Before I ever booked a Trans-Atlantic flight, I targeted Giles Peterson as someone I needed to track down whilst on the other side of the pond. I put out a bunch of feelers to my circle and came up empty. Didn't seem like a problem, though. At this point in life, I've heard "No" so many times that "Yes" is a three-letter surprise to me.
Giles, as you may know, is a massive British DJ who has a show on BBC radio. Giles is also a long-time supporter of the Roots. The Roots are an integral part of my flick. A friend of the Roots should also be a friend of mine I figured. Hence, the ?uest to link up with Giles.
The new homies from the fest gave me two handfuls of leads who might be able to get me to him. I arrived in England late on Mon and figured I'd have Tues to make chase.
When I woke up on Tues, it occurred to me that I might actually be on a fool's mission. I mean, I could have handed Giles a DVD, but--whether he liked it or not--what exactly was he gonna do with it?
The new homie Kevin had put me onto this cat from the British Film Institute (BFI). I thought he'd be a most appropriate--and logical--target, so I rang him. He was on the grind himself but agreed to link up near a tube stop to do a little hand-off.
I met him. Handed him a DVD, flyer and business card. We were headed in the same direction, so we walked and talked for about 7 minutes total. He said he'd been hearing about the okaymentary and that he'd be interested in screening it at the BFI. I'd hardly call this an official meeting. Nor a firm commitment. Yet, it seemed as if this is the way things really get done in the entertainment industry.
Find someone to vouch for you. Make a call. Shake a hand. Fill that hand with something. Keep it moving. Cross your fingers.
Sometimes there's an office involved. Sometimes it happens in the street. As long as it happens.
And, when it does, I presume that I'll be able to make a new friend called Giles.