It
all grew out of my relationship with Robert Eads, a very special human
being who is no longer 
with us, at least in the physical sense. “Daddy” Robert was
the kind 
of
person you never forget. He was upbeat, friendly, uncommonly
wise, and completely comfortable in his own skin. He was also the consummate
southern gentleman; with impeccable old-fashioned manners, and a respectful,
deferential regard for women. He was positively gallant. All sorts of
people leaned on Robert; he seemed strong enough for all of us. I found
him more remarkable for these traits than the fact that he was transsexual.
(click
thumbnails for enhanced view)
The tragic
circumstances surrounding his cancer attracted the attention of filmmaker
Kate 
Davis.
She and Elizabeth (Adams, her associate) earned our trust early on, and
filmed so much over the course of several months that we often forgot
about the camera. Which explains those scenes where I should be wearing
a bag over my head. Well over a year had gone by after Robert’s passing,
and I’d pretty much forgotten about the film, when I got a call from
Kate informing me that Southern 
Comfort was going to Sundance 2001, and I was invited to come. The significance
of this was entirely lost on me. My initial reaction was like “why
on earth would I go to a film festival? I dunno Kate, I’ve got to
work”. When my friends started hooting with excitement, it finally
dawned on me that I really ought to give it a whirl.
My Sundance
experience was completely surreal. This is one of the film world’s
major events, and practically everyone there is “in the business”
in some capacity or other. And here am I, a total stranger to all that,
suddenly swimming in a sea of superlative schmooze, deal-making, and yes,
even art. All in the midst of countless parties, dinners, brunches, and
official
whatnot. They even had me doing interviews. But easily, the very strangest
thing was that I became a sighting. I’d spent the first few days
trying to get my celebrity-spotting radar functioning, and suddenly 
people were recognizing me, calling out to me on the street, congratulating
me in the grocery store. I was even asked for my autograph! Meanwhile,
the Southern Comfort screenings were doing amazingly well, always sold
out and the audience response was extremely positive and supportive. One
of the best times was the night we met the people with Hedwig and the
Angry Inch. I guess because we had that trans thing in common, they sent
someone to find me and invite us to their party. It was great - good music,
big crowd, everyone having a fine time.. and then Hedwig (John Cameron
Mitchell) and the band treated us to a live set. They totally rocked,
people
went nuts. I was utterly astonished when they dedicated a song to me.
Later, we went up to 
their
house and hung out. They are a warm and brilliant bunch, I’m so happy
we made their acquaintance. But the absolute ultimate, of course, was
the awards ceremony. It was totally the real deal; the room was all abuzz
with anticipation, lots of press and paparazzi. When they announced Southern
Comfort for best documentary, it was just too much for words, so I shall
leave it at that.
One final
tale of bumbling abroad: The subways of Berlin have no turnstiles. There
is a strange 
vending
machine which dispenses tickets, but is nearly impossible to understand
without rudimentary German. None of the Americans in our crowd could figure
out how to buy tickets. I tried stuffing deutchmarks in the machine only
to have it spit them back out at me. We decided that it must be some sort
of honor system and we’d pay once we figured it out. Meanwhile, we
had places to go. A couple days later, a few of us were 
riding
the subway and the security guys entered our car, checking tickets. We
tried to explain how we couldn’t figure out the machine, and he scoffed
at the notion of a German designed device being anything less than perfect.
“It’s eeesy”, he insisted. They escorted us off at the
next station, elaborating on the huge fines we 
were
facing. To prove to us that the machines were absolutely fool-proof he
had his partner show us how it works. Luckily, the poor man couldn’t
manage to get a ticket out of it either, and so we were spared the humiliation
of being thrown into German deadbeat prison. All of us are now fully rehabilitated
and know how to operate Berlin subway machines. It’s Easy.
especially excited because this was to be my first trip to Europe. My only real concern was about my inability to speak anything but English; I never anticipated any problems with a simple plane change in Paris. But as I looked for my gate, I found myself becoming confused and increasingly anxious. I followed the arrow pointing toward my gate, only to find another arrow pointing back where
I’d just come from. After a few attempts at sorting it out for myself, I tried asking directions, but could only find people with English as poor as my French. Time was now becoming an issue. After waiting in line, I finally got to an airline agent who spoke English. It turns out that this airport is two separate buildings with a tunnel connecting them. Freshly enlightened with this handy tidbit of information, I walked off quickly, certain now that I’d make my plane. When I got to where the tunnel was supposed to be, it wasn’t. This development was doing nothing whatsoever for my calm, cool
traveler demeanor. After a few more passes, I finally stumbled onto the secret stairway down to the secret tunnel and secretly scurried over to the other building where all the lines were long. Determined to waste no more time, I located the nearest Air France agent and asked her where I could find my gate. She looked at my ticket and said, “oh it’s been changed, now it’s gate whatever, over there”. When I finally got to the end of that line, they told me “your plane
was at the original gate on your ticket, it left 5 minutes ago (foolish American bumpkin)”. Haha, oh well, not the end of the world. I’ll just call the people in Berlin and let them know I’ll be on the next plane. This was before my first encounter with a French phone. I will spare you the awful details of that exercise in futility. Suffice to say, the people who were to collect me at the airport
were convinced that Air France had misplaced and was mistreating Frau Cola and insisted they surrender me immediately or face dire consequences. When I did arrive in Berlin, there was, of course, no one there to meet me. Fortunately, most people in Germany seem to speak English and I managed to hire a cab without a great deal of drama. Berlin was utterly fabulous and I enjoyed myself immensely.
couple times and have had an incredibly good time. The film’s success has brought me this rare opportunity to meet all sorts of people, and I’m happy to report that the vast majority have been nothing but kind, open minded and accepting – altogether very cool. I know Robert’s around somewhere, chuckling
wryly over all this hoohah, and happy that people are treating me so well. I’m very happy that because of this film, he lives on in a way, and a lot of people will get a sense of what a rare and precious soul is his. I’m hopeful that people will stop discriminating against folks for being different, and allow us all to be exactly who we are. Electronic Scrapbook Home
