Southampton - At the beginning of last summer, tracking down a story on film and television shoots on the East End, I walked into Southampton High School because the Grant Wilfley Casting Agency had a cast call for people who thought they had the quintessential Hamptons look. They were looking for extras for, at that time, an unnamed television project that was going to be shot in the East End. I thought there might be a story in it.

I showed up in the very late afternoon and I am sure was perceived as a straggler, as the casting call had been going on all day and apparently had lines going out the door at one point. As I entered the auditorium someone handed me a 3 x 5 index card to fill out and directed me to get my picture taken once it was complete. Details like name, address, cell phone number, height, weight, hair and eye color, make of car, experience and union affiliations were all included on the card.

"What the hell," I thought, "I'll play along." I was after all attired in a white Lacoste polo shirt with the classic alligator logo not the déclassé crest, a pair of white RL chinos, pleated of course, a Brooks Brothers navy blazer with a royal blue Thomas Pink paisley pocket square, my feet sockless in a pair of Sperry Topsiders and I was donning a very worn and faded blue Montauk Yacht Club baseball cap. Let's face it, with the exception of a pair of lime green and yellow plaid madras pants, I was as quintessentially Hamptons as one could get. At least I thought so.

The summer came and went and I never got a call. "Damn," I said to myself, "I really should have worn my madras pants." Perhaps I was too understated in my Hamptonness or Hamptonese or Hamptonism, whatever! Nothing much came of the story either. Oh well, c'est la vie!

Almost a year later, I woke up groggy on May 8, after covering a Hamptons celebrity charity fete the night before, and dragged myself to my laptop with my "Yale Dad" coffee mug and a cigarette in hand to check my emails. Thinking it was another of the several dozen emails I get a week from publicists looking for ink for their clients, I came across one whose subject title read: "Hamptons Party Scene For USA TV Show 'Royal Pains.'" Okay, I'll bite. After all, the publicists are my major sources for leads regarding event coverage. Lo and behold I read the following:

Legendary actor/director/producer Henry Winkler joins the cast for "Royal Pains" second season.

"We're contacting you on the behalf of 'Royal Pains' a second season hit television show that airs on USA. The theme of the show is of a resourceful concierge doctor whom is set in the Hamptons. As you well know, the Hamptons has a very specific upscale high-society aesthetic in which we want to authentically recreate. We are reaching out to you because we think you have the 'look' to appear on the show. Currently, we are casting for a fabulous party scene shooting in the Hamptons this coming week. The party scene shoots Friday, May 14, which is going to be our amazing Estate Party Scene given by 'Ms. Newberg' played by Christine Ebersole for her daughter 'Blake Newberg' played by Mary Lynn Rajskub. There is a possibility we will need a few people to appear in an intro scene which shoots on Thursday, May 13 which will take place in front of Ms. Newberg's Estate featuring guests arriving to the party. If you are available to do both Thursday and Friday please let us know and we will try and book you for both days."

Holy standing table at Nick & Toni's, I do have the quintessential Hamptons look after all. I read it again, "As you well know, the Hamptons has a very specific upscale high-society aesthetic in which we want to authentically recreate. We are reaching out to you because we think you have the 'look' to appear on the show."

I lean back in my desk chair, take a sip of my coffee, a drag on my cigarette and actually say out loud, "Yes, I do 'well know' that I do have the 'look' and you Grant Wilfley were very wise in choosing me." Obviously, all of this has immediately gone to my head and I imagine myself a modern version of Black Jack Bouvier strolling into the Maidstone Club for a nightcap after a late dinner at Gordon's.

Moreover, I imagined being cast in every film shot in the Hamptons with even fellow Hamptonian Steven Spielberg asking me to appear in his next blockbuster. Better yet, the "Royal Pains" producers are so taken with me that they create a spinoff featuring an intrepid Hamptons A&E Reporter starring, of course, moi!

I respond humbly and gratefully to the email, nothing short of honored to be chosen, but must decline the Thursday shoot because, "I am committed to one of the many Hampton events I simply must cover." Shortly thereafter I receive a generic email explaining the after 3 p.m. call-in confirmation process I must go through the day before the shoot and I am given a number, I am number 79. 79? Are they saying that there are 78 people ahead of me who exude more Hamptonian de rigueur? We will see about that! I mark it on my calendar and go about my work week in anticipation of my grand entrance on set, or should I say, on location.

