The Witches of Donau City
Chris Hemsworth is in Vienna for a movie production in my neighborhood.
Chris Hemsworth, who? All my friends know about him but me. A friend sent me a photo, but it didn’t help. Instead, everybody calls or writes me messages asking if I have bumped into him yet.
If I bumped into him, I would ask how much his producers paid the City of Vienna or the managers of our apartment administration to get a permit. We have to cope with the inconveniences caused by the film shoot. You see, we woke up one day to find a notice posted on the elevator wall, telling us that film production would take place for a couple of weeks and that specific areas were no longer accessible to us—like the pathway to the subway station or the grocery stores. You take that way one day and a different one the next. I’d been following the rules since the first day of location shooting. I get stopped almost every time and told to go back and take another way. They are everywhere—those film crews wearing identical green jackets. Their job is to prevent people from crossing where Helmsworth may be chasing the bad guys and exchanging gunfire.
I was focused on following directions I could use, especially walking to the subway station. It usually takes about 10 minutes to walk from my apartment building to the subway station or the bank. It depends on whether you are a rabbit or a turtle that day. I have long become the symbol of that tired Filipino joke about a news headline that goes, ‘Philippine Rabbit Turned Turtle.’ Philippine Rabbit is a bus company in my country. It’s a humorous way of saying I’ve become slow and cautious due to disruptions during the film shoot.
Yesterday, I wasn’t feeling well. My nose was running, and I kept sneezing all day, but I needed to go to the Pharmacy to get some medication. The filming made the journey longer, but did I have a choice? I had to take another route to the Pharmacy, past the Austria Convention Center, which was being used at that time as a center for COVID-19 vaccines, PCR tests, and other tests against the virus. The filming disrupted the usual flow of people to the testing center, creating a chaotic and potentially risky situation. So you walk alongside hundreds of people who want to get or have been tested, and you risk getting infected. You’d better wear your mask, as I always do in crowded areas.
As I was about to cross the street to the subway station, a crew member suddenly emerged from the crowd, instructing me not to cross there. It was the final straw in a series of frustrating encounters, each one adding to my growing sense of exasperation.
“Give me a break!” I snapped, my voice filled with defiance. He was startled, but I just ignored him, refusing to let their authority overpower me.
Two other crew members saw what was happening and approached me. “Is there any problem?” Asked one of them.
“YOU’RE THE PROBLEM! “I exploded. “I live here, and I’ve been trying to cooperate, but every day, you come up with a new rule.” No one could stop me now. Rant, rant, rant!
“So, really, tell me, how much did the Donau City management get from the producer of this movie?” Donau City is the district in Vienna where I live.
“Every day, I have to make sacrifices like altering my routine because the Donau City gave you a permit to shoot this bloody film without consulting us—the tenants.” I was fuming mad.
“Do you know that I had suffered every waking moment of my life since day one when you started filming?” Helicopters are hovering over my apartment building, making it hard to sleep. I continued with my monologue, preventing the no-clue guys from speaking.
I knew I could not win the case even when I said that I had just had recent heart surgery. I lied. Yes, I had a defibrillator implant done two months ago, and it was not as scary as open-heart surgery. Still, I want to make it overly dramatic.
“Gute Besserung!” That was the best form of sympathy I could solicit from them. “Get well soon!”
“And don’t forget you are the star of the production.” One of the boys tried to make me feel good by assuring me.
Star of the production, my foot! I snarled.
“How? You chased us away after we made the wrong turn to the subway, and now you are telling me we are the stars of the show? THINK AGAIN!”
I crossed the street in haste before they could say another word. Movie stars always do that after a heated discussion in one tension-filled scene, exiting furiously and slamming the door on the other actor. For impact, you know.
Later that evening, alone in my home, I pondered my behavior that day.
Did it really happen? Did I overreact? I used to be insensitive to unnecessary noise. As I grow older, I get easily upset by any noise and disorder. I cannot stand big crowds. When I get invited to a dinner party, I first ask how many people are coming or who the other guests are. I am reminded of that old woman at work who was so wrinkled she looked like crumpled aluminum foil. She never smiled; she sneered all the time, never had a kind word for her colleagues in the office. She has been retired for years, but for some reason, she stayed on and worked for one professor emeritus at our joint employer, an international organization. I wondered whether she was getting paid and, if so, by whom—probably the professor. How could someone allow themselves to evolve into a wicked witch of fairy tales? I fear becoming her image, and the thought scares me.
I promised not to be annoyed anymore when the camera resumed rolling again. I might even get a glimpse of Chris Hemsworth. Minnie Cruz-Langer, a former work colleague in Vienna, sent me a message on Messenger about “filming some action scenes of the Netflix series ‘Tyler Rake’ in your vicinity this week.” Oh, she has no idea!
That I might bump into Chris Hemsworth, she wrote. I replied that the filming drives me nuts and annoys me no end. She wrote back with a picture of the actor attached, saying, “pag nasalubong mo, baka di ka na mainis.” That if I bump into him, I may no longer be upset? Seriously? No, not this witch of Donau City!
I am glad that I am not the only witch in Donau City. When you have lived in this city for so long, stop wondering. There are many of them. One particular witch was this nasty old bag who, one day, prevented me from taking the elevator because she was there first. “Covid,” she hissed. I did not listen because two people were allowed to share the elevator at the start of the pandemic. So I entered: she got off, mumbling incoherently.
“Vielen Dank,” I shouted a tad louder so she could hear. I was wearing a face mask.
One day, I was in the elevator at the start of the film shooting, coming from the basement. The door opened on the ground floor, and there she was waiting. She saw me, but she entered like I wasn’t there. I could tell she was in a bad mood, but I was surprised when she began talking to me.
“Do you know they’re shooting a film in Donau City?” she asked. Oh, really? Tell me!
“We cannot use the passage going to the grocery shop or the subway station,” she said in German. “It is a shame that my opinion was not asked.” Your opinion does not matter, my bubble thought.
“Oh, they did. The Building Management called me to apologize for the inconvenience. I wonder if they forgot about you.” Bitch! Witch! I lied, of course. Made my day.