Directors and Producers and Actors! Oh My! Part III

Freaky Friday

It’s an odd phenomenon.  You see, when I leave the Wash/Metro area for a vacation – or for whatever reason such as 1) I’m running away from home 2) my blood pressure is similar to that of Mount St. Helen’s pre-eruption and unless I leave town I may just explode – I actually achieve REM and I get up early, practically skipping out of bed.  My odd behavior can turn rather annoying to my travel mates, particularly after an all night champagne binge.  Strangely enough, I feel no post-party results when I’m away.  It’s like all my indiscretions (drinking, eating, singing karaoke, dancing in the street) have magically left my system.  Yet, teleport me back home and ouch.  Do I feel it the next day.  Can someone please explain this to me?

As to be expected, I was up at the crack of dawn Friday.  Like “BING!” my eyes flew open and there was an obnoxious Cheshire Cat grin on my face.  Granted, there was nothing cozier than the womb of the flannel sheets and super comfy bed, but with the combination of being on East Coast time and the pure joy of being away from home on an adventure, my body needed to rise. Plus, the winks of light were beginning to shine into my room.  I mean, why sleep when you can get the day started at … wait, oh wait. I glanced at my BlackBerry, which like a coddled newborn, had become the object of my spooning as of late (sometimes I wake up with the gifts of tiny indentations on my cheek left from the keyboard).

Crap, it’s only 6am here. I thought now would be a good time to start texting all my friends at home who were most likely awake or at the very least would not be offended by my cheery morning greeting.  “What are you doing up?” I received back. “Why are you up so early? You are on vacation. Go back to bed.” and “What are you doing texting me? Aren’t you supposed to be away and relaxing? I guess you didn’t get lucky last night, haha!”  I threw my Berry on the floor and turned my attention towards something that did appreciate me at this hour. My suitcase.

Within an hour, I’d unloaded my attire and had all clothing articles neatly folded, stacked, and hung up, like I was moving in.  My photos from the evening prior were uploaded to the MacBook.  I glanced at the correct Mountain time displaying on the Bose bedside radio.  Great, it’s 8:30, I can leave my quarters and not feel like I’m waking up the world.   Within moments, fueled by numerous cups of coffee, fruit and blueberry pancakes, the plan was laid out and it was time to get ready for the day.

David and I swung by where Andy was staying which wasn’t too far away.  The sky was gray, almost dingy. The snow was coming down heavily with no intention on stopping.  We weren’t able to see the mountain tops which hid from us behind the thick foggy clouds.  “On a sunny day, you can see all the way up to the top of these mountains,” David pointed out.  “I’ll take your word for it.  I’m sure it’s beautiful.” I was more concerned at the time that we didn’t die a slow painful snowy death on the hilly roads as we entered the area of Main Street.  “Here we are again,” David gestured towards a few buildings. “We were at lower Main Street last night for the parties. We’re going to park at the church up at the top of Main Street now because we have a parking pass.”  Andy and I gave each other an approving nod.  “We know who to hang with! It’s David!  David’s got our back.”

When we climbed out of the car, we had a chance to take in the true level of steepness which surrounded us. I felt like I was at the bottom of life-size cereal bowl.  The town was full of quaint older square shaped homes (worth multiple millions), each with porches where dagger shaped icicles of various forms had frozen mid-drip.  They were stunning to view.  As we carefully made our way down the stairs next to the church to get to Main Street, we commented on the dangerously pointed shapes.  “Um, they are everywhere. How deadly….how do you suppose people – AAGH!” and BAM! a huge pile of snow fell off a roof right next to me.  Andy, who was first in our row, then David swung around.  “Holy … are you ok?”

“Sure, just a mild heart attack, but that’s nothing a good cold beer can’t fix,” I replied.  The snow continued flowing which made it not only hard to move forward all the while fearing a future splat-like position, but also challenging to even see.  We all wore sunglasses because while not sunny, the reflection off the snow was significant.  We continued down, making note of the residences and the boards with Sundance film posters plastered all over.

Our pseudo tour guide David announced, “Ready? We can make this a ‘bar crawl’ day.  You haven’t seen the town in the daylight. We’ll go to a few places, start at the top, move down and-” “do some shopping in between!” I interjected enthusiastically.  Of course, I didn’t consider the challenge of traipsing tipsy through mushy, heavily stacked mounds of snow down hill with bags to balance.  I was on vacation! Nothing was impossible.

Our first stop (by the way, it was about 11:45ish and Main Street was pretty quiet) was the famous Wasatch Brew Pub, famous mostly for its tasty Polygamy Porter – remember we were in UTAH.  We opened the door, stomped the snow off, taking in the warmth and the few patrons already finding comfort in their bar stools.

“Let’s check out the shop,” Andy suggested and we started picking up hats, tees, jackets, and nick nacks with the Wasatch logo emblazoned across.  There were more than enough advertisements reminding us of the Mormon state we were in, all in good fun of course.  David and I had found it ironic that the advertisements on Delta’s personal On Demand screens flying out to Salt Lake touted HBO’s “Big Love” as the show to watch.

When we were finished browsing and not buying we chose to hit the bar.  While I tried the Raspberry Wheat, Andy volunteered to imbibe in the Polygamy Porter.  I mean, you can’t very well come to Wasatch and not have at least a sip of its famous porter, yes?