The sound and lighting trucks at Base Camp in the parking lot of Coopers Beach in Southampton. (Douglas Harrington)

Not wanting to appear too eager, I don't call in until 3:15 the day before the shoot. After moving through the Grant Wilfley phone system of various shows and shoots they are casting, I come upon the instructions for "Royal Pains" with a long detailed message that explains what to wear, where to go and what time to arrive on set. What to wear - no worries there, I will be oozing Hamptons style and plan on giving numbers 1-78 a lesson in it. Where to go - just give me the address, I have been covering the Hamptons for years. In explaining when to arrive, they break the details out into categories such as 1-25 union, numbers 26-31 stand-ins and 32-148 background. Background? I don't know if I like being referred to as background, but I assume I am at least more background stylish than numbers 80-148. Excuse me, what time did you say background had to be on the set? 6 a.m., as in six in the morning? Are they kidding? I am a writer; I don't even start thinking about breakfast until 12 noon.

I press and layout everything the night before, get to bed early and actually arrive at what they call Base Camp five minutes early. Base Camp is the Coopers Beach parking lot where there are trailers for the talent, numerous equipment, lighting and sound trucks, Porto-potties, a bus for the extras and vans for the talent, meaning the show's stars, that will transport us a few driveways down Meadow Lane to the set, which is a typical Hamptons oceanfront mansion. There is also a large tent, a very large tent, where we sign in and have our costumes checked by costume people, our hair checked by hair people, and our face checked by make-up people.

Everything going on in the tent, at least regarding background, is being run by a guy named Mike who is one of the ADs (Assistant Directors), 2nd, 3rd or perhaps 4th AD. I am not sure. (I can attest to this now because once we got to the set it was very obvious who the 1st AD was and his name was Wex) - but I digress.

Assisting Mike was Clay and Laura, I believe they are both APDs (Assistant Production Directors), but I have no idea regarding their numerology. Clay is distant and reserved, whereas Laura is friendly and engaging. Maybe it is a good cop/bad cop APB thing, but Laura was our go-to-gal and all the background adored her.

Extras at the hair and make-up tables on location for "Royal Pains" in Southampton.

Running down the center of the tent was a long breakfast buffet provided by a caterer named Henry. Marvelous, but do not sit at the crew tables! Never sit at the crew tables! It must be a union thing, because all the members of the crew are very nice and they really don't seem to mind if you sit at their tables. At this time of the morning all I want is coffee and a cigarette, so I stand outside sipping and smoking until the lines thin at costumes, hair and make-up. Frankly, I hate to queue.

I return to the tent to get checked out, first I go to costumes. "Oh my God, you are perfect. We don't need to do a thing." Yes! "And I love the white bucks." I say to myself, but not out loud, "Of course you do." In truth, I was stunningly Hamptons, while retaining my own personal sense of understatement. I had chosen to go classic navy and white with stripes and polka dots. You know, like sun room furniture in 90 percent of the Hamptons beach houses. Frankly, I could have sat down on one of those couches and disappeared, lost in the fabric design.

Yes, I was perfect in my blue striped seersucker Brooks Brothers sports jacket, my white Ralph Lauren oxford shirt, pressed starch stiff, with the discreet blue polo pony logo, a J. Crew navy tie with tiny white polka dots and a navy pocket square to match. A navy canvas belt held up my white linen Calvin Klein cuffed trousers and, yes, I was indeed wearing a pair of white bucks with no socks. I was the epitome of classic Hampton style and I did it on my own understated terms. (That is not to say that I didn't have a pair of madras pants, a lime green polo and a pink cotton sweater in the car, just in case they were looking for cliché Hamptons as opposed to tasteful Hamptons. I also had a white linen suit and a white panama hat, just in case they wanted monochromatic Hamptons).

On to hair, which I was sure would require some work. As I frequently admit, "Sometimes I win, sometimes the hair wins." Today, surprisingly, I had won and I was waved on to make-up. Apparently, I needed some work in the face department. So they sat me in a high director's chair and I liked that, imagining my future role as talent on my own series spinoff. They toned down my martini veined cheeks and hid a few wrinkles. Okay, I'll admit it, wrinkle wise my mug is just short of resembling a relief map of the Scottish Highlands. As they say, it is not the years, it's the miles. Thanks to the make-up artist my facial odometer dropped about 50,000 miles, thank you very much.

Part of the crew on location at the "Royal Pains" Meadow Lane mansion set in Southampton.

Mike has now gathered us all together to give us instructions on how to exactly be background, all 125 of us. 125, what happened to 126-148? I guess some background numbers did not show. What, no white bucks?

