This week, I had the unique opportunity to spend time in Boston with the cast and crew as they filmed Super Troopers 3. It wasn’t the first time I’ve had a chance to witness something like this. Back in 2022, I visited Steve Lemme and Kevin Heffernan on the set of Tacoma FD during the filming of Season 4. Both experiences left me with the same feeling: a strange mix of humor, humility, and perspective.
On the surface, it was easy to get caught up in the comedy. The actors missed lines, laughed at each other’s mistakes, reset, and tried again. It was hilarious to watch them crack jokes in between takes, then snap into character to deliver what the script required. But what struck me wasn’t just what was happening in front of the camera; it was the machine behind it. The grips, producers, sound engineers, and countless crew members, each quietly locked into their role, each one essential to making the whole thing work. Nobody needed the spotlight, and yet the production would have crumbled without them.
Quiet Contributions
We were flies on the wall for most of the day, asked to sit quietly, careful not to interfere. At times it was almost uncomfortable – to sit still, to stay silent, to resist the urge to insert yourself into the noise. But that discomfort was also humbling. Because sometimes the best thing you can do is to step back, watch, and learn. In those moments, you see the whole system at work. You start to realize how much dignity there is in each person simply doing their job well.
It reminded me of the firehouse. When someone from the outside steps into our world, they don’t see everything. They catch flashes of the culture, fragments of what it takes to keep the wheels turning. And just like on set, the question is whether they’re met with patience and courtesy, or whether we let our guard down and forget that their glimpse matters.
On set, the respect we were shown – the way people treated us as guests even while they were under pressure – is a reminder we owe the same to anyone who comes through our doors.
Two Worlds, One Lesson
This point landed even harder later in the week when I stopped at a firehouse in Boston. The visit was quick, but the difference in atmosphere was impossible to miss. Instead of being welcomed in, I felt like we were an inconvenience. There was a kind of quiet size-up, the sense that we were interrupting their routine, taking up space we hadn’t earned.
The contrast couldn’t have been clearer. On a film set with tight schedules, big money, and pressure to get it right, we were treated like guests – invited in, shown patience, and even shared lunch with the cast and crew. At the firehouse, a place that should feel like home to me, the welcome was guarded, almost reluctant. One left me feeling included; the other left me feeling like an outsider.
That comparison has been sitting with me. It made me think about the people who come through our own doors – families, kids, rookies, visitors who are just curious. Do they leave feeling like they were welcomed into our world, or do they leave feeling like they had to prove they belonged? Those small moments matter more than we realize.
Here’s the truth: it was a lesson for me, and one I think we can all learn from. Not every day gives us the chance to change someone’s life, but every single day gives us an opportunity to make a difference, even in the smallest way. Those moments might not feel monumental at the time, but they stack up, and they matter. I need to continue to pay more attention to them, to fight for them, and I challenge you to do the same. Because in the end, people may forget the details of what was said or done, but they’ll never forget how you made them feel in the moment.
