was a little interested at this point, but still in a bad mood, owing to the fact that we were going to be stuck in Florida for the night. So, Nabil and I made it to the Motel. We checked into our tiny, smelly room with rock hard beds and fornication stained sheets. Glamorous to say the least. And that night we had the first creative meeting about the short “Arab in America.” I don’t know what exactly we spoke of, or what specific idea’s were thrown around that night… but one can surmise that a work of genius was being created in that stifling motel room.

The next morning came with the sounds of birds chirping, and rays of sunshine beaming down upon our heads. We checked out of the motel and headed over to the Shepboys to see how Nabil’s car had made out… And just when you think a day can’t get any better, we were in for a treat. We arrived to Nabil’s car in the parking lot, and see broken glass around the rear passenger side.

“What the fishsticks?!!” Nabil ejaculated. Except… he didn’t use the word “fishsticks” but you can use your imagination and fill in the expletive of your own choosing.

It’s moments like these when the comforting words of good friends can strike you to the core and move you. Words can make even the worst possible scenario seem trival and insignificant. So I chose my words to comfort Nabil very carefully.

“That sucks, dude.”

With the car fixed and the window broken, we headed back to Savannah – With no radio – Which, when you’re driving with Nabil and he is in charge of choosing the musical selection… having no radio really isn’t such a bad thing. So again, we had time to let the creative juices flow during the music-less two hour car ride. Again, who knows what was said or who came up with what idea. The point is, by the time we reached Savannah we had a story! And as we got home to our apartment we knew that this idea was a winner! We decided we must get to work on writing the script as soon as humanly possible!!

So after a nap, and leisurely dinner we did what we set out to do! Write the script!! We wrote for days… sleeping only when our bodies would shut down and we fell to the floor… we ate only when necessary, and bathed regularly… because like it says in the Qur’an… “Cleanliness is next to Godliness”… maybe not the Qur’an… but something, somewhere says it… I’m sure of it.  Anyway… we had a first draft! And it was good! I brought the funny! and Nabil brought the… the arab stuff??… no… Nabil brought something! And what he brought was good!

So now that we had a script. All we had to do was get it made…. hmmm. That should be easy right??

This is Nabil.

This post continues on from The History of Arab (pt. 1). To go to that post, click here.

After coming home from work, I quickly sat down at the computer and banged out the first two pages of the short Arab in America screenplay.  I had this AMAZING idea about starting the movie in an airport and having the main character, Osama (based on my brother, myself, and my uncle), get into a world of trouble because of his name, race, and religion.  I was pretty confident that I created a work of comedic genius with the scene (but time would soon tell that I was one of about 14 other people who also had the same general idea).

After finishing the first two pages of the screenplay, I quickly called Tim Bryan (my DP that hated my first script) and sent him the file.  “Do you like it?  Am I on to something?” After Tim’s out-right rejection of the first script, I was in desperate need of approval.

This is Tim.

Long pause…  “This is good.  You are on to something.  See?  Isn’t this better than that piece of crap you handed me earlier?”  For the record, The Weinstien Company just purchased a film VERY SIMILAR to Assassinate George (the extensive cast makes me weep at night).

Tim’s validation was all that I needed to continue.  With his approval, I could’ve sat down and banged out the entire script fueled by my pure adrenaline.  Unfortunately, for yours truly, I had to pick up my roommate from the airport…

For those of you that haven’t made the trip to the Jacksonville International Airport, it is a sad and lonely journey.  There’s no need to worry about getting caught speeding for you won’t be going faster than 50 miles per hour the entire way.  The reason?  Constant construction.  I have no idea what kind of upgrade/fix requires seven years of construction, but the Georgia and Florida Departments of Transportation have figured out a way to elongate any task given to them.

During the entire trip, my middle school and high school observations kept coming back to me.  Whenever I had a mental image of myself as a successful Business-man/Celebrity/President-of-the-United-States/etc. the first thing that would go through my mind was, “You’d have to get your name changed before you can do any of those things…”  As a kid, that can be a really big bummer.  I mean, if my father (the smartest man I’ve ever met) can’t get a job because of his name, how could I?  How could my brother, Osama?  How could any Middle Easterner?

