The one where I go to the gala.

Around 11am I get an invite from Couchsurfing Eric, to hit up one of the last screenings at the Seattle International Film Festival. He picks me up and we get there late, but the tickets are complimentary after he thinly pretenses about being staff. Volunteer driver.

With many European films, there was some suicide attempt and nudity. Appropriate the film's title, Nu means both "now" and "naked" in French and Dutch. Afterwards an audience member, with much class, approached the director/actor, "I just saw you naked." But that's when I broke out my Dogma Rules film kid comment. At least it wasn't mis en scene. And the old man who was gushing in the back, is now picking up on the filmmaker with promises of investor's money.

I guess Eric was supposed to pick these guys up at the airport last week. So we make use of our titles, and I sit in the back with the guy who would win Best New Director and ask if he's just traveling with Nu filmmaker, as he's holding his award. They offer us to come to the final party of the festival and exchange numbers after we drop them at the hotel. Later that night we show up and I get psyched out by the first door as it was too easy to get in. Just carded us. But then when we run into Matt, star of Nu who is an architect (that doesn't just play one on the screen), and he sends us to green door. But they want a matching green wristband.

We get up to the red carpet and the ecentric couch surfer explains who we're with, our names, and I’m standing back knowing that we may full well be turned away. A woman in a lanyard brushes passed my velvet blazer, "Are you just waiting to get in?"

"Yes."

"Are you with him (Eric)?"

"Yes." She pushes the two out of the way at the podium who are making this entry hard on Eric, and casually tells them, "They have wristbands." But they're orange. "They're fine."

I fall into free drinks and fine pork slices. We find the auteur and hang out for a while and people take our pictures, and once again we talk in a mixture of Dutch and English about how he was naked in the movie. And then transition to the body paint at the Fremont Parade that happened Saturday. Or maybe that's where we started. I don’t know.

We head upstairs to visit the other Eric, best-new-director-Eric. Passing wine, and private screening rooms, and then finding the patio. He’s with Mathew and Mathew’s with his date, a judge from the festival. They say, funny for me to arrive, because they had just got done talking about the name "Hank." A Dutch name. But then I say I’m actually German and Norwegian, and we all practice my last name adding way more syllables than there should ever be. I meet some ladies from Pacific Place. And I get them to convince me that the winters aren’t that bad and that moving here would be a good idea. And then convince the actor Mathew that "book" is the trendy term for "cool" nowadays. He had been saying "phat," as that's the latest in Holland.

A hipster staff member, the same one who comp'd my ticket steals the best new director and they flirt on the edge of the roof. The lights all come on and the booze all gone, and the coat check is packed. I catch myself in the reflection of the elevator doors. We then join Mitzy and hipster and director and Mathew out down the block to the underground, invite only, after party. The first point at which I pay all night, but at least there's a band and unlimited drink. I was apprehensive because at first you couldn't even tell that there was spill over of filmmakers and all the people that thrive on being around them, with their staff passes and noses north.

"Is this a Boys and Girls club?" I’m drunk. The bald guy humors me, "Actually a lot of people have been asking if this is a school or something."

There’s a pillow room, pasta salad, and, you say, "Some one's actually complaining about free Pabst? If I had change I’d tip you." The dance floor was slow and I was the second out there and that hipster staff girl who gave me my comp ticket had lost her director and so I danced along side her but she left as soon as she came. I have a gin and tonic because it's closer, and then suddenly there's bowls of popcorn everywhere. I find Mathew and his date and Mitzy and they are all having a lot of fun. We dance, after I splash my new beer here and there, I dance more. I go to the bathroom what feels like a hundred times, and the line's ridiculous so I talk more with Mathew’s date and find out that she actually is an U of A alum. And she keeps saying, “Remember to tell Michael Mulcahy that I said hi." So then I repeat her name every time, as to remind myself and almost for the reassurance from her that I’m right. Leah Guerra.

I cut out because I had work in the morning, fought a huge smile the whole walk home up hill. It just reminded me of how much I'm going to miss this last year.

I don't know why I thought I was above posting this.

fig 1. View from my living room.

So as it turns out, the Earth: not flat.

