It has always been easy for me to become obsessed with something. Take "Ghostbusters" One day at the hair salon last year, I was reading People Magazine while waiting for my highlights to set. I came across a picture of Chris Hemsworth donning glasses and riding a tricked-out motorcycle. The caption read “Who You Gonna Call? Chris Hemsworth on the set of next summer’s reboot of the classic comedy "Ghostbusters."

Huh, I thought. Well, if Thor from "The Avengers" (which I was already obsessed with thanks to my brother showing me the films) is in this movie, I’ll go see it.

But I should probably watch the original first, I told myself. Just so I know what’s going on.

And watch I did. And let me tell you, I was far from disappointed.

How could I not like "Ghostbusters?" It had four of the funniest guys on the planet (Dan Aykroyd, Bill Murray, Ernie Hudson, and the late Harold Ramis); it took place in New York City; the main conflict was a battle between humans and spirits; and let’s not forget that epic theme song by Ray Parker Jr. Which you can check out here .

In short, I loved it. And I was really looking forward to seeing the remake.

However, I read in the paper one day that certain scenes in the new movie would be shot in Boston instead of New York. Even cooler!

But a few weeks later, the coolest thing of all happened.

I was watching the late night news with my mother when a bulletin came on that read: Calling all Ghostbusters! Film crew seeking out extras for new scene.

My mother and I looked at each other with silly grins on our faces. “Just do it!” She said. “What do you have to lose?”

That was a good point. So I went on to the Boston Globe website to get more information. The film crew needed extras for a rock concert scene, in which concert goers would be rocking out loud as a Ghost lurks above the audience.

I had to submit a picture of myself before submitting my entry form. I came across a shot that I figured might boost my chances of being asked to come to the set. It was a selfie I had taken in my dorm room: I was wearing a black lacy dress with a big Betsey Johnson necklace around my neck, and you could see my vintage Green Day poster in the background.

It seemed like a pretty good rock and roll image, so I pressed enter.

Two weeks went by, and I actually forgot about it for a while. After all, it had all been for fun. I had never really won any big contests in my life, so I wasn’t exactly holding my breath on this one.

You can imagine my shock when I received a phone call from an unknown number towards the end of July.

A bubbly voice on the other end asked for Jacquelyn Jarnagin. Confirming myself, the woman introduced herself as Samantha. She was from Star Casting Boston, and wanted to know if I was available to come to the Ghostbusters set for the next two days. They were shooting in Boston, at the Citi Wang Theater. Naturally, I said yes. Then she gave me instructions: I had to be on the set by 6:30 A.M., wearing an outfit that I would wear to a rock concert. Of course, even though it was summer, I had to wear fall-style punk clothes since the scene took place in October (obviously.). As soon as I arrived at the hotel where the extras were required to wait, I would leave my personal belongings in a holding room guarded by security—and yes, cell phone included. I wouldn’t be allowed to share ANYTHING once I was on set. Meals would be provided, and I would leave as soon as a wrap was confirmed. I told Samantha I agreed to the rules and regulations, and she thanked me and told me she looked forward to working with me tomorrow.

As I hung up the phone, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I didn’t care that I was in the supermarket—I squealed with joy as I hugged my mother. I was going to be in a movie!

The next morning, I woke up at 4:30 and started to work some magic. I opted to wear a black cami and pair it with a black pencil skirt. For that extra touch, I put on some fishnet stockings and zipped up my black leather jacket. Finally, I added my Nike sneakers and my silver watch pendant. As far as makeup went, I kept it subtle with just cover-up and some mascara. And of course, a nice coat of some vivid red lipstick.

I grabbed my turquoise Coach bag and hopped on the Red Line to Park Street. While I felt like an aspiring movie star, some creeps on the T took me as a hooker just getting back from a night on the job. To their credit, if you see a woman on the subway dressed the way I was dressed at 6 o’ clock in the morning, you’d be suspicious.

Ignoring the shocked glances, I saw another woman in big black boots wearing a denim skirt and black tank. She took one look at me and smiled, asking, “Hey, you here for 'Ghostbusters'?"

“Yes!” I replied.

“Pay no mind to the passengers. I’ve been an extra before, and it happens all the time. But we gotta do what we gotta do, right?”

I nodded, telling her I had never done something like this before.

As we walked towards the check-in center, Bethany (the woman’s name) told me, “You’re in for a great time.”

And a great time I had, right from the moment I signed in. Upon filling out a non-disclosure agreement and giving my belongings to security, I was given a paper bracelet that read 2016 Ozzy Rock Revenge Fest: Maple Street Theater, New York.

I see what you did there, I thought to myself as I snapped the bracelet on.

I walked into the waiting area, where there was a breakfast buffet waiting. But I was too tired and excited to stomach anything, so I sat down at a table where a few other extras were sleeping and drifted off to dreamland.

Just as I fell into REM sleep, I heard a loud voice telling us to line up by our call numbers. It was time to go to wardrobe and makeup.