And then it hit me: the main character in my movie, Osama, will change his name in order to get a job…  and it’ll work.  What a great way to get the point across!?!

This is Colin.

Whenever an idea finally gets materialized and the creative juices start to flow, something always comes up to ruin your progress.  In this instance, that something was my roommate, Colin Ferri.

Colin is a good guy…  He’s um…  an acquired taste.  Like, he makes lots of funny jokes at other people’s expense, he’s got this superiority complex that’s halarious as much as it is ironic, and he’s the second biggest critic I’ve ever met (that crown would have to go to my brother, Osama).  We’d been roommates at this point for over a year at this point and I was just picking him up from a school break.

Being high off of creative juices, I decided to pitch what I had to Colin about my emerging screenplay. “Okay, so listen to this idea I’ve been coming up with for my senior project…”  I could see Colin’s eyes beginning to roll…  This is not how he wanted to spend the two hour drive after he’d been on a plane for four hours.  “It’s about an Arab guy named Osama…”

“Oh boy…”

“No man, hear me out.  It’s about an Arab guy named Osama, and he’s really smart….”

“We get it, Nabil…  it’s a movie about you.”

“Come on man, stop.  Let me finish.  Okay, Osama just graduated at the top of his class, or something (still didn’t have the details worked out), and he tries to get a job, but he can’t because no one will hire him because his name is Osama.”

“Okay…?”

“And so, he thinks that if he just changes his name, he can get a job, and he does.”  That is, regrettably, all I had.

This is where the critic part comes into play…  “That’s all you have?!?  An Arab guy named Osama has a hard time getting a job and he changes his name and gets one?!?  That’s it?!?  That’s like six minutes of a movie!”  This was true, however…

“Well, it’s a work in progress.  Obviously it’s gonna need to be developed some more.”

“I don’t know, sounds lame” Colin is a master of the one sentence review.

“Trust me, this isn’t lame…” This was awesome. “This is awesome”.

“Whatever, Nabil.  I’ll take your word for it.  Can you turn on the air?  The constant wind in my face is getting my hair all messed up.” (Colin actually didn’t say this, but he would have if we were in a movie…)  “And who is this band your playing in the stereo?  They’re really awesome!” (Colin actually didn’t say this, either, but he was thinking it)

All of a sudden, the indicators on my dashboard light up…  all at the same time.  I whip out the phone to call my dad (because when it comes to cars, I don’t know ANYTHING).

Colin starts to panic.

Dad tells me it’s probably the alternator belt and I need to get a service center pretty quickly.  So I tell him that I love him and we make it to a ShepBoys.  And since it’s the end of the day, of course they’re going to have to do it the next morning which means…  Motel 5.  I know, I know…  But I’m a broke Karrabba’s server.  At least they leave the light on for ya’!

At this point, Colin is pretty peeved…  But I don’t know why!  If I didn’t have to pick his butt up from the airport, than I’d be in my own bed in Savannah right now…  Or better yet, on the pc finishing my screenplay.  Whatever.  So, I turn on the tv to try to ignore the entire situation.

Finally Colin says something, “So about your movie idea…”

Maybe this whole ordeal wasn’t a bad omen, afterall…

This is Colin.

I remember the day Nabil pitched Assassinate George to me. Much like Tim Bryan, I didn’t care for the idea that much. I didn’t go so far as to say it was a “Dumb Fan-Film” but I wasn’t on board. “It’s a funny concept Nabil, but I don’t know. You should make something else.”

“Why make something else? This is a great idea! Two friends driving across the country to kill George Lucas! It’s great!”

Well, needless to say – but I’ll say it anyway – Assassinate George was never made.

