September 20th, 1999
And I do mean partners. I just spent the last week out in the town of rain and coffeehouses and I'm still wearing my official Seattle hat to prove it. Once again someone felt the need to fly me somewhere (and you know how I hate to disappoint people.) So I hopped on board one of those cramped torture planes and 5 hours later I was in the state of Washington. Heap big difference between here and there. Oh, who was the sucker . . . er nice sponsor? Well it was none other than the 17th annual Bigfoot Convention. I was a guest of honor.
"So Derek," I hear you asking me, "What does one do at a bigfoot convention?"
Good question. As near as I can figure the most basic rule at a bigfoot convention is that you have to be able to drink from sun up to sun down. I mean you got to get up at 7 am and start by slugging down a coupla beers with breakfast. Then when you and the boys have each consumed a six pack in Seattle's finest motel dining room you move to the convention hall, put on your name badge and mosey over to the portable bar they have set up. Since it's after 8 am by this time it's perfectly OK to start drinking whiskey. Then when everybody has a drink in their left hand and a cigarette in their right (I'll admit that I might have had one or two of those nasty nicotine things while I was there) you sit down and listen to the first speaker of the day. Since the speaker has been drinking just as much as you the speeches do tend to wander through hill and dale. But thats OK since it's a bigfoot convention and those hairy guys are known to wander around themselves.
Being a guest of honor I was obliged to give a speech. I was nervous till I saw how things are done up here in the land that time forgot. So out of respect for the crowd I was with, I just got hammered before I went on stage. Can't remember a damned thing I said. It must have been bigfoot related however since everyone was applauding me when I got up off the floor.
In my more sober moments I did make some good contacts with several self professed bigfoot freaks. Two of them shared some shots they had taken at a recent plastering. (they were plastering feet, not themselves at this particular time) They are newbies to the bigfoot scene and were given the cold shoulder by several of the long time bigfoot hunters but I thought they were hilarious. Of course I think anyone who would live in Idaho is hilarious.
So read all the facts in the 'pedia. I'm going to go back to bed and try and sleep off the perpetual headache that has been my constant companion since I left Seattle.
Derek "salt of the earth" Barnes