Monday morning was the first day it had rained since I arrived in Seattle. I thought, it's about time. I've always loved the rain. And stairs. Two things you don't have in Arizona. Although, this is also why I don't own an umbrella. Or the seasoned cardio vascular system bred to climb the many hills that make up Downtown.

I was selective when passing out my super minimalist, home made business cards during my tour (guided by Lisa, VP) around the office. Going out of my way, when delivering them to each new hand, to call them "my contact information" rather than "my card." That was a courtesy more for my own dignity, than their stomach.

I meet Colleen Office Manager, and Trent. Business manager. "Hank's from the University of Arizona. So if you need him for anything." Trent has just come in, takes off his coat, taps the space bar on his keyboard. Trent's eye contact is lazy and he files his hands through papers on his desk as Lisa explains that, surprisingly, most interns seem to never seek him out during their time at Screaming Flea. "It was nice to meet you." The cubicle adjacent houses a delightful, but diluted version of Molly Shannon.

"This is Jodi, she heads our development team." I love your work. And not just Superstar. I mean, I have the VHS. Anyway,

"Hank," shakes hand, "Let me give you my contact."

Down the hall, "We need an door access card." Kelly works at writing an episode of Three Sheets, the company's most popular show. It follows this joe around the world to find the best drink specific to its region, a sort of alcoholic cultural bonanza.


fig 1. Zane

"Everyone in the office has a 'thing,'" Lisa explains, "Kelly has a snack each day that matches the color of his shirt." Um, Paul's one of the editors they keep in a small room with that grey egg crate bed-padding on the walls. He's one of the few I feel like I'd be friends with outside of work. There's the cinematographers, producers and interns past.

Right after I get my computer and password, and fancy telephone Lelia comes in worried someone else had found me for a task. We sit down and turns out she wants me to help out with some research for pre-production of a new series by the name of Test Drive. "It's got to have the same feel as Three Sheets, are you familiar?" Just watching the opening I felt like I had been a dedicated fan the span of the life of the show. It's for the iN Demand network MOJO, similar to cable's Spike- targeting affluent men 25-50. And you guessed it: Cars. My job today is to hunt down DB Drag National races in the North West over July and August, and talk to the Wayne Harris, president of the organization. What? They don't race, as much as they just pop open the back and see who's got the loudest stereo.

When updating George and Lelia the next day about what I had found, another producer came up and mistook me for Test Drive's host. No he's the intern.


fig 2.

"Well I’ll shake your hand anyway." Nice gesture. Later that afternoon I over hear her complaining that she’s got pink eye. I’m growing anxious, she shook my hand, knowing she had pink eye. But hey, it’s viral not bacterial. What?

Patrick is my Tuesday/Thursday fellow intern, desk neighbor. He takes the bus up from Tacoma, works four hours, and then convinces one of his local friends to pick him up. He spends a lot of time on Facebook and high-fiving writers of Gardening by the Yard. When he talks I fall into one of those Trent habits. Just repeating every last couple words he says, while writing an email or looking up phone numbers.

He'll say, "Yeah, I take the bus all the way from Tacoma. It sucks."

"That does suck." Now I don't really think it's that bad, especially because at one point I was going to ride the bus. And now apparently neither does he.

Defensively, "Well, it's not that awful."

Trent habits are getting me in trouble.

Later in the week I couldn't avoid the more traditional intern assignments. Transcribing hidden camera testimonials for Sell This House, and logging location and appearance releases for Tool Belt Diva. It gives me chance to move around. I like the room with Lee in it. She's the producer for STH and she's funny. She also suggested me a paying gig when I mentioned I'd be needing a part-time job. And it was good intentions, but after seeing a couple episodes of Doggy Day Care, I won’t be calling The Dog Lounge in inquiry of an application.

The bad news is the pool's closed for chemical treatment. The good news is that they have a jacuzzi.

I spent two and a half days traveling up the West coast. Sounds more glamorous before you take all the highways that avoid every major city and end up seeing and extension of Arizona for over 700 miles. But we made good time. I realized that Arby's should just stick to roast beef sandwiches, and that all that suburban sprawl really does bring heart ache (even twenty five years later). I moved in and celebrated over a few Fat Tires with my dad the night before he left for Pheonix. I'm sure I'll appriciate it when I want to flee to Vancouver, but this car now, just seems so rediculous.

I'm eager to meet the people of the city.