Awake to the sound of bells . . . buzzers . . . horrible ringing in my ears
. . . first thought - it must be Montezuma's revenge (why did I subject my
liver, so well tuned to single malt whisy, to Tequila?) - but then I
astutely determined that it was the cursed telephone, blaring only inches
from where my head had been deposited an hour earlier. Grasping desperately
for the receiver, and trying to focus on the ThinkPad clock, which blurred
the numbers "06:12", I decoded the pressured voice in the midst of the
static (not blaming the phone for this). It was V., who before identifying
herself, launched into a heartbreaking story. After waiting until sunrise
for her fully-armed boyfriend X. to arrive in the copter, she became
distraught over his tardiness, failure to send an emissary (usually someone
named "Antonio" helps in situations like this?), he didn't even call on the
cellular phone. She had already made the usual calls to X's villa, his
boat, his pilot, his current wife, and had verified with the Monaco police
that there was no news of recent arrests or murders. Exhausted and
confused, she requested an emergency neuropsychodynamic consultation, and
temporary lodging, until she could depend on friends to wake up and safely
escort her back to her native Monaco.
Given her acute distress, I of course agreed to help, and 10 minutes later
heard her footsteps resonating on the rue Meynadier. She crossed the
threshold to my studio/consultation suite, carrying shoes (one with a broken
heel), a Marlboro windbreaker over her evening dress, mascara streaks
marking her cheeks. After making herself more comfortable (she pointed out
that some evening attire is very restricting), and assuming a classical
psychoanalytic posture on the bed (no room for a couch), it was possible for
her to unburden herself of many psychological pressures associated with her
tense relationship with X, the difficulties of communicating effectively
with this man who is 25 years her senior, how his possessive traits
interfered with other peer-relationships that she valued intensely, and that
she would leave him were it not for certain concerns, such as his promise
that he would arrange to have her nostrils slit if she considered it. V's
free associations led her to speak of her father in highly idealized terms,
and shortly thereafter to comment on my appearance and demeanor in a similar
fashion. Recognizing that this rapid development of transference augured
well for a favorable outcome of brief psychotherapy, I persisted in the
application of an eclectic treatment approach, including various relaxation
techniques, to assist her progress. Although this treatment consumed 4 or 5
hours, with 10 to 15 minute naps for both client and therapist between
repeated, intensive sessions, she seemed much improved by noon, by which
time I felt it was safe to discharge her to the care of her friends.
Although the rigorous demands of the morning's emergency consultation had
been somewhat draining, I was invigorated in part by the successful outcome
of this treatment, and after an additional 1.5 hours of sleep, embarked upon
a systematic review of the various habitats that I had encountered in
Cannes. The Marina, the Croisette, the Martinez, the Carlton, the Majestic
. . . The tone had softened - many egos already departed to their native LA
lairs or NYC caverns - and the human foodstuffs had all but disappeared
(perhaps they had all been eaten? Only a lonely duck was sighted, but
remained mute when I inquired about his fellow animals, fruits, and
candies). Crowds still hovered 10-deep outside the Martinez, waiting for
what I know not, although perhaps the free ice cream cones distributed by
amiable and scantily clad vendors could help explain this congregation in
the absence of dazzling mega-stars. The Carlton Terrace was still full, but
cellular phones lay quietly, and closed Filofaxes rested on the tables. The
Majestic brought the only surprise. Perching on my customary seat at the
bar, I automatically ordered a Glenfiddich, before detecting the amber glint
of The Macallan on the second shelf.
"Just came in today" noted Henri from behind the bar, adjusting the epaulets
on his red uniform. "So now I don't have to drive to Monaco for a drink?"
