I’m back, showered, and less lick able.
It was an interesting week. Have you ever spent 170 straight hours slathered in honey? It’s not as fun as you would think. By the third day, you really start to get sick of it. And the flies? God, the flies.
We spent the week in my home town of Traverse City, Michigan. We took the kids camping for three of the days. Camping Nitmos style (i.e. laptop, portable DVD players, near local restaurants and in-laws for the fam to avoid public park wart acquiring showers.) It was nice: Fires with hissing, barely burnable, rain soaked wood and the roar of jets from the nearby airport. Nobody experienced anything greater than a first degree burn. Camping sans skin grafts? A win!
I bemoaned my pathetic second mile from the Ele’s Race 5k for the first several days (race report updated with official numbers for posterity). Well, as much as one can with a mouth covered in gooey, sliding honey. My complaints would burst forth into a honey wrapped complaint bubble that would float two campsites down before popping and emptying into the ear holes of a pleasant looking family from Chicago that, before long, also began to wonder loudly about what the hell happened in mile two not really knowing why.
I didn’t seethe for long because the Traverse City Film Festival Costume 5k was the coming Saturday. Redemption would be at hand!
The film festival is in its 5th year now and starting to acquire some national name recognition. It’s attracting B and C level stars. Before long, it might even acquire a Friend or a Family Matter. Maybe Jon or Kate and plus or minus 3/8’s will make an appearance in the future? Mrs. Nitmos and I have attended 4 of the 5 years now and it is amusing just to watch the event unfold. It was started and is run by liberal Michael Moore. The vast majority of the filmmaker/stars present are liberals. But Traverse City is a staunchly conservative Midwestern town. The local business leaders and politicians – who would love to string Moore up from the nearest tree – all plug their noses, smile, and put their hands out for all the money he’s bringing into town for the week. Then bitch about the No Good Liberal for the next 51 weeks while they toss logs made of rolled up film festival money onto their fires during those cool fall days.
Mrs. Nitmos and I attended three films. We might have been the only two people not in either (1) a beard or (2) thick rimmed rectangular glasses.* We could only get tickets for the midnight showing each time which presented a problem. Normally in my daily routine, I’m drunk by 7 PM, passed out by 8 PM, and back awake but impersonating a police officer on the streets by 10 PM, and incarcerated to “sleep it off” Otis style by 11 PM. I’d have to hold off drinking until 10 or 11 in order to make the films.
First up was a sneak preview of the first two episodes from the new season of one of my favorite shows, Curb Your Enthusiasm, hosted by co-star and B leveler Jeff Garlin. Afterwards, Garlin hung around to answer questions from the audience and, in turn, be harassed by a star struck, stalker woman waving a stick of cheese at him (he made a bad film called Someone To Eat Cheese With) and holding a copy of Daddy Day Care for him to sign. What a freak.**
Then, we hit the midnight showings for future classic films Asshole (a short film, non-puckered) and Registered Sex Offender. And then cool, black rimmed rectangular spectacle wearing director appeared on stage to let us know he barely had enough time to discuss the film because he’s too busy creating another masterpiece in complete anonymity. RSO was good though. But no masterpiece. Not enough honey.
And then it was time for redemption: the very first ever TCFF Costume 5k! They want to make it a Breakers style crazy costume run focusing on fun and costumes rather than speed. Which, to me, spells: A Chance For A Win! Information was extremely sparse on the event. It was only a few days before hand that I found out it would start at 8 PM. I even inquired at the film festival box office for further details but could get nothing more than a hand written sticky note telling me where it started, that the person running it “wasn’t very good”, and that they didn’t expect very many people oh and by the way if you want to join please write down your credit card information and we’ll have it floating around the office here for future generations to see and read and use. "No way", said the guy with a public blog in which he reveals too much about himself.
So, I didn’t join.
But I did watch. Oh, yes, I watched. I watched as the leader and winner – on a course I’m pretty sure was less than 3 miles – came through in about 17:20. And then I watched and watched and twiddled my thumbs and started kicking myself in the ass as the second place guy came through in just a shade under 20 minutes?!? Fuck. Why didn’t I sign up? As it turns out, they had bibs, timing chips, a nice finish crowd, water, Oscar style awards for every finisher, basically, everything you want in a race. And a slow field to boot. Fuck. Turned out, there were about 100 runners and many wearing pretty creative costumes (my favorite: the group of 8 dressed as William Wallace and company from Braveheart and shouting FREEEEDOMMM! through the streets.)
Next year, my friends, next year. I will be there. The theme for next year’s vacation has already been determined. It’ll be Strawberry Jam week. Together, with Mrs. Nitmos’ consent, we’ll run in that costume 5k. She doesn’t know it yet – until she reads this – but she’ll be covered in peanut butter. We’ll be peanut butter and jelly.
Happy trails. I’ll catch up with you all soon.
* Though I was the only person slathered in honey and sticking to the theatre chairs.
** Who am I kidding? It was me.