Houston, TX, May 23-26th, 2003
Memorial Day Weekend
Unfortunately for me, my birthday is in mid-April. When you live by an academic calendar, there's just no good there. Invariably, April is the beginning of end of semester panic. Your birthday ends up being overshadowed by homework and grading.
Couple that fact with my birthday being on Good Friday this year, which was cold and rainy, and that I turned 30 and had no one to celebrate with, I felt I was due for some fun.
Hello, Houston!
I was met at the airport by 'stina and of course, R.Go (pictured right). I was one of the first members of his original posse, back in the day in SF, and we were both thrilled to start the reunion tour. (For those of you who followed the news reports, the stories about him attacking that garbage man with no provocation are CHEAP PAPARAZZI LIES! He was defending his honor and his women, namely ME. That's right, I am the "unidentified New York companion" who started the whole melee. R.Go went to the hoosegow for 10 days because of me. I only hope my next boyfriend is that loyal.)
We were not even out of the airport when 'stina informed me that we were going to spend part of our weekend watching naked gay men get painted. If it had been anyone else telling me this, I might have been perplexed. This being 'stina, I merely nodded and said, "OK."
Most of the weekend was filled with driving hither and yon around Houston. There was antiquing with moppety, a trip up to see SarahNicole and her very professorial-looking office, and so much good food I was almost tempted to move to Houston on the spot. I also came down with a horrible case of house-envy, the effects of which are still with me.
But I know what you're all waiting to hear about: the naked men.
'stina's sister is a major domo at the Houston Art League and they held an event at a local club. Three (gay) male models acted as living canvasses for three local painters. Obviously, the models were all incredibly good looking, and there was much luxurious ogling going on in the room. We settled ourselves in to observe Mark -- whom we concluded was the illegitimate future love child of Matt Damon and Ben Affleck who had inherited the best features of both his parents -- being painted. I began goofing around with the camera, because let's face it, God only knows when another such opportunity will ever come my way. I was however polite enough to ask permission first.
So we watched Mark be painted by Brian and worshipped by most of the patrons, male and female alike, for a few hours. Throughout all this, Mark was kind and polite but firm with everyone; he had a boyfriend, but thanks.
When the time came for us to leave in search of food, I shook Mark's hand and thanked him for letting me tape his progress as a human canvas. I explained that I would probably put a sample of the footage up on the Net at some point, and would that be okay with him?
Which is how I - the straight female from out of town - ended up being the only person to leave the club with his contact information.
If looks could kill, I would've died in the parking lot.
Toronto, ON July 11-13 2003
I spent a week at home over Fourth of July, letting my mother buy me housewares (ah the "go with parents" rule), and going to SeaBreeze Amusement park for the first time in about two decades. We rode the Jack Rabbit roller coaster! It's one of the oldest wooden roller coasters in the US. It was fantastic. All that summer session stress melted away after screaming bloody murder in the tunnel a few times.
I drove to Toronto on Friday morning. In retrospect, I could've gone up there Thursday night and then used Friday to shoot some Toronto streets footage which I still do not have. As it was, I hit horrible rain just as I was getting into the city and really needed to be able to read road signs. Also I had my own personal re-enactment of "Duel" on the Gardiner. Damn truckers.
Despite the passage at arms on the expressway, I arrived at Chez Chrissy without incident. amberlynne at least found the block with no trouble, although she got an accidental tour of the dumpsters. I'd like to point out neither of us has ever driven to Toronto on our own before, whereas shehawken has been there numerous times, had someone else in the car with him, and *still* got lost.
Chez Chrissy is awesome. But then, any place that has A/C looks good to me. Throw in the balcony and I was sold. Cleio is really constantly on the prowl for some lovin, and really doesn't care who's giving it to her. I admire that in a cat.
There was much eating of food and consuming of alcohol over the weekend, of course, combined with witty and sometimes not witty but still hysterically funny conversations. We took in a showing of "Pirates of the Caribbean." Captain Jack Sparrow is Chrissy's imaginary gay boyfriend (far be it from me to stand in between a woman and her imaginary harem). "They've taken Elizabeth!"
Angelgazer, bless her benevolent heart, gave me the living room of her house to conduct my interviews, and dragged a truly hideous lamp in from the garage to assist with the lighting, all in addition to hosting the barbecue on Saturday night. She wins the hostess with the mostess award for the year, no question.
