I came to Los Angeles to attend the Shriekfest Horror and Sci Fi Film Festival. My short sci fi script, Greenspoke, is a semi-finalist in the short screenplay competition. Even though I didn’t make it to the finals, I thought this would be a good opportunity to meet some other filmmakers and possible agents who can help me get my two feature length scripts produced. Last night was the opening night party. Those of you who know me know I am not exactly a party animal – two drinks and I’m asleep. I never got the chance to test that reaction last night.
My good friend and collaborator Paul Yoo agreed to be my wing man, but he had to work late. I misread the start time of the party – for some reason I thought it kicked off at 9:30 but it actually started at 7. Once I realized that, I checked the bus schedule and found that I could pretty easily zip down there by bus. Paul could meet me there, I’d have a chance to meet festival director Denise Gossett and still have plenty of time to catch up with Paul as we stepped over drunken filmmakers.
The bus is supposed to run every 15-20 minutes at that time of night. I was out there for quite a while, with a couple of dozen other people. There was an actor reviewing a script, a crack head screaming at someone for looking at him, a drunk middle aged woman who stepped out into Santa Monica Blvd traffic (she made it across) but mostly blue collar people who looked like they had just gotten off work. We all piled into the already full bus. I made my way to the back only to realize that I couldn’t see the street signs and the driver wasn’t calling the streets off, so I worked my way back to the front so I could see. Got off at Fairfax as the directions stated, walked around looking for the address or the name of the club. Walked alot. Saw a place it might have been but the address was wrong. I asked a guy at the French Quarter if he had heard of the club. Nope. This was one of those moments when getting an iPhone actually seemed to make sense. Looked for a phone book. No luck. Figured I’d head back to the hotel and check my info, and Paul could meet me there after he finished work. Then we could head over together.
I had to walk a couple of blocks to get the bus going back from West Hollywood to my hotel. The stop was in front of the Studs theater and across from The Pleasure Chest. A car slowed down as the driver looked at me – was he puzzled that I was waiting for a bus? Looking for a good time? Did I look like his long lost prison cellmate? Don’t know. Don’t care – thankfully he kept driving. After what seemed like an eternity, the bus finally arrived, again packed to the gills. At each stop, more people crammed into the bus. A gentleman stood beside me and started to make small talk, then proceeded to tell me what he had just seen at the sex club he was at and started asking me what I liked to do. I laughed at first, which was unfortunate because it seemed to encourage him. Finally I told him he was making me uncomfortable, which got to the gay, bi or straight question. I told him I was straight even though I am in a 19 year relationship with a man. Seemed easier, except then he started on how crazy some of the women are in LA, and well, you get the idea. Paul saved me for a few moments with a phone call – we arranged to meet at my hotel lobby and try to find this club. My bus buddy got off the bus shortly thereafter, making another pitch in my ear on his way out.
Paul’s smarty pants phone couldn’t find the club either. I checked the address on the festival site – I did have the numbers slightly off but I would have walked right past it. We decided to go to the hotel bar, which we didn’t know was hosting a USC stand-up comedian event. We sat in the back and talked films and acting and work while the comedians worked their magic on their alum buddies. When the bar closed we went up to the lobby and talked more. It was a good day that didn’t go as planned.