Something I wish I’d done back when I lived in NYC: my apartment was at 9th and Wythe in Brooklyn, and for whatever reason, that corner was prone to late night fights.

And it was really annoying, because it was almost always two drunk guys yelling ridiculous threats while doing everything possible to avoid throwing the first punch.

So this would go on for 20 minutes, and then someone in the building would get fed up and call the cops, and they’d always show up just after everyone had gotten bored and gone home.

Anyway, one night I’m trying to get some work done, and all I can hear is this endless back-and-forth yelling from a fight outside. I look out the window, and it’s two guys in their early 20s ganging up on a smaller guy. So now I feel bad for smaller guy, and I’m going to call 911.

Then, smaller guy pops the trunk of his car and pulls out a skateboard and starts swing wildly. His two opponents are initially startled, then they start throwing wild punches at the skateboard, and everything is getting stupider.

Then, like something out of West Side Story, a bunch of smaller guy’s friends run around the corner, and now the two guys are outnumbered. Only, everyone is still scared to actually connect with a first hit, so people are throwing punches at empty air, and the one dude is still swinging his skateboard.

And everyone is yelling excruciatingly cringe threats louder than ever, and it’s all never been more annoying. But I know if I call the cops, they’ll never show up in time.

Then I get an idea. I get out my big guitar amp and lug it close to the window.

Then I dig out an aux cable and connect it to my phone. And then, I start madly searching on Spotify for the song “Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting.”

Because my theory is, no matter how angry you are, there is absolutely no way anyone can fight and keep up the tough guy bravado while the disco beats of “Everybody was kung fighting!!” are blaring over the neighborhood at a ludicrous volume. Like, legitimately impossible.

Sadly, I wasn’t quick enough. Just as I was about to hit play, the police showed up (someone in the building must have called), and everyone scattered.

For months after, I kept my amp by the window in case of another fight, but none occurred, and then I moved out of the city.

But to this day, it remains one of my deepest regrets that I wasn’t able to witness a bunch of drunk idiots attempt to duke it out on a Brooklyn street corner to the funky beats of “Kung Fu Fighting.” (Though my wife is convinced I’d have just focused the mob’s fury on me).

I love coming across forgotten neon signs for long-gone businesses, and old Chinese restaurants are among my favorite —

This chow mein sign used to hang above a photocopy place (also out of business!) at 823 Nostrand in Brooklyn (now a florist, sign sadly removed).

Also, fascinated by whoever thought to put such an artsy street number sign on the building (still there!):

I’ve been a location scout for 20+ years and it’s funny, whenever I’m at a new place, my mind will notice some little detail and instantly make this sort of Sherlock Holmes-like prediction. Like I just passed this house —

And right away, my mind goes: “Ah, horse people.” Because the thing that stands out to me immediately are those two brick blocks out front, which are most likely – but not necessarily! – a mounting block, for getting up and down from a horse.

From there, a few things occur to me. If they are horse owners, does the horse live in a backyard stable? If so, we’d likely have to relocate the horse if we end up filming due to the commotion (also, horse owners tend to be intensely protective of their animals).

But then, why is the block out front, and not in the backyard? In which case, maybe it means they board their horse locally, and occasionally ride to their house. Except: there’s no hitching post. A third option is that it’s just decorative. A fourth is that I’m wrong and it’s the remains of, say, a mail box.

In the end, whatever my initial snap assessment, I usually still knock. But having an idea of the potential concerns that might exist always helps to get a jump on addressing them with the homeowner if I turn out to be right.

And here’s why I love NYC: that weird thing you happened to come across? It always turns out to have some sort of interesting history to explain. For example, that tiny magazine shop I wrote about yesterday with the tree growing through it —

A reader commented that the reason for this odd cut-out is because it was once an entrance to the nearby West 4th Street subway stop! And incredibly, the now-abandoned stairwell still exists: “At the back of the newsstand there was a staircase descending into darkness…” —

“This was used for storage by the newsstand. That staircase was an abandoned entrance to the West 4th Street subway station!”

There’s always a reason — and as usual, the reason always just makes me want to explore further. Is the stairwell still there??

I have this massive folder of pictures from my location scouting days in New York City, of totally random things I’d come across in my travels. Like, this magazine stand on 6th Avenue that appears to magically have a tree growing through the middle of it –

I remember walking by this place and always having so many questions. Like: how shallow was the clerk’s booth, given that it had to accommodate the tree? Did that door with Employees Only written on it lead to the tree area? Was there even a bathroom for the clerk?

Who was the enterprising soul who realized there was JUST enough room to erect a magazine stand? And what strange bit of NYC property history resulted in this square being carved out of the building to begin with??

