Cannes day 5: Dammit!

Cannes Day Six





I’m shirtless in a dark room with two young French women. One is dressed like a hip-hop dancer, with baggy pants and a hat turned to the side. They stand behind me, giggling in rapid French while I stand there awkwardly. One comes forward and I setup to the side. She looks on my shirt, which is resting on a massive ironing board and looks on the tag.

“Ah, ze polyester.” She says.

She adjusts a knob and smiles. They leave the room and I start ironing my shirt.



As it relates to Cannes, after only four days I’m starting to feel extremely winded. At first I was thinking this experience wouldn’t be that draining, or that intense. But there is so much walking, talking and interacting, it takes the life out of you. I learned this in a very funny way early this morning. Let’s just say eating lots of bread and drinking no water makes for some interesting bathroom antics.



Today (or yesterday) was pretty disappointing. I finally networked well enough to get an invite to a party on the beach. It was in front of the Martinez, pretty much the second most exclusive spot on the strip called the Croisette. My energy was almost gone at this point: I had been to three happy hours and had a little too much wine. Not the amount that gets you drunk, but the amount that gets you a little sleepy. Add to that the fact that I’d been walking around all day talking to numerous people and my energy was low.



I also learned that eating crepes all day are bad, bad business. Since I’ve arrived in France, I don’t believe I’ve had any meat. I’ve only been eating bread, cheese, and crepes, with a touch of the occasional glass of water. So I’m guessing my insides are yearning for some real nutrition. “Give us meat!” my stomach is probably screening.



Who knows. I’m beginning to get used to the area now. I’m very familiar with the Rue d’ Antibes, the Croisette as well. I’ve started memorizing routes, stopping at familiar food stands. The familiarity with the area that I have has bred a certain desire within me over the last few days. Missing that party burned my stomach. The opportunities for networking in a large party are almost endless. In fact, the main virtue of going to parties like those are to meet people who will get you into other parties to meet other people. I’m not mad that I didn’t get to dance near the beach in France, I’m mad that I didn’t get to meet the person I was probably supposed to meet. The nature of this industry is so fleeting it keeps you tense. Sure Cannes is a two week madhouse of pitching and partying, but each day adds up to the next. In only 8 days I’ve met at least two hundred persons, and I have a stack of business cards in my bag. I have to use tricks to remember everyone’s names, and make sure to follow up.

But I can’t be mad for long.



The internet at my hotel has been dead for two days, which is making my situation eve more tricky. I have no more time for regrets, no more time to pause and think about missing a party. I just have to figure out a way to keep in touch. The reason I missed my party was the onset of serious fatigue from the hustle and bustle. I fell asleep wth my phone on my lap, and when I woke up, it fell and smashed dramatically into a thousand pieces.

Well its in two pieces, but I have no phone! This wasn’t bad (this happened a day ago) because each day I meet at least twenty people who say “Give me a call later, let’s hang out.” I’m on a quest now to find stable internet, to keep blogging and still network and maybe catch a movie.



Anon.