How I Ended Up in a Movie with John Travolta – and Danced for 6 Hours

Mississippi Gulf Coast – For two weeks, the Mississippi Gulf Coast buzzed with movie magic. Facebook feeds lit up with celebrity sightings, camera crews crowded downtown Ocean Springs, and yes — John Travolta really was here. Like many, I watched the excitement unfold online. Unlike most, I ended up in the movie.

It started with a phone call from my daughter, Maddie. She asked if I’d seen the Facebook casting calls going around. A Biloxi-based company called Morgan Casting was hiring background actors — “extras” for those of us who didn’t know the lingo.

Maddie applied for a shopper role. I submitted for one seeking men with black suits to play FBI agents. No experience required. Just two recent, unfiltered photos.

Unfortunately, my daughter did not get a call back, but I did.

The email said they no longer needed FBI agents, but offered me two scenes at the Scarlet Pearl Casino: one as a lounge patron, the other as a millionaire at an art auction gala. Naturally, I said yes.

When I arrived at the old Scarlet Pearl buffet — now serving as the cast and crew dining area — I was told to check in, help myself to breakfast, and wait. Lots of waiting. Most of the people around me were first-timers too, but there were a few who did this kind of thing often. They were swapping tips and expectations. One veteran extra warned, “You’ll do more waiting than acting.” He wasn’t wrong.

Wardrobe checked my outfits and chose two looks — one for each scene. Hours later, I was called for the lounge shoot. They brought us to the casino steakhouse. One young woman and I were picked to be the featured background couple. We stood off-camera for over an hour while the two actors I had not heard of read lines at a dining booth.

Then, the director called it: “We got it.”

The crew clapped. My fake wife and I were never used in the scene.

Disappointed, I returned to the buffet, grabbed lunch, and waited for the next scene.

I still had not caught a glimpse of Travolta – this time. John Travolta and I once crossed paths about 25 years ago.

I was working in Tujunga, California, and just before flying home, a film crew asked my boss if they could paint the outside of his building for a shoot with John Travolta and Lisa Kudrow. I missed the shoot — but when I returned weeks later, production delays meant they were still filming. I got to watch several scenes being filmed. No autographs. No interaction. But I was there.

Now, two decades later, I was in a movie with Travolta… even though I had yet to catch a glimpse of him.

The art auction gala shoot was more rewarding. I was paired with a woman — one of many “wives” I’d have that day — and told to mingle, pantomime, and make it look like we were admiring the (fake) art.

That’s when she walked in. Rebecca De Mornay. My teenage crush. There she was, older but still exuding the charisma that burned up the train scene in Risky Business.

We whispered fake art talk, but eventually gave up and just had real conversations. The crew must’ve liked it. They moved our table right behind the main cast. Travolta was still a no-show — his stand-in filled the frame.

Later, they moved us poolside for an exterior scene. There was an explosion. We ran outside and looked toward the ocean (which was, in reality, just the fence at the pool). “The yacht’s on fire!” someone yelled. We did the take a dozen times. I was feet away from De Mornay the entire time. That night ended around 10 p.m., and I went home tired but still stoked I got to be in a scene with my teenage crush.

On my way home, I got a text from a friend. He asked if I had met Travolta. Nope, I told him. That bastard then sends me a selfie of him and Danny Zuko. He had heard the movie was shooting at The Roost in Downtown Ocean Springs, so he headed down there. John Travolta was taking pics with a crowd of locals.

When I got home, I had an email from the casting company. Could I work the next day? Absolutely. I was told to report to the IP Casino at 11 a.m. But when I arrived, none of the crew looked familiar. I asked if it was a different unit from the Cash Out 3 shoot. A puzzled crew member asked if I was in the right place. I wasn’t.

This was an entirely different movie — a gritty indie film called In Starland.

Somehow, I’d been cast in that too. Same casting company. Different movie. This time, I was a clubgoer. For six hours straight, I danced in a fake nightclub. To one song. Over and over.

Tootsie Roll.

If I never hear it again, I’ll be okay.

Back to Cash Out 3. My second official day was Thursday, the movie’s final day of shooting. It was a smaller crowd of extras, and this time, the call sheet said “JT” would be on set. Fingers crossed.

The shoot took place in the Scarlet Pearl’s VIP bar, a place where I had enjoyed more than a few drinks in the past. This time, I was back as part of a celebratory heist crew. I was seated right behind the main table where the stars — now all present — were filming the final scene of the film.

And yes, John Travolta was there. I was about three feet from him the entire shoot.

He’s soft-spoken, focused, and reserved between takes. He nodded to me a few times, but kept mostly to himself. The scene featured a magician who vanishes in a puff of smoke — a pyrotechnic effect that required multiple small explosions. I lost count of how many times we reset the take.

Each time, us extras mimed our conversations. No sound allowed. At one point, someone mentioned mouthing the word “watermelon” over and over to make it look realistic. Another suggested “peas and carrots,” a trick I’d once heard about on an episode of How I Met Your Mother.

The actors repeated the scene what seemed to be about forty times, each take with the camera in a new position.

It was long. It was quiet. It was smoke-filled. And it was unforgettable.

While some of the other background actors lived for this kind of thing, it was more of a bucket list moment for me. That said, if another opportunity rolls around, I’d definitely do it again.

As for the pay? Cash Out 3 offered $120 a day. In Starland paid $125—probably to compensate for the hours of dancing and Tootsie Roll exposure.

So no, I didn’t get my Travolta selfie. That honor went to my friend, along with dozens of others, who casually strolled downtown and caught him outside The Roost. Meanwhile, I was on the actual set — and still missed my moment.

That’s showbiz, I guess.

Now, like everyone else on the Coast, I’ll be watching closely when Cash Out 3 finally hits the screen. Will I be a blurred figure in the background? A half-second shoulder in a crowd? Or will this be my accidental Hollywood close-up?

I guess we’ll all have to wait and see.