I starred in a zombie-themed driver safety video. It went even worse than you'd expect

At some point, we've all had jobs we'd rather not look back on. But in my case, the gig I took as a broke twentysomething is simply impossible to forget. 

If only my brain had been devoured by zombies, a fate that befell most of my co-stars.  

It all started outside a bar in downtown Vancouver that hosted a regular storytelling night. After I told a story one night, this guy came up to me and told me that I would be perfect for the lead role of a film he's working on.

I'm no actor. But at the time, I was living in the dankest of dank basement apartments and slinging waffles in a breakfast joint. So, what did I have to lose? 

I read the script and learned that the film that I had been discovered for was a — wait for it — zombie-themed driver safety video, paid for by the municipal government of Metro Vancouver, for internal use only.

You can watch the video for yourself, but it plays out like this: As my character and his co-workers try to escape from the George Romero-style zombies running from building to building with the undead in hot pursuit, we are confronted with opportunity after opportunity to be safe while operating government vehicles.  

So I read it, and decided, I guess I'm an actor now? And I agreed to be the star of this film.

I even finagled a role for one of my friends, Peter Carlone, from my comedy troupe, which delighted him because his basement apartment was even danker than my basement apartment.

Zombie or prey?

When we arrived on set, we were greeted by the director and ushered to the makeup room where the makeup artist asks us straight-faced, "Are you zombie or prey?"

And for the first and likely only time this will ever happen my life, a director of a film gestured toward me and said, "This is the star!"

For the whole day we shot scenes where Peter and I are driving through the woods. Peter's driving, I'm yelling from the passenger seat.

And here's the thing: Of everyone on the shoot, I am the only person who knew that Peter, the person driving the vehicle in the driver safety video... did not have a drivers' license. And that this was in fact the first time in his life that he had even been on the driver's side of a vehicle.

You may find yourself wondering how, exactly, did Peter and I get to a place where, of the two of us, the one without the driver's license was the driver in this scenario? 

The fact is, there were so many other things happening around us — makeup touch-ups, lav-mic rejiggerings, director notes — that in our loosy-goosy takes and riffs, we failed to realize that we had inadvertantly established Peter's character as the driver. 

Nonetheless, we managed to get all the shots we needed, and it was time for the final big shot before we wrap. We were waiting for instructions. 

And that's when 40 extras showed up in zombie makeup.

For the first few takes, we were going so slow it was ridiculous. Zombies were passing us.

The director ambled up to our window and said, "Okay, so for this final shot, I'm going to direct all of our extras to mill about in the parking lot and Peter, if you could just weave the truck through them going as fast as you're comfortable with and then bring the truck to a screeching stop just short of that building over there? We'll have the shot we need."

So for the first few takes, Peter played it really, really safe. We were going so slow, it was ridiculous. Zombies were passing us. 

The director came up again. "Let's try it one more time. And Peter? Really go for it this time."

Peter wove through the zombies at a frenetic pace, accelerated toward the building and slammed on the brakes. 

And the tires squealed — as did our voices — as Peter crashed the government truck through the government building. In a driver's safety video paid for by the government.

Everybody froze. All the zombies were looking at us. It was such a big crash that people emerged from all the buildings looking at us like, what could you possibly be doing?

Wasn't it obvious? We were making a driver safety video.

The aftermath

Peter was beside himself. Usually, Peter was unflappable. But in this moment Peter was flapped. And I said, "Peter, I think you need to tell the director that you don't have a driver's license."

Peter spoke in hushed tones, so that no one (other than the sound guy still wearing headphones) could hear. He said, "So I probably should've come clean about this earlier, but um… I um. And this seems obvious now — but I…"

I jumped in. "Peter doesn't have a driver's license."

"I don't know how to drive," Peter added helpfully.

The director's eyes slowly drifted away from us and fixated on the truck protruding from the building. After a full minute of silence, he gestured for us to come closer and whispered…. "This conversation never happened."

For years after my star turn went public — well, in an "internal use only" kind of way — I couldn't even bring myself to watch "The Driving Dead." (Yes, that's what it's called.) I didn't even tell my wife about it. She knows now, and honestly, our marriage feels…. different now that she's seen it. 

But now, eight years after the fact, there's something to be said for the sight of myself, running like a panicked stick man figure in a hard hat and fluorescent yellow vest, trying my damnedest to remain calm and follow the rules while a chaotic zombie horde lurches after me — only to realize the real danger is coming from inside the truck because my best friend doesn't have a driver's license.

I mean, as far as metaphors go, isn't this the way we all kind of feel right now?

About the producer

Sam Mullins is a two-time Canadian Comedy Award-winning writer and performer in Toronto. 

This documentary was produced and edited with Jennifer Warren.