Does Real Life Writes Better Scripts Than Hollywood?
If I pitched this as a short film, they’d say it was too unrealistic.
“Nobody pulls a machete over headlights at Wendy’s.”
Well, let me tell you about Raleigh, North Carolina… Based on a very true story.
FADE IN: EXT. WENDY’S PARKING LOT - 2 AM
Seven broke musicians in a van, fresh off a show at The Brewery. We’re riding that post-gig high, equal parts adrenaline and exhaustion. You know the feeling: ears still ringing, shirt soaked in sweat, pockets empty except for enough crumpled bills for the standard post-show ritual.
Hit the drive-they. Because nobody has money for real food, but somehow we can always scrape together enough for Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers.
THE SETUP:
Multiple trips through the drive-thru because everyone’s ordering separately. Peak broke band behavior. We’re that annoying group placing seven different orders at 2 AM while the cashier silently judges our life choices.
Junior bacon cheeseburgers. Frostys all around. The drummer wants no pickles. The bass player needs extra ketchup. You know how it goes.
THE CATALYST:
Apparently our headlights were too bright for the car in front of us during the first run through the drive-thru.
Here’s what I didn’t know then: this seemingly minor transgression had been noted. Filed away. Building into something that would turn a routine fast-food run into the most perfectly structured real-life drama I’ve ever witnessed.
ACT TWO ESCALATION:
After we park to wait for our food, these guys approach our van. I’m in the back seat, watching this unfold like I’m in the cheap seats at my own horror movie.
“Your brights were on! That was disrespectful.”
My buddy Beef, yes, that’s actually what we called him, tries to de-escalate: “Hey, sorry if we….”
THE TURN:
SLAM.
Full serrated machete. Slammed down on the window frame.
I’m staring at this blade thinking, “This is how I die? In a parking lot at Wendy’s? My mother’s going to have to explain to people that her son was murdered in a fast-food parking lot because of automotive lighting etiquette.”
The guy’s screaming about fighting us. With weapons. In a Wendy’s parking lot. At 2 AM. While employees inside are probably wondering if they should call the cops or just start filming.
THE RESOLUTION:
We didn’t get out. We called the cops. Everyone lived to tell the tale. The machete guys disappeared into the night like some fever dream. We ate our cold Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers in shocked silence while waiting for the police report.
FADE OUT.
Why I’m Telling You This
You can’t write this stuff. But somehow life delivers perfect three-act structure when you least expect it.
That night taught me something that’s shaped how I look at storytelling ever since: the best material isn’t found in writers’ rooms or brainstorming sessions. It’s happening right now, in parking lots and dive bars and grocery store checkout lines. Real life is already writing scripts, we just have to pay attention.
I’ve spent years in music venues, on film sets, in writers’ rooms, and behind editing bays. But some of my best material comes from moments like these: when ordinary life suddenly turns cinematic without any warning.