I saw Missi for the first time in years and we did some major film geek bonding all weekend. Even if she is a total freak when it comes to chocolate chip cookies. I'd like to state once again for the record that I did not do anything to MAKE her cry in her interview. It just happened. And it all evened out because godeater nearly made *me* cry during his interview. *sniff*
Perhaps the highlight of the weekend, though, was meeting PDR, whom I've talked to at great length in the old Bronze days and on AIM, about movies, politics and "cabbages and kings" but never got to meet face to face before. We would've met earlier if the goober had called my cell phone instead of my home phone, but that's ultimately irrelevant. The joy of this meeting was somewhat tempered by learning that PDR's version of hell apparently involves sitting in Angelgazer's backyard with amberlynne, Missi, and myself. In a world with no cheese.
Some people may be surprised to learn that sitting still and being an active listener while you ask the same questions over and over again is extremely tiring. Or possibly not. Either way, by the time I wrapped the last interview Saturday night, I was wiped. I spent the rest of the evening somewhat spaced out in the corner of the couch, cuddling with various people, only half aware of conversations. Although I distinctly remember having godeater on my lap. Apparently, he's about as tall as Angelgazer's couch is lengthwise.
Something I'd like to put on record: I always, always, ALWAYS want a backrub. I have terminally tense shoulders and any time I'm not sleeping in my own bed, especially if air travel or long hours in the car have been involved, my neck gets very stiff. I don't stand on ceremony. If you see me, feel free to just start massaging my shoulders at will. (Erm, unless I don't actually know you. In that case, please introduce yourself first.)
Sunday after a Thai lunch, even though I was having a good time that weekend, I was ready to go home, having been away from the bed that is better than any bed that is not my bed (© Closet Buffyholic) for nearly two weeks. The drive was mercifully short; deserted highways on a hot, sunny summer Sunday afternoon, with the windows rolled down and Bruce Springsteen cranked on the stereo. Every drive should be like that. I also saw Lake Huron for the first time. I must go back; northern Michigan really is utterly gorgeous.
In the end, I arrived home quite tired, happy with what I had accomplished and yet, despite being reunited with my bed, feeling a bit desolate without my friends.
SJBWiAO July 18-20, 2003
That acronym stands for "Sweltering July Buffy Weekend in Akron, Ohio." SJBW has been an institution for a number of years, but this was the first one I was able to attend, less than a week after my return home from Toronto and literally hours before my departure for California. But oh my was it worth it!
First off I got to meet several more new people! And see old friends who had been MIA for a long time. We went to a lovely park for a picnic on Saturday. The park featured a man-made lake with a small sand beach and pool slides built into the lake. We had fun watching the kids play in the water, and shouting at Mrs. Beasley's friend's son to pull up his swimming trunks (that poor kid. Half a dozen people he's never met were watching him playing in the lake and yelling randomly at him, "Ian, pull your pants up!")
What truly stood out, though, is that during the picnic, two reporters from the Akron Beacon Journal showed up. Apparently Mrs. Beasley had invited the tv critic from the paper because he's a rabid Buffy fan. He was going to be away, but someone at the paper thought it would be a story.
We were all sitting in the pavilion chatting when this woman with a camera appears and asks if we're the Buffy people. When we said yes, she exclaimed, "I expected you to be easy to find but I walked around the park and you all looked so normal, I had to go ask!"
Apparently she missed the day in journalism school about not putting your subjects on the defensive immediately.
I immediately grabbed the camera and started taping, thereby freaking out the reporters (ha!) who were not expecting to have to be interviewed during their interviewing!
The resulting article, which included such flattering quotes as, "No one was Gothed-out in a vampire cape, there were no Buffy-related activities like 'pin the stake on the vampire's heart,' and besides a cardboard cutout and two Buffy-related T-shirts, there was nothing that set the Sweltering July Buffy Weekend apart from any other friendly get-together" served to strengthen my resolve and renew my purpose in making this documentary. The way fandom is treated by the media and the stereotyping of people who are so weird as to get together because of a television show makes me furious. Meanwhile it's perfectly okay to strip half naked and cover your upper body with paint and stand in a stadium every Sunday during the winter screaming your head off. What. Ever.
I must however concede that anyone who saw us all at the hotel that night, sitting around a table in the hospitality room, every person playing Solitaire with their own individual deck of cards, would probably have been right to deem us "a bit freaky."