I was taking photos of this cool wrecked-neon sign. A car pulls up. A guy gets out, real hostile-like. "You need help with somethin'?" I told him I was taking photos. He says, "Do I get royalities?" I said, "Sure -- as soon as I make some," and launched into the born in Show Low, grew up in Coolidge, blah blah blah ... the whole small-town line. (You don't want to be perceived as an outsider in Arizona -- especially not in Superior.) That calmed him down some and he began making snide comments about tourists taking photos of Superior's downtown area (which is abandoned, and which is where Stone shot the movie). "Of course, you're from around here, so you wouldn't care about that," he remarks. I laugh, he leaves, and naturally we head straight downtown. So we're walking around down there, it's completely deserted, except for the people driving through in order to shoot us the customary Superior hostile glances, and here comes the bar owner, trolling by in his car. Well, what else has he got to do? I just waved -- what the hell else did I have to do?