So Nabil went back to thinking about new ideas. I went home to Rhode Island and began thinking about new things as well. I wanted to make a short based on Macbeth, but in modern times and revolving around a mob family. I had a script written and everything! Well that script had too much prose and descriptive paragraphs that would take up half the page. Nabil didn’t much care for the idea either. (It’s just because he thinks Macbeth is Shakespeare’s worst play. But we all know that his worst is Much Ado About Nothing.) But I digress.

Summer break was over. I was about to fly back to school. Nabil agreed to pick me up at the Jacksonville airport (Flying directly into Savannah will cost you an arm and a leg). Jacksonville is about two hours away from Savannah. Nabil picked me up and we were on our way. I have to tell you that road trips with Nabil are a scary experience. If you ever get a chance to have one with him… I suggest you run away as fast as you can. With the constant looking at his iPod to change songs every 2 minutes and talking on the phone to whichever high-school-friend/girlfriend/parent/girl-he-likes-but-doesn’t-really-like/anyone-who-calls, there is not much safe driving involved. Anyway, Nabil picks me up, we’re driving along in the August heat and Nabil decides to put his A/C on, which is something I’m not opposed to (I get hot very easily, and sweat a lot. Not ‘a lot’ a lot, but more than most perspiratory humans).

Ahhh. Fresh, cool air blowing in my face. Right now I don’t mind the crappy music Nabil is playing. I’ve got chill air from the vent blowing my hair back. Nothing can go wrong. This is a great feeling. Wait. No it isn’t! The air, that was once cool, is now hot. This is not cool (in both senses of the word)! Suddenly everything on Nabil’s dashboard turns off and we hear a sudden “brrrrrrr’ from the car. “Uhh, what was that?” I ask.

“I don’t know dude.”

“I think that’s a bad sound.”

“I think so too.”

“I hope my car isn’t —-”

Wait!…. Im getting ahead of myself. Rewind about 30 minutes. We’re driving along the road away from the airport and Nabil says to me. “I’ve got a great idea for a movie.”

“It’s not a ‘dumb fan-film’ is it?” I ask, adding a slight Kansas City accent to the words dumb fan-film.

“No Tim!” Is Nabil’s response. “It’s about this Arab guy. And he’s, y’know, he’s Arab. But like, American. He’s like, half Arab, half American.”

“Okay.”

“So this Arab guy is like smart y’know. He’s just graduated college and needs a job. But he’s really smart and he can’t get a job.”

-This is how Nabil pitches idea’s that he hasn’t fully formulated. If you ever have to sit through a developing idea from Nabil, I suggest you run away as fast as you can-

So I sit there listening to Nabil meandering around, searching for a point to get to. About ten minutes go by.

“So then, he like gets turned down a lot at job interviews because he is Arab, and he decides to just, like change his name or something, to get a job, or something? I don’t know. What do you think?”

I don’t really know what he is talking about at this point. “Uhh I don’t know. Sounds lame.”

“No it’s not! It’s a great idea! It’s the best idea ever! Is it hot in here?”

-Jump forward 10 minutes-

Nabil is now on the phone with his Dad telling him the problem with his car.

"I think that's a bad sound..."

“The dash just shut off. –Yes- Yes- Yes Dad the car is running. No but the lights… yeah…. I love you Dad….. Uh huh… Yeah. No the car seems fine. But the dash is out- no. You think I should pull over? Yes- Yes- Look Dad, I love you… Really, couldn’t it just be some electri—yeah. I love you Dad. Ok. Ok I’ll pull over and call you back. –I love you too Dad. “ The conversation went something like that.

So we take the car to a … lets call it… a ShepBoys auto repair place.

We’re in the waiting room. It’s hot. The room smells like stale body odor and almonds. I hate it here. I want to go home.

A man with greasy hands comes over to talk with us. I don’t like the look on his face. “We’re going to have to keep the car overnight and work on it in the morning.”

“What!?” Nabil and I say in unison.

–Well, we didn’t, but it would have totally been like a movie if we had. -

“Yeah, the guy who knows how to fix the problem works tomorrow. And we’re about to close in 30 minutes.”

“Are you serious?” Nabil asks.

Nabil's Crappy Car.