Sadly, a quick streetview check reveals it’s all gone in 2026. The tree has been cut down. The magazine shop is now just a wall for advertising.

Looking through my folder of pics, so many have suffered the same fate: strange little bits of history that have disappeared in the pursuit of square footage and homogenization.

I sometimes think that cities go through two eras: the period when these oddities are allowed to crop up, often due to sheer chance, ignorance, or disregard; and then, the period when they’re slowly but surely identified and eliminated.

There’s obviously no justification in keeping them around forever; but then, if we all know they’ll never be allowed to come back once they’re gone, doesn’t that suggest they had some sort of value all along?

The other day, I was out scouting in the middle of nowhere when I came something special.

I was making my way across unnamed dirt roads when, in the distance, I saw what looked like an abandoned stone house…

Of course I had to pull over and take a look. I love finding these places, desert homes that are miraculously still standing often a century after they were built…

Typically, they’re reclaimed by local kids as a place to hang out, drink, smoke, the usual. This one was particularly large…

And even had a second little home out back, with its own miniature fireplace:

Then I noticed something odd nearby: a block-like structure with stairs leading up to it. At first, I thought it was a cistern, but there was one higher up on the hill. What could it be?

I looked inside – and the rounded stairs in the corner gave it away: this was a pool! And there was more…

On the stairs leading up to the pool, I saw some writing and took a closer look. What I found amazed me…

“Started Oct 1944; Finished Oct 1945.” Absolutely incredible. At a time when this area could not have been more inaccessible and remote, someone took it upon themselves to build not only a home, but a pool…

Then I realized this wasn’t the only trace left by the family that lived here over eighty years ago. Lining the pool were several buttress-like steps…

And as I looked closer, I was amazed to see handprints and names from the family. Here we have “ELIZABETH” and her nickname, “BETTY”:

Others were so faded that it was impossible to read the writing…

And for others still, the writing was almost completely gone:

But one was still particularly legible, a special spot reserved at the head of the pool…

Pop and mom. The two who had somehow created a home in the middle of nowhere.

This is why I love what I do. You think you’ve seen it all. You stare out at a vast empty desert plain and think: there’s nothing out there. Then you start exploring – and it turns out, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

Never stop exploring.

I’ve been scouting this week in the desert, and I keep coming across abandoned boats, which I love because it’s such a surreal visual. And given how popular crazy conspiracy theories are these days, I’ve decided to create a “flat-Earther”-style explanation for their existence –

I don’t have all the details worked out yet, but in my burgeoning premise: this area was once home to a vast lake ala the Salton Sea that was used for recreational purposes by locals.

Then, one day about twenty years ago, THE EVENT occurred, in which the lake suddenly flashed out of existence, along with all collective human memory and written evidence of said lake. Exactly what happened is still fiercely debated –

Some say it was due to an controversial experiment gone awry at nearby Edwards AFB… Others claim it was a dimensional crossover, in which our water wound up in a mirror reality… Others say the government siphoned it off during an life-threatening drought…

Whatever happened, the only evidence remaining are the boats left stranded across the former lake bed never to sail again, all records erased, their owners having long forgotten about them.

Until: the prophesied return of the disappearing lake. Soon.

Obviously, this theory is incredibly stupid, which means a large number of people will likely believe it. So get in on the ground floor and add to the mythology! And be sure to follow for more of the crazy thoughts you have when you’ve been scouting in the desert for too long…

As a location scout, I love taking a closer look at older movie locations, so here’s the first part of a deep dive I’ve been working on for you Philly fans: Brian De Palma’s Blow Out, comparing 1981 Philadelphia to what it’s become 45 years later…

The movie opens with a scene that fills me with anxiety as a scout, because it would be extraordinarily difficult to pull off today. We see John Travolta out recording ambient sounds on a pedestrian bridge…

This was shot under the Henry Avenue bridge alongside Lincoln Drive, and the pedestrian bridge is still there to this day:

We then see a man next to a bench, apparently out for a stroll. Except look closely – there is BARELY enough room for the bench (it’s basically pressed against the wooden fence). That’s because it’s not really a sidewalk so much as a curb against traffic whizzing by on Lincoln.

My assumption is that the production closed all of Lincoln Drive, from Rittenhouse to Ridge, for the shoot over the course of several long nights, which allowed them to play it as more of a quiet park location with a transverse. We see a car smash through the fence…

And plunge into the Wissahickon Creek. Today, I can’t even imagine how many environmental studios alone would need to be conducted to get permission, let alone a laundry list of other concerns. Back in the 1980s? Chances are, that car is still down there.

Miss my day trips from NYC to Philly dearly since moving to LA. I’ll post more from Blow Out in the coming weeks.