Sundance: Day 1

Newark Liberty International Airport : What a way to start a trip!

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Minneapolis St. Paul International Airport: A step down from even Newark!

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Our flight to Salt Lake City is delayed, so I stop in for a burger and chicken fingers at Dairy Queen. Probably not a wise choice.

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Seated next to a woman named Tiffany from Mississippi who’s meeting her mother and sister up in Park City for a ‘girl’s weekend’ at Sundance. Strange that the festival is equal parts industry conference and tourist destination.

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Salt Lake City International Airport: We’ve got mormons!

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Taxi up to Park City to join the rest of the Cyan delegation, at the house we’ve rented just off Main St. By the time we all head off to grab dinner at 10:45, nearly everything is closed, and we end up at Butchers’, a less than mediocre steakhouse that still charges $45 a filet.

“Let’s get some business done this week,” says my CFO, “so I can amortize these steaks.”

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Sundance: Day -1

I haven’t owned long underwear since I was about six, the point when I concluded that, while it was warm outdoors, back inside it was itchy and uncomfortably hot.

By now, I’m not sure if I feel any different. But I’m nonetheless headed off this afternoon to Paragon to pick up a pair. The temperature in Park City, Utah, is currently one degree, even without considering the windchill, and I’d ideally like to return to New York still able to have kids.

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Sundance: Day -9

Caucuses? Primaries? No, no. In the film business, January means something far more ‘important’: Sundance.

Yes, in just a week and change, the Cyan team and I (and Jess, who’s bravely jumping into the fray) head off to Park City, Utah. The countdown begins.

Ugh

“I refer to jet lag as ‘jet-psychosis’ – there’s an old saying that the spirit cannot move faster than a camel.”
-Spalding Gray

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Back

Whenever I head to California, to my parents’ home, I revert to a sixteen-year-old version of myself. We laugh and talk and do. It’s fun. It’s relaxing. It’s wonderful.

And, by now, it’s at least as much so to return to my real, New York life.

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Home for Thanksgiving II

Eighteen people for dinner, with a handful more joining for dessert. This is, for us, ‘very small’.

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Mainly, no change to the classics: my mother’s roast turkey, my father’s stuffing (the crowd favorite), pecan-crusted sweet potatoes.

This year, though, grilled vegetables are out in favor of garlic oven-roasted (my innovation), and the cranberry bread is now cranberry / corn / whole wheat (my mother’s, to her own regret).

Also new: along with last year’s tomato-basil bruschetta addition (a hit), some with olive and caper tapenade, others with manchego cheese and apricot jam or Point Reyes blue and fig preserve. (These the result of my and my father’s joint gastonomizing.)

And, finally: prosecco. Lots and lots of prosecco. I bought three bottles last year, and the normally non-drinking crowd sucked them dry in minutes. This could be dangerous.

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Home for Thanksgiving I

JFK to SFO, just more than six hours.

Almost killed my brother en route, as he kept sliding his elbow across the divider between out seats. Seems we’ve matured little since the back of our parent’s mini-van.

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In n’ Out: seriously, what’s the big deal? I don’t quite get people’s obsession with these burgers.

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[Ed. note: I’ll be adding to each of these postings throughout the day, for thre balance of the week.]

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On the Road

Off to the University of Rochester early tomorrow morning, where I’ll be giving a speech cleverly titled “Get Off Your Ass: Start a Company (and Avoid a ‘Real Job’)” as ‘inspirational keynote’ of the Extreme Entrepreneurship Tour‘s stop there.

That’s right. The Extreeeeeeeeme Entrepreneurship Tour. Like the X Games of motivational college speaking.

Don’t worry, mom, I’ll wear a helmet.

Weekender

After too long under fluorescent lights, Jess and I headed down this past weekend for a very brief jaunt to Miami Beach. The trip started off well enough, with a smooth flight down on Friday morning, and a free rental car upgrade to a new VW Beetle – which drove sort of like a turbo-charged go-cart – in the early afternoon.

We pulled up to our hotel, however, a ’boutique’ designed by Richard Meier, to discover an alarming array of rust stains running down the side of the building, and a valet parking attendant wearing, as a uniform, a pit-stained t-shirt and thoroughly yellowed khaki shorts. Further bad news inside, when we discovered that the hotel would shortly be razed to make way for a new, high-end Richard Meier condo, and that things had essentially been left to seed since the replacement had been planned, apparently a good five or ten years back.

As a result, the room, for instance, featured badly stained carpets, walls and ceilings, including what was clearly dried fecal matter crusted to the bathroom light-switch plate. The sheets looked dirty and threadbare, the closet doors hung at odd angles, and everything was pervaded with a slightly ‘pungent’ scent.

But, in an attempt to be good travelers, Jess and I looked past the room, and the crumpled used tissues littering the hall near our door. Instead, we figured, we’d head down to the pool and the beach, and simply spend as much of the weekend outside as possible.

Lo and behold, however, we discovered that the ‘private beach’ was actually a weed-ridden patch of shady sand, well removed from any observable body of water, scattered with rusted lawn chairs, and featuring an aging leathery woman sunning her low-hanging fake tits while chain-smoking Newports.

Still holding up our chins, we headed back to the pool, set out looking for towels, and were informed that we’d need to fork over an extra $25 ‘towel fee’ for the day. With that last straw, it was back to the room to retrieve our laptop, then down to the wifi-ed lobby to kayak.com an emergency transfer to anywhere less piece-of-shit.

As the weekend fell smack in the middle of spring break, we were unable to find anything for Friday evening – instead sneaking in to the nearby Sheraton’s pool, and wandering the adjacent Shops at Bal Harbour, before sleeping fitfully on top of sheets we tried to touch as little as possible. But, early Saturday morning, we hopped back in the (delightfully comparatively clean) Beetle, and headed down Collins Ave., to the National Hotel in South Beach, a beautiful old art deco property, with a long, slender waveless lap pool (designed for Esther Williams), and rooms regularly cleaned and poop-crust free.

The downside: apparently, the hotel was also the home for a weekend DJ convention, featuring showdowns by some of the best trance, deep house, and otherwise thumpy music spinners in the world. Which, while making for a remarkably MTV Spring Break scene and attracting long, long lines of pierced and tattooed visitors to the hotel, also left sunbathing a bit less relaxing than it might otherwise have been.

Still, I didn’t mind. We were joined for part of the weekend by Jess’ wonderful younger sister, and generally enjoyed the chance to sunburn our way out of the winter doldrums, horse around in the pool, sip pina coladas, and feel condescendingly glad we didn’t look like most of the people wandering up and down Miami Beach.

Summer, bring it.

Recap

How was the trip? Well, long.

But also, fortunately, good. Despite the stress of hosting twenty-something people for Thanksgiving, of introducing Jess to my parents and then having them all spend nearly a week together, of generally trying to align all the disparate spheres of my life, everything went about as smoothly as I could have probably hoped.

Still, as I often feel after time away, I think I need a second vacation just to recover from the first.

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