Doug Mack | Blog

09 April 2012

Easy Rider Meets Werewolf In a PBS Station Lobby (a true story)

My sister and I are sitting in a PBS television station lobby in Tacoma, Washington. It's very 1970s. Wood paneling. Blaring television (PBS, natch). Regional magazines on the coffee table. It's ideally nondescript; it feels like it should be a dentist's office in a Coen brothers movie. To one side of the room, four or five employees are having a low-key meeting about programming.

I'm waiting for a producer will come out to get me--they've invited me to be on one of their shows to talk about my book. I rehearse my stock answers in my head, over and over.

A guy walks into the lobby, a guy who definitely doesn't fit your standard public broadcasting archetype. He's your classic Harley Davidson rider, wearing a denim vest with a Harley logo and the word HAWKS on the back; on his legs are black leather riding spats. He is a presence.

The meeting falls silent. My sister and I eye him, wondering what's about to happen. One of the employees in the meeting finally pipes up, her voice pert and professional and irrepressibly Church Lady-like. "Are you here for one of the shows?" she asks.

Thus begins one of the most amazing conversations I have heard in my life.

"I'm looking for the editorial department," he brays. I wonder what his complaint is. I wonder if he's packing heat. I wonder if the upholstery on my chair might, just maybe, conveniently, be made of Kevlar.

"I need to drop off some video," he continues. "I just shot a video of an actual werewolf!"

Silence.

What do you say to that?

Answer: You let the guy continue.

"Seriously," he says. "I know you think I'm crazy, but you've gotta see this, you're gonna freak out, man. And I got footage of a mother sasquatch nursing a baby. I ain't even kidding! We gotta get this on the air right now--people are gonna flip!"

Church Lady: "Well."

Pause. Everyone blinks a dozen times. My sister and I nearly bite through our lips to avoid making a sound.

For real: What do you say to that?

Church Lady continues, finally: "Well, you can drop it off here and we can give it to the program director."

"ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? No, man, this is too important! I can't just leave my video. I gotta explain some things, tell you what's going on. And just trust me, as soon as you see this, you're gonna flip and put it right on the air."

"Well, the program director is busy right now and ..." Church Lady looks around to her colleagues for help, but they are all still dumbstruck.

She's trying her very best not to sound too patronizing, not to laugh, not to tell him he's crazy, not to tell him that the station is, you know, PBS, and not exactly the sort of venue for werewolf footage, even if it is the real deal.

"Aw, you're KILLING me!," the guy says. "I got a werewolf on camera! An honest-to-God werewolf! I wanted you guys to have it--I'm not gonna go to Seattle and give it to 4 or something. It's all for you. A werewolf! I'll wait for the program director." He sits down emphatically, sending his message. "Go get him out here."

"Well, I'm sorry, I ... I just can't. He's busy. But there's a form that you can fill out for dropping off video."

"For real? This is legit, man! A freaking werewolf on tape! Okay, okay, where's the form? I've gotta write down some long stuff about what you're seeing and what to look for and stuff."

He's not angry, not really--just deeply disappointed, let down by the world, incredulous, unable to fathom that no one believes him. A freakin' werewolf, I ain't lying.

He gets to work. Some ten minutes later, when the PBS producer calls me back, the werewolf hunter is still hunched over the desk, sribbling furiously.

When I return to the lobby after filming the show, he is gone. I wish I'd given him my card. I wish I'd asked him to show me the footage right then and there.

It's the kind of story that you know is great--not the werewolf per se, I mean, but the guy. He's so earnest, almost adorably so, kid-like in his sincerity, in his efforts to make us believe. What's his story? Is he the type who spends hours in the woods looking for this sort of thing, an amateur cryptozoologist on a Harley?

You know there's more of a story there. Gotta be.

Scenes from a book launch party (+ the reviews are in!)

And then one day you wake up and realize that you have not only written a book but the book is now available everywhere and is, like, official, which makes you a real, legit author.

Oh. Man.

So. The book is here, as of April 3rd! (Available everywhere, including IndieBound, my favorite indie stores, Amazon, and B&N ... just sayin'.) And various people have been saying various nice things about it. Like:

“An amusing and a wonderful read.” - Arthur Frommer
(on the radio show Rudy Maxa's World; listen to his full glowing review here.)

