2-32-14: The History of a Momentous Decision

I spent my Month Two Telluride Anniversary in a blur of light and darkness as the 32nd Telluride Film Festival came & went, as it does every Labor Day weekend. But this past weekend was not just my 2nd month celebration--it was also my 14th anniversary of setting foot here.

Once upon a time I was quite young & in college when a friend came up to me at a party and said, "Cindy, go to the Telluride Film Festival with me!" "The what?" was my response. Followed by: "I don't have the time or money to go to some podunk [I actually used that word] town in Colorado with you." Chris then explained to me about the student program, where all you had to do was write an essay & get a professor to sign off on it to get a pass. I was still skeptical, but at some point the mind reasoned, "What have I got to lose?"

I wrote my essay (on The Outsiders), I sent in my application, & I was accepted into the 18th Telluride Film Festival Student Symposium! (It's a mouthful, I know.) In the process of making my travel & housing (read "camping") arrangements, I learned that my friend never got around to sending in his app. So not only was I going somewhere I never had any intention of going, but I was going alone.

On August 29, 1991, I set foot on Colorado ground for the first time in my life. I had just turned 21. I flew into Durango, which was the smallest airport I had ever seen. In seeking the baggage claim area, I walked right out the other side of the building. I went back in & finally saw that it was just a belt coming out of the wall. There might as well have been powered by hamsters on treadmills. And I waited there for 2 hours. I was starting to get uneasy, wondering if my shuttle to Telluride would ever show up.

When the film fest shuttle finally did arrive, my name wasn't on the passenger list. Luckily, everyone was willing to squish & make room for me and my ragtag camping gear. (I think they could sense that I was about to have a tearful breakdown.) And it was starting to rain. Rain is an omen.

Our minivan driver was so excited to see her old staff friends that as we were leaving the airport she took a curve too fast and came horrifyingly close to plowing into a street sign. My unease gave way to fear.

Then about 10 minutes outside of Durango (keep in mind it's a 2.5 hour trip) the driver--still excited about her friends--failed to notice a HUGE rock in the road and blew a tire running over it. We were in the middle of nowhere, populated only by a creepy "Psycho"-esque motel called Chips, and that's where we remained for the next 2 hours while someone went into town for a new tire. Chip's had the best Cream of Broccoli EVER. But I was beginning to feel my trip was ill-fated.


By the time I finally got to Telluride that night it was pitch black and I was in no mood to set up camp. I stayed at the Oak Street Inn, with no sense of what I'd walked into.

I didn't know it at the time, but the next morning's sunrise changed my life. I spent the weekend watching films, hiking, eating at the Floradora, and making new friends. As I was being driven back to the airport, I distinctly remember gazing out the window & saying to myself, "I'll be back. I don't know how or when, but it's got to happen." My heart already missed Telluride.

I have now spent 15 consecutive Labor Days here, and then some. I still love seeing my friends pile into town by the busload. And I'm still very sad when they all have to go back home after an impossibly long but too short weekend. But at least this year I won't have to be sad that I'm leaving, too.