the final days of Banff

I found out something interesting slogging through my final day on Saturday as a volunteer at the Banff film fest. A woman I've been working with, Betty (see previous post), is the originator of the film fest. She and her husband used to invite people to their house to watch movies. Eventually this event was co-opted by the Banff Centre, the movies became more pornographic (from an athletic perspective), and now Betty gets to rip tickets for events.

I worked the door of Saturday's film fest with one David Cseke. I'll give you a loonie if you can pronounce his last name correctly. Over the course of my time knowing Dave, he made fun of me for writing "theater" instead of "theatre", predicted I would get eaten by an elk (do they even eat people?) during one of my evening forays along the cliff heading up to the Banff Centre, called me a geek for my mad math skills (jealous, I know), and told me that the reason the front desk refused (before I offered money) to print my boarding pass for my flight home is that in 2001 an attendant got a paper cut and now it's illegal for them to print out anything for customers. Okay, that last thing, I think he made up. He also said he felt like my "Banff book bitch", due to a mis-understanding caused by translation from Canadian to civilized English.

David, where's my fucking book?

Favorite part of the film fest: evening walks up to the lake, which had nothing to do with the film fest - exactly
Worst part of the film fest: getting stalked by an old dude who looked like a wolf 3 months away from getting shot to put him out of his misery - luckily R. shooed him off though it was a bit embarrassing later when I showed up at the airport only to find myself in line right behind him