“You guys are great conversationalists,” David remarked dryly as he observed Andy and me on our seats with our faces in our respective mobile devices.  We both looked up, “We’re TWEETING!” And with that, so began David’s full on entree into the Twitter World.  Andy and I (more so Andy), eagerly provided David with a quick tutorial and before you knew it, he was well on his way.  Oh yes, @dvennett was soon one popular handle for many reasons… but we’ll get into that. (Dave Matthews sound familiar?)

Moving on to our next bar in the “Bar Crawl” (which by the way, was our second and last, what a Bar Crawl that was), we found the streets to be more crowded than earlier.  We chose to hit up Flanagan’s a bit further down, which was smack in the middle of a busy lunch hour.  The place was packed, everyone drinking, digging into sandwiches, bar food, beers, and decked out in comfortable casual attire, including muddy snow covered boots (meaning the floors were slippery – Achtung!)

We grabbed a huge booth knowing we’d have Andy’s friend Susan join us, as she was flying in that afternoon.  After we’d ordered a whole slew of appetizers and more beer (hey, altitude, dryness, and trudging in the snow makes a woman thirsty and hungry!), we sat back content, deciding what was next on the hit parade.  Ploughing through our meal, we made the executive decision to go the Marriott which was known to everyone as the “Sundance Film Festival HQ”.  I glanced at my BlackBerry which was ringing.  “Michael Nash!” I squealed announced.  “Hey! Where are you?”

“We’re on Main Street,” the Climate Refugees filmmaker replied.

“Really? So are we!”

“Ok, well, we are going to get a bite to eat at Flanagan’s.”

“No way! We’re here right now!”

“We’re walking in!”

“Great, we have a huge booth, you and your group-” I stopped and looked at my plate which held the remnants of French fries and a rather unhealthy version of a sandwich -  a Reuben sans the corned beef, but still, it looked rather unsavory and well … a plate more suited for a man to have been munching on, “Yes, you and your group can join us if you want.” I hung up and looked directly at an Andy who was busy Tweeting. “Andy, give me your plate, take mine!” Andy, a year round triathlete, had chosen to accompany his beer with a light salad and tuna tartare.  His salad bowl was virtually empty, save a lettuce leaf here and there and the tuna was polished off.  I nodded at target: Salad Bowl.

“Um, ok,” he said egregiously.  Like a marathon baton, the switch was made just as Michael and his group, inclusive of Justin, his fiance, and some of his crew walked up to the booth.  Sitting down, after making all the introductions, we began chatting about the night prior and found out about this concept (and more than likely a wildly profitable and popular business) called a “Music Taxi”, where the taxi van is set up for karaoke.  Yes, how much do you want that here in DC? Actually, I don’t really think Washington is ready for a Music Taxi quite yet.

Susan finally arrived and we ended staying for about an hour longer, taking photos to capture memories to be fondly be viewed again and again on Facebook and Flickr.  We cheered to Sundance, Climate Refugees, Justin’s recent engagement, Twittering, and any other reason that seemed proper at the time.

When the bill came we split up and walked out into the now slushy, crowded sidewalk.  It was Friday afternoon of Sundance opening weekend and the world was beginning to descend upon the otherwise sleepy ski town.  Susan, Andy, David and I went off to tour more of lower Main Street, the snow never ceasing. We passed by AC Slater (Mario Lopez) on the street. “My first celebrity spotting,” I announced to no one in particular.  Then we chose to do what any normal slightly buzzed group would do.  We walked from lower Main to upper Main, trudging along (remember, altitude, beer, and walking uphill does not a comfortable situation make, but it sure does wonders for the legs and glutes) to the car.  Leaving the town to head to the Marriott, or SUNDANCE TWENTYTEN HQ, we waited patiently for our “credentials”, you know, all the cool kids had them. They were the recognizable neon name tags slipped into a clear plastic holder held by a purple lanyard that everyone wore.

What did these creds get you? Admittance to Sundance House, Filmmaker Lodge, Salt Lake City Festival Cafe, the Music Cafe, and New Frontier on Main. For all official Sundance parties, you had to have your creds on you.  It was kind of the running joke of the trip -like American Express, you didn’t leave home with out it.  Did we use them to go to any of the aforementioned places? Um. No. But hey, it made one feel a bit official, in a way.

Back at the house, we had some time to rest up, shower and change for the evening.  Philippe, who was physically exhausted from about 4 days of snowboarding all day at The Canyons, joined us for wine and cheese.  Then, we took off for a night of debauchery.

Main Street was wall to wall people at this point.  Long lines formed in front of bars that in another city during any other time, one would enter at her own risk.  Annoyed by the crowds and ridiculous entrance fees, we decided to end up at dive bar (where we were first told the door was $5, then 5 minutes later, because the doorman was suddenly attuned to the lines forming and decided that it was now $10 to enter) called O’Shucks.  Yes, I was at O’Shucks. Don’t judge.

Narrow, sardine packed, selling fishbowl sized cheap draughts, cans of Pabtz Blue Ribbons (aka: PBR’s), and shots of liquid I hadn’t seen since college frat parties, the place resembled “Dewey Beach without the snow”.  I felt like I really was at Dewey Beach, the year 2000, and I was wearing clothes.  Lots of clothes.  The seats were ripped, the scent a bit dank, and my frown was not turning upside down.  The writing was on the wall. Literally.  Not unlike a Key West let it all loose bar, patrons had left their mark with pens, crayons, markers, Sharpies, and probably bodily fluids.  Of course, I had to let those following our footsteps in the future know, the Punch had been there.

It wasn’t too much later that we chose to call it a night.  The next day was going to be long with movie screenings and hey, the weekend was just beginning.