T Plus 1

Last nights bar hopping was a successful endeavor, no one became inebriated but Fareed was spanked in public, by the lead player in a group of nomadic stagette practitioners. 

A drink and a floor show.

As Sunday rolls around, our group rises early in preparation for the first day of the Banff festival.  Too early for some, including this writer, who discovered why the jubilation of getting a suite was to be short lived.  The air conditioner, to combat the warm weather, consists of a fan and a window that won't open.  There's a dip in my bed, other than myself, that makes tossing and turning from the anxiety of the morning nearly impossible.  Still, hats off to Keith, it's still better than the place we stayed last year.

Showered, shaved, primped and on our way t the CBC gala; an event that makes you truly believe the B.C. film industry is made up of only twelve people.  I was introduced to several people tonight that knew of me from other people, or people I know, I would introduce to others that others already knew through others, and even the people that no one knew found out they actually knew them.  In the case of myself and Yves out of Vancouver, I took the opportunity to make contact with Jim Compton, a top player in the industry;  his word weights a lot, as a single "I guess so: will cause a chain reaction resulting in the production of a television project;  did I mention he's a cousin of my dad.   We had a nice conversation before being interrupted by another native filmmaker; an attractive native filmmaker so who am I to argue.  And yes, she was a girl.  Progress was made in other areas of schmoozing, Keith did some research on an HD girl, Fareed met a few
waitresses;  but in the end it became an expensive wine and hors'd oeuvres meet and greet, put together to plan the real meet and greet later on...at the Irish pub.

The amount of people at the pub wouldn't rival those at the CBC gala, but it's my belief that these must have been the fun bunch.  I learned through several sources this is not the time to pitch; not only  would your carefully constructed words be lost over the din of the people; but you'll kill the buzz of an executive just looking for fun, which will hurt you when the time comes around for the real pitch.  Executives, even wasted ones, have long memories.

This evening, I sit here writing this out as my companion's converse on what tomorrow will bring; tomorrow, which starts in six hours, we have two appointments.

Kim Catrell sightings -- Zero.

Andrew.