Usually Alaska takes me to the north terminal, so I don't see the shops in the airport, however this time we ended up at the C concourse. Upon arrival at Sea-Tac I spotted the new Sub Pop store. Any Seattle native growing up in the 90's knows Sub Pop. Formed by John Poneman and Bruce Pavitt, this was the record label that launched Nirvana, Mudhoney, and the general Seattle sound back in the day. I even worked at Sub Pop's Ultra-Lame Fest back in the late 90's loading in for Mudhoney, although I didn't know who they were at the time. Sub Pop still has a number of great artists on their roster, but are now 49% owned by Warner Music - sell outs! I had just enough time to stop and pick up a t-shirt. Ever a subversive label, the store gave me a sticker that proudly states, "spanning the globe for profit." Their musician rejection letters are infamously known for starting off, "Dear Loser." It's a Seattle disestablishmentarianist thing, so you may not understand.
My Aunt was playing chauffer and host for the day, so we decided to go see two of the press screenings for the Seattle International Film Festival, which starts on the 15th. They rejected my film this year, so it was good to stick it to them by getting into the press screenings without paying for a full series pass like everyone else had to. Buh-ha-ha, buh-ha-ha. I can recommend the film "Lucky Them," but I was hesitant about "Obvious Child." We parked over at the Seattle Center, which meant an obligatory 20 second stop to take tourist photo of the Space Needle. Got that out of my system. I feel better now.
However, before seeing the films my Aunt recommended that we stock at the Chihuly art gallery to take a walking tour. Dale Chihuly is a native of Tacoma and now lives in Seattle. He's world famous for his elaborate glass sculptures. The first thing you see when you walk into the gallery is a "Wet Umbrella Bag." That clearly confirmed that I was in Seattle, despite the perfect spring day. One thing you'll notice in the last picture of the series below is that a robin took up residence in the glass sculpture in the garden. If you enlarge the picture by clicking on it you'll see the robin dead center in her nest guarding her eggs.
I know this entry is totally pathetic and probably misleading because of the blog title, but I was actually there to see my film in the company of the northwest fitness community, film fans, friends, and family. After an excellent dinner at Costa's on University Avenue we headed down to the Lucid Lounge for the Seattle True Independent Film Festival screening. The night before I had little sleep because I worried that the projectionist would mess up, as happened at the LA Sports Film Festival where they blamed a faulty switcher box for the video intermittently going out. Sure enough, they roll my Blu-ray first and there's no sound! Augh! The production volunteers didn't think to test the sound! Also the screen isn't fully extended so the bottom part of the picture is cut off. They didn't think to test that either. At least the projectionist eventually fixed the sound and restarted the film.
Still, I was grateful that my friends and family came out to support my little film. Quite a few of them made cameo appearances during various parts of the film. It was hard not to feel good that I finally shared my film with the community I wanted to see it. Things happen. You just have to let them go and appreciate the bigger picture sometimes.
In the picture below you see David Patterson, the subject of the film, in the white shirt. Brad and Elaine Craig, bodybuilding show promoters, are sitting in the second row. My Aunt is off to the left in a cyan shirt. My sister is in the back corner. Even Nacole Patterson, another person in the film, is in the back row. By show time the place was packed and we were running out of chairs.
Thursday morning was another 4am wake up for a 7am flight home. At the last minute I decided to switch seats to a less crowded aisle on the flight, but unfortunately ended up to a pregnant Mexican woman with a case of ADHD. Every ten minutes she had to get up to go talk to her family, hand something across me, murmur something in Spanish to her kids in another aisle, or who knows what. Her obstetrician must drink a six-pack of Red Bull to keep up. I desperately needed sleep Thursday night, but I also needed to do laundry, so there were at least two cat naps in between dryer buzzes. Tonight seems like a good night to turn in early as well.