Walking behind a couple who looked like they came out of an Aerosmith music video, I couldn’t help but grin. A Hollywood makeover.

I went to wardrobe and traded in my sneakers, skirt, and cami for combat boots and a military green cami—long enough to pass for a dress on my small frame. Then I met up with makeup. The makeup artist—Betsey Johnson’s doppelgänger—closely examined my face and said, “Okay, you’re good to go!”

I was confused. Really? Natural makeup and hair in a headband and I was ready?

“You’re a natural beauty, honey. We need that here!”

Okay, I thought. Wow, I wanted a makeover, and I didn’t need one. Not fair!

But I had no time to complain—it was time to go to set.

We extras walked in an orderly fashion across the street to the Citi Wang Theater, where we saw signs reading “Flapjack”. As it turns out, Flapjack was the name of the fictional band playing during our scene. Naturally, a green ghoul would come out and attack the lead singer while us audience members rocked out loud. We had to act like the ghost was part of the show, and then gradually freak out as we realize the ghost isn’t a special effect.

I had been to the Citi Wang Theater before, but it had never looked the way it did on that day: extremely low-key lighting, police “DO NOT CROSS” tape outside the main entrance, the biggest collection of rock merchandise in the lobby, and wires everywhere.

The real action (to an extent) came as we hustled into the theater. Up on the stage, I could see a large camera system and gigantic rock flyers on the side. Oh, and some geek-chic females donning those iconic jump suits.

Yep, it was about to get real.

However, we weren’t about to get a close-up just yet. Our instructor told us to take a seat and be ready as necessary. Each time we heard, “Quiet on the set!”, we needed to keep our mouths shut while a scene was shot. Fine by me, I thought.

I curled up on a vintage plush seat and gossiped briefly with a beach blonde from Miami. Apparently, she had been an extra on "Spring Breakers" the year before. This girl was a seasoned professional, and I was just here because I loved "Ghostbusters" But we did have one thing in common: Rock and Roll music was a shared obsession. We shot the breeze about Panic! At the Disco, Green Day, Aerosmith, and every other great band.

It made sense that the two of us were chosen to portray concert goers.

Shortly thereafter, we fell asleep. Until a loud voice said, “Quiet on the set!”

My friend and I looked up. Sure enough, the stunt doubles for the main characters were aiming their proton packs at a “ghost” (A small ball with green LED lights) and bringing it into a ghost trap. It may have been all pretend, but I got the chills nonetheless. I was witnessing the process of filmmaking firsthand, an aspiring critic’s dream.

Then it was our turn. The instructor led us to the mosh pit, where the camera man told us to raise our hands in the rock and roll symbol with our tongues hanging out our mouths.

As the cameraman said, “Rolling!”, I started bobbing my head up and down to the beat of the rock song.

“CUT!”

Now we had to do the same thing, only look up in the air as a green ghost flew over the audience. “Pretend to be confused, then act like it’s no big deal.”

The cameras were rolling as a smoke machine signaled the entrance of a small green camera, representing the spirit attempting to take over the band leader’s body.

The next scene got more intense as the band’s singer was literally thrown into the air as the demon possessed him.

“Excuse me, miss? Can you come with me please?”

I looked up to see a cameraman motioning me towards the left side of the stage. There was a large camera where I had to go, and I had no idea what was about to happen. Another woman—tall, long black hair, wearing a spiked silver necklace—was next to me.

“All righty then,” said a British fellow getting ready for the shot. “You too are aunt and niece, rocking out, and then you need to look shocked. You two will be the first people to notice the ghost.”

The woman flashed me a grin as we kneeled down in front of the camera, rock symbols ready. It took us three attempts to get the shot right, and my “Aunt” and I saw the final shot as we went back to the resting area.

Two minutes of fame? Check!

After several more hours of waiting and shooting, we finally heard our salvation: “That’s a wrap!”

But they needed us back on set the next day at 6:30 A.M. The price of fame.

The next day went about the same as the first, only this time I got to meet the director. It was pretty accidental: I was on my way back from the bathroom, and I almost ran into a polished man in a nice suit. “Hello,” He said with an outspoken hand. “Thanks for being here today. It may not seem like you’re doing a lot, but believe me when I say you’re a big part in this movie.” In my typical socially awkward fashion, I stuttered out, “Th-, thank you.”

Smooth, huh?

It got better: We were all introduced to Leslie Jones, the woman behind Patty Tolan. She waved to us all and said, “Thanks, guys, I know you’re exhausted!”

Before we left the set one last time, we saw Jones practice her lines on the stage. It was something to the effect of, “Girlfriend, how am I supposed to hold still with a damn ghost on my back?!”

And that’s the story of my role in Ghostbusters. And a message to all haters out there: Yeah, it looks ridiculous, pointless, and weird—that’s what the critics of the original movie said when the first trailer was released, and look what happened. MASS HYSTERIA!!!

People loved it. And ten-to-one says history will repeat itself. Hate now, love later.

Check it out!