“There is a motel down the street if you want to stay there for the night.” He points a greasy finger down the road. “See you tomorrow then.” He walks away. Not only do I hate the room I’m in, I also hate that guy. I hate Nabil’s car and I hate Florida.

I take a deep breath and decide not to be angry. “Well I guess we’re stuck here.” I say.

“I guess so.”

“Tell me about that idea you had again.”

~Colin

Karrabba's: Good Food, Bad Tips

Most of my first few posts will try to get everyone up to speed on the constant roller coaster that has been Arab in America.  We’re kind of starting this blog late in the game (over 2 years since we started the project) so there’s a lot of ground to catch up…

I can remember it like it was yesterday…  Here, lets set the scene a bit.  Close your eyes and think of Savannah, Georgia, USA.  If you’ve never been to Savannah, think of heaven, take away a little bit of beauty, add in some old, and and top it off with a horrible paper mill smell.  Anyway, it was the spring of 2006.  I had just broken up with my girlfriend and started working at an Italian Chain restaurant (lets call it Karrabba’s).  I was kind of going through a little dilemma at the time…  No, it wasn’t because I had just lost my girlfriend (I was pretty relieved about it, actually) nor was it because I was getting tired of having extra virgin olive oil spilled all over my clothes (the smell stays even after multiple showers)…

My senior year was fast approaching and I had to make a movie to graduate the Savannah College of Art and Design.  I already had a hilariously, dorky screenplay that my entire Advanced Writing Class loved and couldn’t wait for me to make…  The problem?  My crew.  Ever since I was a Sophomore in college, I’ve worked with the same two people on every movie I made.  Tim Bryan and Jason Wheeler.  Tim was my DP (director of photography).  Any project or movie I wanted to make, Tim was there to light it and Jason was there to film it (camera op).  And whenever they needed help on their projects, of course, I would lend my services (writer, director, lugging equipment, getting the coffee, etc.).  When you find people that you work well together, you don’t want to lose them.  You want to keep working with them as long as possible.  And my latest “stroke of genius” wasn’t sitting too well with my crew-mates.

I believe that Tim’s exact words were, “Why am I mad?  Because you screwed me, that’s why I’m mad!”.  Tim had partnered with me through some pretty horrible projects because he believed that I had something in me.  He thought I had some amazing story in my brain that would make an incredible movie and he’d be there to make it happen.  And at the time, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what Tim’s problem was with my screenplay.  I mean, everyone in my Writing Class liked it.  My friends and family liked it.  Even my professors liked it.

The screenplay in question was titled, Assassinate George.  It was the story of two fed up twenty-something nerds that got so pissed at George Lucas for screwing up the new Star Wars prequels, that they decided to go on a cross-country trip to kill George Lucas before he messes up the Original Trilogy.  Tim referred to the project as a “dumb fan-film” and insisted “that’s not the reason I came to film school.”

So, it’s Sunday morning and I’m standing in my Karrabba’s-wait-staff-attire, cleaning my section, and getting ready for the church crowd to come in and tip me like poop when it hit me…  I called my high school friend, Jamie Gaar (he’s since changed his name after getting married to Jamie Hawkins-Gaar, please give him crap for it) and quickly pitched the idea to him.

If I remember correctly, it was a story of an alien abduction set in 15 BC.  The abductees turned out to be our religious prophets (David, Abraham, Moses, etc.) who in turn, dictated what was told to them from the aliens…  At the time I thought it was hilarious.  Since then, I only find it a mildly-entertaining observation.  Jamie quickly stopped me in the middle of my pitch and told me to stop.  I guess after listening to fifteen super-cliché pitches he’d had enough.

“Nabil,” he said, “just write about what you know.  It’ll be personal and it’ll be funny.  It’ll be everything you want it to be because it’s yours and you know it.  Now stop calling me, I’m at work.”

For the rest of the shift I was in a daze.  Handing customers their drinks and taking their orders there was only one thing that was constantly spinning through my mind.  A title…  Arab in America.

-Nabil