I’ve been gone a while.
My friend Donna and I have been at the Sundance film festival.
This is us standing outside the Egyptian Theatre on Main Street in Park City.
I love the ad behind us. Cafe Bustelo. What a cool word, Bustelo.
Anyway, I have wanted to go to Sundance and stay an entire 5 days and watch movies until my eyes bleed and my psyche is filled with the esoteric notions of visionary filmmakers. Ah, the joy I felt when I – in my infinite smartness – went on-line and bought 2 Express Passes that would allow us to see anything and everything with no waiting, no frostbite, no middle seats where you couldn’t get out if you had to pee or the movie sucked.
I was feeling quite smug…. so much smarter than the average bear at this point. We will be a festival goers who have “figured it out”; those lucky folks who stroll past the wait list lines that meader and twist through a maze of metal gates, herded like cattle by officials bearing earpieces and authority.
But fate has a way of body slamming you when you least expect it. Like some sort of cosmic reminder that you’re not as smart as you think you are.
ME AS A SMUG ASSHOLE TALKING TO FATE:
I am the fucking bomb! This pass thing is the best idea I’ve ever had. I mean, I’m probably the only one who even knows about it!
Yeah, not bad for a human. But listen, it’s not a good idea to brag, you know.
ME (see dangerous attitude noted above):
I’m not bragging! I’m just….telling it like it is, you know?
Pride is one of the seven deadly sins.
Oh, man! Don’t throw all that biblical shit at me. Can’t you just agree with me for once?
This is when Fate said something under its breath that sounded a bit like “You’re going down you arrogant bitch”.
What was that?
I’m going down for a sandwich. Uh…maybe you should find out where the Sundance ticket office is.
And so I did.
And I realized I had purchased two passes for the wrong set of days.
And then I vomited.
But Fate took pity on me and I threw myself on the mercy of the Sundance court who agreed to change the passes for the proper week. I just wish I hadn’t smelled so strongly of vomit when I walked up to the counter, my face as white as the snow cover just outside the door. Maybe they exchanged the passes just to get me out of there. Whatever the reason, the relief I felt was….well, I don’t think there’s a word to describe it really. I wanted to collapse for the second time.
Fate, I shall never tempt you again. I vow henceforth to read all instructors in all their minute detail and leave nothing to chance.
But, dear Fate, I have just one question regarding your policy on cruel twists:
Why couldn’t you have made ME the tall, beautiful brunette?