To a casting director, he might have seemed the perfect impatient New Yorker broad, bald and with a booming voice, tattoos on his neck and hands visible under his construction jacket. Justin Hunter stood in line outside the Park Slope Food Coop, one of several dozen shoppers spaced 6 feet apart in a queue that stretched around the corner.
Hunter's attitude, though, was all wrong for the part. No griping about store management, no shoving ahead toward entrance not even a hint of annoyance.
"That's your normal, is people being on top of you," Hunter said about New York. "Now that people are not on top of you, it's become, Well this is what we're doing now.'"