“Refreshing in its intelligence, candor, good-humored self-deprecation, and insightful redemption of the much-maligned tourist, Mack’s account is a trail-reblazing testament to the transformative power of travel in the modern world, and to the enduring richness of those well-trod places where authenticity, history, culture, and fame compose their own never-ending narratives.”
- National Geographic Traveler

“A genial companion for the armchair traveler.” - Kirkus Reviews

For more coverage, including yours truly on Minnesota Public Radio, my television debut on KARE 11, and interviews in the Detroit Free Press, MSNBC.com, World Hum, and various other places, check out the Press & Praise section of the book site.

And I had a book launch party! Nearly two hundred people (!!) packed into Honey in Northeast Minneapolis. I read a scene about being stalked by creepy Mozart-costumed guys in Vienna and then did an authentic old-school slide show. All while wearing that seersucker suit you may have seen in my book trailer. Photos by my pal career break guru Kirk Horsted:

Despite what it looks like, I am not rapping in this photo, I am about to start a slide show.
Question for discussion, though: Should my rapper stage name be D-Mack or Seersucka? Please advise.

And the Best Postcard Winner is ...

First, this contest needs a name. I mean, aside from the Pimp My Postcard Galley Giveaway Contest, which is more or less what I was calling it in my head, but which lacks the esteemed tone and roll-off-the-tongue catchiness of the Oscars or the Pulitzers or the Iggies.

Let's call them the Posties, shall we?

And now, herewith, some Postie winners, counting down to the Grand Postie, which will be honored not with a boring ol' gold statue (meh) but with a signed galley (hooray!). Scroll to the bottom if you're the impatient type and/or want to see if you won.

The Postie for Okay, That's Seriously Impressive and Kind of Freaking Me Out goes to a collective, the previously noted vast Pantone postcard conspiracy. Incidentally, said conspiracy shows no signs of abating and which, actually, is only gaining strength. I've now received Pantone postcards from Bali, Hawaii, New Zealand, Switzerland, Scotland, and something like sixty-three states. I think I'm up to nearly a hundred Pantone postcards now, and I'm starting to see some duplicate postcards. You know what that means? It means there's more than one pack of postcards out there in the conspiracy-mix; there's the potential for at least two hundred of these things if and when the conspiracy reaches its conclusion.

These are just the cards that I've received since I last posted about the Pantone conspiracy.

A few favorite individual cards:

Does anyone speak computer?

Front. See below for back.

Back.

Note the first two comments. Forcing your kids to write postcards: cruel child-labor or noble life lesson? Discuss.

Caption trend: writing comments about the weather on the backs of gray swatch postcards.
Three different people did this, including Shirley in Indonesia.

Front of the above postcard.

Switzerland ...

Iceland ...

Pantone conspiracy masterminds, I salute you.

Indeed.

The Postie in the Great Effort Foiled By the Postal Service category goes to MB, who sent four different cards from Hawaii, each one with a single word on them: "Aloha," "Hawaii," "On," "A." Three of the postcards are pictured here below.

As you will note, however, "Aloha Hawaii On A" doesn't much sense, no matter how you shuffle around those words. It seems that there may be some other missing words--I'm going to guess I was supposed to get more postcards. I just hope the message isn't supposed to be "Aloha. I'm shipwrecked in Hawaii, on a shark-infested lagoon. Please send help forthwith."

Moving on, the finalists.

This postcard, truthfully, is my overall favorite. It wins the Postie for Best Defacing of Photos of an Author:

Irn Bru is a vile but wildly popular soft drink native to Scotland, in case you were wondering.

Yes, that's me, along with Maren, my ~~girlfriend~~ fiancee (in other news, I just got engaged!). The postcard came from Ann Schaefer, my mother's friend and 1967 traveling companion, who was immediately disqualified because I was already going to give her a copy of the book. My favorite part about this postcard, though, is that it knowingly echoes a set of photos that Ann and my mother sent back home during their own European trip.

Mom's on the left, Ann's on the right.

