On Euphoria, I ended up doing a LOT of desert scouting, and I’ll never forget an eerie encounter I had while taking pictures of an abandoned golf course in the middle of nowhere, which I had thought might make a good parcel of land for the border crossing scene.
I’m alone. No one around. No reception. The world is absolutely silent except for buzzing insects.
I’m walking along the old overgrown golf cart paths, snapping pictures and enjoying the desert breeze. I turn a corner –
And there’s a white pick-up truck parked in what used to be one of the golf course’s decorative lakes, now long since dried up.
Both doors are open, and I can see someone inside. Whoever it is is definitely staring directly at me.
Middle of nowhere. No one else for miles. No reception.
I’ve learned the best way to handle these sorts of questionable situations is to just barrel in head on, so I start toward the truck, make sure my hands are in plain view, and give a friendly wave to whoever is inside.
A guy gets out, flannel, jeans, beat-up hat pulled low, few teeth missing. He’s holding some sort of rusted metal pole.
Before I can get a word out, he looks at me and says, “You out here for why I’m out here?”
It is totally unclear from his tone if this is friendly or threatening.
“Why are you out here?” I ask.
“Going fishing,” he says with a weird chuckle.
I force a laugh, waiting to see what happens.
He takes his pole, and I realize it’s an old rusted garden rake. He begins to scrape the lakebed. After a few moments, he bends down and digs something out of the soil.
“Caught one!” he says, and stands up.
He’s holding an old golf ball.
“You have no idea how many are still buried here!” he says with giddy excitement, and then resumes his search.
When I leave 20 minutes later, he’s still hard at work, catching his desert fish.
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