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That's me walking past the vampires on the set of Twilight

When I agreed to work as an extra in Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn, I had no idea I would end up escaping the locked-down production to save my regular hockey job.

The TSBD Security Memo should have prompted me to run screaming in the opposite direction. After describing the extras as among the “fortunate few” involved, the memo reminded us of our non-disclosure agreement and outlined the total ban on cellphones and electronic devices, even laptops with no webcam. For me, that meant no writing and editing for days, or pure hell.

As guests at the biggest vampire wedding in history, we were bussed from West Vancouver to Squamish, one hour north of Vancouver, British Columbia, and offloaded at the base camp – or “circus” – which snaked down an easement in the forest. Curtains hung between every RV and trailer to keep prying eyes from peeking and made the circus look like a tenement. From there, we passed through the “checkpoint charlie” metal detectors, and rode in vans to the extras “holding” tents where we sat for hours eating junk food.

Around 10 pm, one of the producers appeared to warn us about the security team, including frogmen on the river, preventing anyone from photographing the set. If we try to take a picture, we will be escorted off and fired. Do not inform anyone of the location of this set no matter how much money we are offered, and we must report any coercion. Also, do not speak to the actors no matter how close they are. We are fortunate to have been chosen to be part of this project, but our participation depends on compliance with security rules. Thanks and have a nice evening.

Around midnight we were marched to set, down a muddy road toward the river where, in the middle of the forest, a stunningly modernistic house had been built for the film. This was the scene in which the happy couple descends from the house amid rapturous applause. I was placed in a distant spot on the landscaping, invisible from the camera.

Between the 15-hour shoots, I worked jet-lagged, managing a concession stand at Rogers Arena where the Vancouver Canucks were poised for home ice advantage in the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

The next scenes, shot during the day, depicted the big wedding ceremony. The set was ethereal, with flower garlands hanging from a leafy canopy and log benches that seemed to grow into seating arrangements. We sat there, huddled around airline engine-sized heaters, waiting as the crew and actors did their thing. A quick shot to rise and turn toward to the bride, and then more waiting and shivering.

I met a guy who was a bartender at the arena, and with the season closer set for the next day, we discussed strategies for meeting both obligations. Everyone could see the wedding scene was not progressing, and just look at those rain clouds. The scene would probably continue tomorrow, and even with an early wrap, how would we make it to the game?

Sure enough, we were back on set the next morning. That’s when I saw the first frogman, on the opposite river bank. Security was on high alert, a crew member told me. Paparazzi divers were caught that morning trying to swim past the set. An extra with a camera was ejected the day before.

That day included the big scene in which Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson said their I do’s. Pattinson looked suitably pale, yet handsome in his tuxedo, and he smoked at every chance. Stewart looked amazing in a modest gown, but appeared freaked out about something. Being an actual couple, they huddled together and he seemed to console her. This was real-life movie drama playing before us and all the extras could do was gawk. Aw, how sweet. They really love each other.

Then, a helicopter began to circle and production ground to a halt. Walkie-talkies spouted angry instructions, security people scurried, and giant black umbrellas were opened over the actors to block views from the air. We were in hyper-security mode and the war against the paparazzi was on. All I could think was how would I get to the arena by four.

We broke for lunch and I was sure there would be an early wrap. Lunch ended and I smoked a cigarette. Another hour passed and I went begging for word, but wrangler Pete was clueless.

Finally, we wrapped. I boarded the first van and we arrived at the circus to find no bus waiting. Then we learned that the bus had just left West Van and would not arrive for another hour! I looked up to scream and curse the gods, and caught sight of a pair of hawks circling beneath a spectacular escarpment, and thought, I’m so frustrated, but damn, it’s beautiful out here!

A nervous call to the arena and another cigarette later, I was about to throw up. What the hell I was doing here, screwing up my regular hockey job for an occasional movie job? Where were my priorities?

I cursed myself all the plodding way to West Van and through impossible traffic to downtown. Arriving just before puck drop, I got stuck in the worst beer portable on the 300 level, but at least I made it to the Canuck’s last regular season game.

Fortunately, I was not booked for the next day’s nightmare scene. Within hours of each other, the dates for the Stanley Cup Finals were released and a schedule for the next two night shoots was emailed.

The second night’s shoot was scheduled on the day of the first Stanley Cup game!

That was it, I was finished. I couldn’t take it anymore. My extra life had crossed the line with my hockey life. I told my agent the next night would be fine, but “no can do” for April 13. He huffed and sighed and reminded me of my contract, but I said, “Look, the Canucks are in the Stanley Cup!”

The following afternoon, I got a chilly reception from the bus wrangler who took the time to inform us about how “some people” have reneged on their obligation because they don’t realize how lucky they are to be part of this historic film project. As I slid low in my seat, I whispered to the lady sitting next to me, “She’s talking about me. I’m the traitor, cuz’ I’ve got a hockey game to work.” The lady smiled and said, “Well, I don’t blame you, for what they pay us.”

Word of my defection spread through the set and even Pete tried to give me a hard time, but then he conceded, “It’s the Stanley frickin Cup, baby!”

Tonight’s scene was the wedding reception. The set looked like a hobbit banquet done up in woodsy chairs, leafy tables, branchy candelabras, dew drop glassware and stemmy silverware.

Several of us were pulled from the warm holding tent and the First Assistant Director looked us over. Pointing to me and another gal, he said, “You and you, the principle and the math teacher.”

Another AD explained our scene. “You’re going to say congratulations, turn and walk away.”

I said, “Don’t you know, this is my last night? I can’t be in it if there are going to be continuity issues.”

The First AD heard me and said, “We should be good.”

That’s how I got into a scene with the two hottest vampires on the planet.

Over flutes of fake Champagne, Sarah from Squamish and I giggled at our luck, and worked out who was the principle and who the math teacher. We laughed about everything: the set, the story and the now falling rain. By the time we were facing Pattinson and Stewart, we were suppressing snorts.

I was dying to tell Stewart how much I loved Runaways, but we were bound by celebrity gag order. It was one of the most awkward party moments ever.

After one rehearsal, shooting began. We were to leave as the rival vampire family approached the couple. But while the cameras rolled, I mimed my congrats and then, as if time had slowed, I paused, smiling, as if I had more words to mime. Then, came my ultimate humiliation.

I looked down and saw Kristen Stewart lifting her tiny hand and baby waving me away. Mortified, I could not have turned away faster without spilling my fake champagne. By the time Principle Sarah and I had joined a semi circle of other guests, I was hyperventilating and sweating. I couldn’t believe I’d dragged a two second shot into three seconds!

But, like all movies, they shot more than one take, so I was able to redeem myself immediately, although it meant more awkward moments between shunning the vampires.

As dawn broke, I left the the set with a heavy heart, but by twilight, as the Canucks pounded the Black Hawks, my Squamish saga had fallen away like a distant dream. Even if my vampire scene ends up in the final cut, I will never regret escaping the movies for a hockey game.

Read the short version of this story at the Vancouver Sun