So last weekend the filming of American Mary drew to a close. It was bittersweet, since everyone has gotten tight on set and to know one another rather well. It was also a relief because now that filming was in the can, it’s on it’s way to be edited and we can get onto sharing it with the rest of the world. It also meant I could drink heavily again without fear of ruining the make up I had to wear. Drink, I did. I think it’s fair to say that I wasn’t the only one hitting the bottle hard that night, as a sense of release was in the air. It wasn’t until the sun started to creep up that it was an indicator that it was time to head home. That, and we had run out of booze.
I was out cold til well into the afternoon, about two o’clock or so. When I woke I was starving and opted to sit in Cafe Barney rather than purchasing and assembling provisions myself. That, and I don’t have a coffee maker and coffee was key at this point. So I sat heavily in one of the tables, my order taken awaiting my coffee and my gin Caesar when I became eerily aware there was no background music and people had quieted down. Being a horror nerd I assumed either aliens or zombies, but it was worse. Christmas carolers.
I’m not a bad a sport. I will stop and nod to people busking on the street. But it’s when on a Sunday afternoon, I’m hungover as all get-out and in a fragile state of mind, I cannot abide people entering the establishment I’m trying to get my shit together in, and forcing Christmas cheer down my throat. It’s like being seasonally raped in the ears. If you think I’m being a trifle over-dramatic, then I offer you a chance to get that drunk, then wake up and have me squawk ‘Santa Claus Is Coming To Town’ at you while your trying to eat poached eggs. It puts a little perspective on things. I may have stood up and indicated to the staff that I needed my cocktail and I needed it NOW. In the middle of the second verse, and somewhat loudly. I regret nothing. I did get my food, cocktail, and cheque swiftly and departed ASAP. Note to restaurants: If you don’t let people solicit don’t let them pull that festive crap either, okay? I doubt highly West or Blue Water would put up with that guff. Just saying.
So now I turn my attention to what if it HAD been zombies (because you knew that’s where I was ultimately going with this). Over the summer I attended one outdoor music festival (Shambhala) that required camping. I don’t camp. I was, however, camping with regular outdoor partiers, many of them Burning Man peeps who regularly pack up, build a city in the middle of the desert in Nevada, and throw down for several days the way you or I do on a one night club event. These people are well equipped. It was also Crystal Precious’ first year hitting Burning Man and she told me there are people who rig up two chainsaws in order to operate blenders to make margaritas. I was told other people cook bacon then freeze, thus allowing you to enjoy bacon in the desert. So aside from my making fun of their love of furry legwarmers and feather earrings (yes you, East Van gypsy hipsters… I see you) these folks were onto something.
So I want to say this: when the zombie Apocalypse comes (and I honestly only see it lasting three months, tops) I’m hooking up with the Burners. These are people who, not only seek out one of the harshest climates for human possible, they thrive and party there. They adapt any an all items to serve dual purposes, and can reformat in order to create amazing spectacles and realities. They also can make chainsaw blender drinks. They can insulate themselves from the rest of the world and build and break down mobile cities. They can be as nomadic or static and evolve to suit their situation. They are well versed in bartering and trade system that don’t require currency. All these are pretty good indicators that if shit goes down, they’ll have the means to survive, and hook up a sick bass-heavy system to weather the storm til it passes.
It’s with this in mind that I can stomach seeing the faux festive cheer around me now. Likely even summon a smile when I see people in the street or girls dressed in sexy Santa suits. Because I know if the zombie Apocalypse happens this time of year, a) I’ll be going to ground with the outdoor music planners, booking acts for summer stages, and b) tossing unwanted carollers to the zombies like chunks of salmon to hungry orcas.
In the meantime, I bring you the means of how I plan to celebrate next year in Austria…