I marvelled at the arrival of my preferred single malt, in the precise
location where I had initiated these investigations some 9 days or nights
before. Had my complaints about the absence of quality whisky in Cannes
been recognized? Did the Majestic's managers jack into the Internet and
read the harsh criticism? Or was this another clever plant by the
Rosicrucians? Henri cut through the seal, and pouring a double said: "It's
on me", further elevating my suspicion. After a quick sniff suggested no
obvious tampering, I took the gamble (as Timothy Leary said, "I'll try
anything twice"), and dove in while mentally summarizing the results of my
investigations.
I ruminated briefly on the taxonomy of species observed in Cannes. The
overall level of intellectual function that I had observed and documented,
immediately eliminated the justification for considering these members of
Homo *sapiens*, thus Homo "festivalorum" would be a more appropriate
descriptive term. At least three subspecies can be readily identified, as
alluded to earlier in these chronicles, and which I now term: "ascendicus",
"staticus", and "cynicus".
*H.f. ascendicus* comprises largely underemployed specimens who nevertheless
claim a broad range of talents and special skills. Most comment that they
simultaneously work as producers, directors, actors, and writers, although
few can produce permanent business addresses or phone numbers, suggesting
that they tend to be migratory. They are distinguished by hyper-vigilance
for opportunities, and dedicate their time to seeking the company of
receptive members of H.f. staticus.
*H.f. staticus* appear older (despite cosmetic surgery, uniform hair
coloration, and perfectly blended tans), more likely to have embossed or
engraved business cards, and more expensive cellular phones. They rarely
respond to questions about their activities, but this seems unecessary,
since many members of both ascendicus and cynicus appear to study these,
sometimes in excruciating detail. They move slowly, deliberately, and smile
almost constantly, but tend to avoid eye contact and minimize conversations,
except with other members of their own subspecies.
*H.f. cynicus* comprise largely individuals who describe themselves as
journalists, or "media" professionals. They typically pay less attention to
grooming and dress, and are sometimes marked by burdens of audiovisual
recording equipment. They tend to drink heavily, and like H.f. ascendicus,
are alert to the subtle movements of H.f. staticus, but spend more time
commenting on, than actively engaging this subspecies. They are more
articulate than the others, despite innebriation, and occasionally discuss
noncinematic topics. There is sparse evidence that some individuals may
transform from initial ascendicus, to either staticus or cynicus subspecies,
but longitudinal study would be needed to determine whether the anecdotal
reports are borne out.
Following these major forms, there are a profusion of other minor species -
particularly those that appear to serve as accessories to H.f. staticus, and
which include a predominance of females with dramatic markings and highly
developed physical attributes (although one member of H.f. cynicus suggested
to me that this could be a misleading result of surgical intervention).
Other forms, as documented in these notes, occupy a smaller but significant
niche.
Swirling the Macallan-coated ice cubes in my highball glass, I waxed
nostalgic over thoughts that this expedition would soon be over, but felt a
warmth from the accomplishments of this tour of duty (well, the warmth could
have been explained by the double Macallan). Looking back, I felt my
mission was largely accomplished. Classification of the major festival life
forms. In depth documentation of the remarkable case of Q, perhaps yielding
greater public attention to the sufferers of Gerstmann's syndrome and the
wide-spread prevalence of finger agnosia. Important excursions documenting
the penetration of Festimania to the East, but not the West of Cannes, and
leading to the Festivirus hypothesis. Important therapeutic progress in the
desparate and unfortunate case of V. I attempted to enumerate the costs of
this expedition: (a) still unknown brain and liver damage; (b) still
unaccounted for migration of many French francs from my wallet, not to
mention an uninspected bundle of VISA and AMEX receipts; (c) still to be
evaluated closure of coronary arteries by excessive consumption of fois
gras; and (d) still mysterious disappearance of my M.C. Escher bow tie
(apparently lost sometime between the beginning of the MTV party, and V's
migration back to Monaco). Overall, the scientific achievements appeared to
warrant the risks - not bad for a 10 day study.
Submitted with abiding respect, only slightly tinged by delirium,
your
Dr. Reichard Flickheimer
Suggestions? Comments? Fill out our Feedback Form.