In the Weeds: Around the World and Behind the Scenes with Anthony Bourdain

by Tom Vitale

Real life doesn’t offer clear beginings, of course. At least, we rarely recognize them as such at the time.

one of Tony’s mottos, “Prior preparation prevents piss-poor performance,” was drilled into my head,

“Wide,” Tony said. “Wide” was Tony’s code word, meaning as far as he was concerned the conversation—and the scene—was done.

When in the right mood, he could fucking talk, elevate the mundane into high art. Extreme, subtle, sentimental, amused, apoplectic, or sarcastic, his reactions spanned the gamut, and it was ideal when the content flowed naturally, but sometimes he needed a little help.

Once I resigned myself to dying in a train wreck, I started really enjoying the real-life roller coaster ride. The beer helped.

I think more than a punishment, the real lesson Tony wanted to impart was my understanding—however briefly—of what he felt, to truly appreciate the dehumanizing indignity and torture of being on camera.

Is there such a thing as vacation-of-a-lifetime PTSD where your main tormentor is also your hero, mentor, and boss?

Stingy tipper, vegan, mediocre, tea drinker, late, or a fan of Jimmy Buffett’s music, you’re off the show.

Finding people with a good point of view for Tony to interact with on camera allowed us to look at a place through someone else’s eyes.

Some people are better off left in their cage.”

That was one of the great things about Tony. He never shied away from complicated topics or from presenting himself in an unflattering light. And Tony wasn’t just honest about it, he often bent over backward to highlight just how manipulative the TV machine could be.

Tony repeatedly said, “The best piece of writing advice I can offer is to kill your baby. Lose what you think is your best line. It’ll be better.”

Tony was a big believer in failing gloriously in an attempt to do something interesting, rather than succeeding at being mediocre.

TONY WAS CHAMPION OF THE misunderstood, stragglers, stalwarts, pioneers, lovable drunks, the marginalized—those left behind or left out or fallen by the wayside.

The hotel was gloriously out of step with time and possessed a haunting boutique-Shining-meets-Hollywood-royalty ambience. Opening in 1929 as an apartment building, it immediately went belly-up with the stock market crash. Every room was a suite and retained vintage kitchen equipment, as well as at least ten ashtrays. Despite September being peak season, it always felt like you had the place to yourself. The public spaces were eternally dim, making it easy to trip over antique deep-pile Persian rugs, especially after a few Negronis. Medieval revival cast-iron wall sconces and titanic chandeliers did little to illuminate Spanish tiles and the delicately stenciled coffered ceiling of the sunken lounge. Mismatched and slightly worn oversize sofas and tasseled Moroccan lampshades surrounded a grand piano that had been played by everyone from Jimi Hendrix to Judy Garland. After a few more Negronis you almost expected to bump into James Dean on the staircase or F. Scott Fitzgerald at the kidney-shaped pool. The scent of gardenias and a supernatural hint of vanilla mixed with cigarette smoke hung in the air.

Love this imagery so much

Tony was a bit of a watch nut. Perhaps his most prized possession was a vintage 1960s Rolex he’d inherited from his father, whom he missed dearly. He often wore his dad’s watch on shoots; maybe it was Tony’s way of bringing him along on the trip.

Tony has this way of speaking to everyone, both sides of the aisle. That’s really rare.”

But the unfortunate reality was that I was so stressed in the moment that I rarely ever enjoyed the trips enough to be thankful for them while they were happening.

Tehran was also a modern, cosmopolitan city of over 8 million that reminded me a lot of Los Angeles, as well as being perhaps the friendliest place I’d ever visited.

Jet lag and antimalarials make for cheap thrills.

“I feel a little awkward sitting in front of all this good food with you guys standing there working. Did you get something to eat?” President Obama asked before starting the scene. He was one of the few people in the thousands we’d filmed who inquired if the crew was hungry.

As if I needed another reason to love him

Tony frequently said that his great sadness in life was that he wasn’t born into a big Italian family.

Same.

I got to tell Tony that we were expecting a little girl. When I told him, Tony smiled, shook my hand, and said, ‘Now you’ll have your sun and your moon.’

Blessed with a gift for elevating the mundane to the absurd, Tony’s imagination was so powerful he could literally make his own reality come alive. I loved the way he reinterpreted the gray everyday, making it more colorful. It might not have always been easy living in Tony’s world, but it was never boring.

Looking back, I didn’t see the warning signs, although there were some. It was less about his musings on death, karma, and spirituality, and more so his attempts to show me that he cared. Repeated requests to hang out are what stand out most.

Faced with tangible evidence that Tony had cared, would I finally have to admit that I’d convinced myself he hated me so I wouldn’t have to accept the magnitude of the loss?