Park City 1
We got in to town, checked into our condo, and headed to the
box office to get acclimated. I got to
see the “Chase Sapphire Lounge”, my favorite hang out at Sundance, where, if
you are a MEMBER, you not only get a sweet water bottle, but you also get COFFEE!!! Free local food like duck tacos! Wine tastings with chocolate from 3-5! A place to charge your device! It’s right in the middle of Main Street, and
it’s AWESOME.
We got screening tickets via a
waitlist system and it works out for us almost every time. There are a number of
way you get tickets to Sundance screenings—you can buy a pass, that guarantees
admission to every screening, or buy tickets that guarantee entrance to certain
“films”, or you can hope that some bigwigs with passes don’t show up, and you
get their seat for $20. That’s how we do
it---you log in to the very easy e-waitlist system, and throw your name on the
list 2 hours prior to screening. You are then randomly generated a waitlist
number (or numbers if you linked to a friend).
Then, you arrive at the venue,
wait in line, and hopefully get in.
Why do I tell you this?
Well, if my blog really takes off, maybe someone will come here via the
keyword search of “Sundance without tickets” and I’ll make some money or
something. Oh, and maybe I want to help
my fellow human. CHASE SAPPHIRE CHASE
SAPPHIRE
We did get in to a BUNCH of movies, we went to the Chase
Sapphire lounge, and we had a very nice meal at Bodega, which is a tapas
place. We also tried to go somewhere for
just a glass of wine and were NOT at all HUNGRY but that place doesn’t exist.
In Park City, on the main drag, it’s either restaurants, where you have to order
food with booze, because of the mormons, or sports bars that are turned into CLUBS during Sundance.
That first day, we also went to the Fresh Market grocery
store--and picked up some eat-at-home food.
Last year, I had insisted on getting a rotisserie chicken, and like
every time I suggest that food item, everyone scoffs. But, this lady didn’t grow up in a large
family who travels and not pay attention.
Every winter, ye old Eldridge family would go skiing to the
greatest ski resorts within driving distance of Elyria, Ohio. Holiday valley! Peek and Peak! Before we’d go, my dad would gear us up in
our snow gear, grab the old-fashioned rake, and teach us how to use the J and T
Bar for the rope tows. He’d drag us
through the snow, and we’d hold on as he pulled, simulating the experience of
going up the hill in our backyard, getting us used to balancing on our skis,
holding on to our poles and the handle of the bar.
It was supposed to teach us so we didn’t waste time falling
on the rope tow.
We always drove in the old Shasta Motorhome, and my mom
would pack up some fried chicken.
We’d roll in to Holiday Valley in New York, and Bruce would
park the Shasta in the parking lot, and we’d eat our fried chicken. The next day, my mom would pack it up in a
cooler, and we’d leave the cooler in the general BYOFood/Canteen area of the
resort, and munch on that for lunch instead of the resort chalet pizza and salty
hotdogs.
It felt like a punishment at the time, sitting in our hand-me-down
ski pants, and used ski boots, watching the “rich” kids chow down on fountain
drinks and nachos.
But I now crave chicken in a group snow setting. And
who’s the poor kids that we got to go skiing?
We were fucking lucky to have that opportunity and that our dad had a
job.
Plus, old Bruce was always running a scam—he’d by a few lift
tickets and attach them to a safety pin or paper clip, and then attach that to
a zipper. We’d pass them back and forth
between us, but inevitably, the older three got to ski a lot more, while Kitty
and I would guard the chicken cooler, and pretend to enjoy ice skating on the
tiny rink.
But, we learned well from old Bruce—and to this day, I am a
terrible skier, but I’m really good on a rope tow.