In second place is a monster who wins two Posties, for both Best Use of Street Art in a Postcard and Most Surprising Pantone Postcard Conspirators. It comes from my friends at the Key West Literary Seminar, Michael and Kathy; Arlo and Ashley; and Miles and Alan. The endearingly goofy monster you see below is covering up a Pantone postcard (note to Michael and Kathy, et. al: Seriously, how did you get roped into the conspiracy? This thing runs way deeper than I thought ...). I forget the name of the street artist--you see these little creatures here and there around Key West--but I'm hoping someone will remind me in the comments.

And finally ... The Grand Postie. Winner of the galley and the bookmarks and a lifetime of bragging rights!

This card probably doesn't look particularly special on the computer screen.

But those stamps weren't just Photoshopped on. Those are, no kidding, actual authentic vintage postage stamps affixed to the card. That. That is fantastic. And the card itself is from a 1935 ad in Fortune magazine, as explained on the back:

And on top of everything--on top of making a postcard from a vintage magazine and vintage postcards, on top of generally playing right into the retro-travel theme of my book--there's a fortune for me. Generous, no? And utterly fantastic.

Congrats, Renee--you win the Grand Postie and the Europe on Five Wrong Turns a Day galley! Kudos on a job very well done. Email me your address (doug@douglasmack.net) and I'll send you the book ASAP.

Finally, many thanks to everyone who sent me a postcard or letter. If you included your address, I'll write back. (It might take me a few more weeks, given the book launch and tour, but I won't forget about you.)

The contest is over, but please do keep writing!

27 March 2012

Commentary Track Bookmarks

A while back--like, a long while back--I was thinking about merchandise tie-ins for my book:

What would be the logical options? Um. Tacky t-shirts. Tourist action figure (Now whips out the camera 3 times faster!). Postcards. Beer bottles or coasters, maybe. Pastries, definitely. Yes, that's it: [Europe on Five Wrong Turns a Day]-branded croissants! Any bakers who read this should call me to talk numbers, make deals, plan strategy. Big money awaits! Mega-profits guaranteed!!

For some reason, that never quite worked out. Alas. Neither did the plan to give give away canal-side houses in Amsterdam to all of my readers. I tried, but, man, you wouldn't believe the paperwork.

What I settled on instead was this: Commentary Track Bookmarks.

DVDs come with commentary tracks and assorted extras, so why shouldn't books? Commentary Track Bookmarks are, yes, bookmarks featuring page-specific outtakes, notes on the writing process, photos, and other behind-the-scenes insights into my travels and my book. They were inspired in part by my friend Rolf Potts's excellent book Marco Polo Didn't Go There, which had commentary track sections at the end of each story.

There are forty different bookmark designs--collect 'em all! Come to one of the book tour events and I'll give you one--or send me a letter or postcard and I'll include one in my reply. Below are two examples; there are more at the bottom of each page as you click around the book web site.

And if you're wondering how to some for yourself, there's a bit of a trick involved. . . .

Book Trailer: How to Pack Like a 1960s Tourist

Many thanks to the excellent Alex Cleberg, producer, editor, script-tweaker, and all-around Awesome Guy Who Made This Video Happen.

For the full story about the packing list, read the book! It comes out April 3rd from Perigee Books/Penguin. Pre-order: IndieBound » Amazon » Barnes & Noble » my favorite indie stores.

For some quick additional background, keep reading here ...

30 Mid-Century Travel Ads to Spark Retro Wanderlust

First, a Public Service Announcement: LAST CHANCE to enter the Galley Giveaway / Pimp My Postcard contest! (Original deadline was this Thursday, but I'll probably accept anything I get through the weekend.)

And now I present to you ... thirty old-fashioned travel ads from Life magazine in the 1940s, '50s, and '60s. I found these when I was at the library researching my retro-European-travel-and-stuff book (cough-ahem, comes out April 3rd). They're in chronological order, starting with the 1940s. Most are for specific destinations or ways to get there (e.g. airlines), but I've also included some for travel accessories or that offer some sort of insight into how Americans thought about travel in a given year--like the Chef Boy-Ar-Dee ads that claim popping open a can of spaghetti is "Almost like being in a cafe in Rome."

Note how the mode of transportation and the specific places being advertised evolves over the years. The earliest ones, with one notable exception, are all about seeing the USA by road or rail. Later on, they're about package tours to Europe. And at the very end, in the 1960s, the ads emphasize independent travel to Europe. Okay, enough set-up. You're just here for the ads.