I expected just a simple movie at the Grant Park Film Festival, but I got more than I bargained for.

The first week the festival was running would have been relatively normal were it not for the picture that appears above. People apparently don't like it when you obstruct their view to get glamour shots. But the whole affair was in the pursuit of journalism, so we pressed on.

The second week was even stranger. Let's start with the fact that I was watching Hitchcock's The Birds and there were some late-night gulls swooping around for the first few minutes of the movie– this is an outdoor event, remember – but to truly get that roughing-it-in-the-middle-of-the-city feel, I had to be treated to some rain, of course.

I was still walking towards the park after getting off the train when I get hit with the first drops. The sky didn't look promising, but Metromix promised the movies would continue “as long as lightning, strong winds or other severe conditions are not present.” Wet and near-miserable it was, but hazardous it wasn't. A few steps later, I get a call from the friends I was meeting:

They: “Where are you?”
Me ( annoyed because, well, I'm standing in the rain ): “Standing in the rain.”
They: “Are you coming?” ( unintelligible noise ) “We've made a tent.”
Me: “Out of what? Your backpack?”
They: “No, the blanket.”

Necessary background: The blanket was pretty standard for picnic affairs – in fact, it served just that purpose on the previous week's rain-less evening in Grant Park – meaning it's not made of waterproof anything, but from scratchy wool. In a heavy rain, it would be more hassle than help as a covering. This was not a Good Idea.

Me: “That blanket belongs to my roommate, and it's definitely not waterproof.”
They: “What?” ( unintelligible noise ) “Are you coming?”
Me: ( sigh ) “I'm on my way.”

I made it to the open area and, unlike the previous week, there were large open spaces to stretch out. Of course, you didn't want to because of the mud, but what counts is that the opportunity was there. My friends had ditched the tent idea and had spread the blanket on the ground since the downpour had stopped for a moment. Maybe this would work after all.

The question of the night was a simple one: How was it - “it” referring to both the movie and the weather – going to end? The quick answers: The movie ended well, if that's what you call a catatonic woman carried to a car after the four main characters survived an onslaught of avian rage. And the weather cooperated as well – the rest of the night, we remaining movie watchers were treated to a lightning fireworks show over the lake.

So that question was answered: Things would turn out fine, but I was pretty much soaked to the bone. But there's nothing like good company. Even in the rain. While getting freaked out by the sounds of seagulls. And while using a blanket that doesn't belong to you as a tent.

You're not a real trooper until the rain hits.

Enjoy the issue.