He explains that once on set we will be shooting two scenes today, both take place at a glamorous Hamptons cocktail party. We will be placed in certain positions and given instructions to move if we are to move, "if not stay put." We need to interact with each other as guests at a party, but we cannot speak. "Move your mouths like you are talking to each other, but do not make any noise, mimic speaking! If you are instructed to move, move when the director says 'background.' If you hear the word 'reset,' go back to your starting place and be ready to shoot the scene again."

Now it is time for us, the background, to get on the bus and drive the 500 or so feet down Meadow Lane to the mansion set. Most of us would have gladly walked, but I think that must be a liability thing, not a union thing. However, the union extras were indeed allowed to get on the bus first.

On the set we form a line, enter through a side door and walk through the mansion's kitchen where we pick up our props - red wine glasses filled with grape juice, white wine glasses filled with apple juice and martini glasses filled with water and a large olive or two. From the kitchen we head back outside, around the house, through the garage, into the basement and out into the pool area and ocean front grounds. There was clearly an agreement with the homeowner guaranteeing them that the background would not walk through their living room. You remember that scene from "Blazing Saddles" don't you, "We'll take the talent and the crew, but we don't want the background!" Yes, we were the Irish.

An unmarked step in the dimly lit garage caused me to spill some red wine, correction, grape juice on the sleeve of my seersucker jacket. Fearing it might show up on camera and I would be sent back to Base Camp, I cloaked my sleeve with a bent arm until I could get my hands on some bottled water to lighten the stain. It is bad enough to be background, but rejected background? Oh the shame, particularly for one so well dressed, so perfectly Hamptons.

Once outside our fearless leader Mike is pairing up couples and breaking others into small groups and placing them at different points on the grounds. Some are placed 100 yards or more away from the deck on which the scene is being shot. In journalist terms they would be referred to as "deep" background. Seeing this I wondered why I got Hamptons dressed at all. From that distance I am certain we are all just a blur on film or look like a forest of light barked saplings on which someone hung some clothes on their way to a skinny dip in the ocean.

Mike starts to cluster me in a group of four and I see my chance for a spinoff literally spinning off into deep background hell. But wait! He pauses, looks me up and down and says, "You! You go on up to the deck." Yes! This is a man of taste; he sees my potential or at the very least knows this attire should not be wasted in deep background. Climbing the stairs I pause and look back at my fellow backgrounders as if to say, "Fear not, I will return for you. One day we will all be on the deck." In truth, I am thinking they really should have dressed better and wonder if I am now allowed to walk through the living room?

"Royal Pains" stars Jill Flint and Mark Feuerstein on a Hamptons beach.

I arrive on the deck to the stare of a puzzled AD named Eric, 2nd I think. Eric calls Mike on the walkie-talkie, "What do you want me to do with this guy?" Mike answers, "I think he might make a good 'whale.'" Eric gives me the once over, "Got it!" I have no idea what any of this means, but whale has got to be better than background. Eric asks me I am available on Monday and if I have a bag of golf clubs. I answer, "Yes, of course and I am Scottish, I have many bags of golf clubs." "Great, Joanna from casting will call you later with the details," Eric explained. He places me in a group of what I assumed consisted of other whales at the top of the stairs. I also assumed these were the union background, as they were already assembled on set when we were marched through the garage, or had they too been picked from the masses during the deep background death march like me? But were they all whales I wondered, some were women, could they too be whales? Exactly how elite was my new description and when would my new found fame be explained to me?

I was fantasying my character name of Trevor Ridley in the new hit spinoff series from "Royal Pains" called "Hampton Whales" when my fantasy was interrupted by Eric explaining our part in the scene. "Okay, you guys are all friends chatting among yourselves," he said. "Henry is going to come up the stairs and stop and chat with you. Act like he is telling you a joke and laugh when he is done talking, but don't make any noise. Act like you are laughing. Then he is going to walk away from you guys and meet Mark in the middle of the deck for their scene. You disperse into separate groups when he walks away to open up the background."

By Henry he meant Henry Winkler, by Mark he meant Mark Feuerstein and by background he actually meant background, not the poor souls that were blurs on the grounds of the mansion. Wow, as a whale I am in the thick of it, but it gets better. Eric turns to me and says, "You! I need you to cross at the start of the scene and join the group before Henry enters. Come with me into the sunroom." Really, the sunroom, how long can it be now before they let me walk through the living room?

The huge "background" check-in tent at the Coopers Beach Base Camp for the Southampton Royal Pains shoot.

I am placed on my mark in the sunroom and chat with a cameraman named O'Shea who is setting up his track right next to me. The stand-ins take their places while the shot is being set up and we walk through the scene to get the camera angles, lighting and sound right before the talent takes their places to actually film the scene.

The talent steps onto the set and it is like the world changes, now we are really getting down to work. I am inches away from Christine Ebersole for a moment before I make my cross. I actually cross in front of Mark Feuerstein as I exit the sunroom. Amid my fellow whales, Henry Winkler does climb the stairs and share a joke with us before crossing to Feuerstein after he is done with his scene with Ebersole for a confrontational scene between father and son, the Mark/Henry relationship on the show.

Words like background, sound, action and cut are repeated through various takes. They change screens to diffuse the sunlight and move the placement of extras, based on what the director has seen on the playbacks. ADs are running about shouting orders, crew members are scurrying, make-up artists and hair stylists are touching up the talent. Amid all this 1st AD Wex shouts a stop to everything, blackberry in hand, "Everybody take cover it is going to rain in five. It will only last about three minutes, just a passing shower. It's no big deal!" What, is he talking to God on that Blackberry? He must be, because it all happened just as he said it would, down to the second.

Rain now gone, we go back to work. Set-up again, background, sound, action, cut and finally we hear the word print. Yes, this scene is in the can. I am amazed by the amount of people it takes to film a scene that could not possibly have been longer than five minutes. Four stars, probably 50 crew members and 148 extras, most of whom were just a blur in the camera's eye. Over? Hardly! Now it all has to be repeated from the reverse angle. Let no one tell you that this is not hard work. Actually the extras have it pretty easy, as does the talent I think, but pity the poor crew.

Reverse angle shot done, we all head back to Base Camp for lunch. Quite the spread I must say, including a carving table. With a half dozen of fellow extras bumming cigarettes from me during breaks on set, I pass on lunch, get in my car and race to the reservation to get a pack of smokes, which probably was not allowed based on either liability or union rules, or both.

After lunch we return to the set to find all the cameras moved to the main part of the deck. Who did all this during lunch, elves? Like I said, pity the poor crew. No wonder they have their own tables. The distant deep background extras are being moved into positions of prominence in this different scene from the same cocktail party. Yes, they too finally get their place in the spotlight. I am happy for them, but do take shameful pleasure in the fact that I am a whale and they are, well, still background. I assumed I would be vanquished to the distant lawn, but surprisingly I am in this scene as well, albeit not as involved.

In truth, I would not have cared if I had been sent to the lawn. Today I have stood next to Christine Ebersole, crossed in front of Mark Feuerstein and laughed with Henry Winkler. Hell, I am all over this shoot like a sailor on a Singapore hooker and would be glad to be a blur. Instead, I am leaning on a bar, this time with a martini in hand (for me this is truly "Method" acting), talking to fellow whale Brian. Well, not really talking, just mouthing words. Okay, it is method pantomime.

So, two angles done on this scene and all the extras are sent to the lawn to wait. Waiting is a big part of the job of being an extra, excuse me - background. Waiting and being very, very quiet. Hurry up, wait and be quiet! If there were a patron saint of extras our prayer would be, with long pauses, "Saint Background, give me the energy to hurry, give me the patience to wait, give me the ability to shut my mouth. Thank you for the great food and the word print."

Waiting on the lawn I decided to turn my phone back on, having been very professional by turning my phone off when I arrived at the Base Camp. My phone read 4:35 p.m. Are you kidding me, where did 10 and a half hours out of my day go? That said, thinking about it, it felt like 24 hours at this point. I still had to wait for the bus to return me to base camp. I still had to be checked out by APDs Laura or Clay and that was at least another hour. My dogs were absolutely barking in my sockless white bucks and I still had to drive home.

Reality grabbed me, "Had I put myself through all this just to prove I indeed had the quintessential look of the Hamptons? Had I fallen prey to the shallow vanity of actually being on television, even for just a few minutes? Had I, a former Shakespearean actor, actually got caught up in the thrill of being in the company of mere television stars?" Yes to all the above and I had done it for just a whisper more than minimum wage, as I am a member of Actors Equity, but not a member of AFTRA.

Well, lesson learned and I certainly had, as is obvious, enough to write an article about being an extra on a TV show shot in the Hamptons. (I do wish I had more photos, but they frown on extras taking pictures on set, although I did sneak a few with a pocket camera). Twelve hours and I did not even get a line, not a single word? I had no intention of ever putting myself through this again and that was for sure! Then my cell phone rang, "Hi Doug, it is Joanna from Grant Wilfley Casting. Listen, they really like your look and they want you as one of the "Whales" in a featured scene with Henry and Paulo on Monday. Can you do it?"

"Is she kidding me?" I thought about it for all of 10 seconds and said, "Absolutely!"

Next week look for Part 2: "I Am The Whale On The Golf Course!"