2004-03-06 @ 3:50 p.m.
If you're wondering what those numbers are, they aren't the combination to my bank vault or to my bicycle. They represent my art show last night.
It took me a total of 4 hours of walking and waiting and standing on darkened street corners with creeps and gangstas to go a mere 5 miles (although if you were driving one of those new fangled things called automobiles, it would have only taken about 10 minutes) on 6 separate buses to stand in a cement hallway and look at a couple pieces of art on the floor for 10 minutes.
Oh, the art show reception was canceled.
And I wasn't aware of it.
It really wasn't anyone's fault, so I can't really throw a hissy fit. Well, I could, because it was someone's fault. It seems that the location where the show was hung (an arts building) was next to a sports arena. And they were having a sporting event.
And can you guess what draws more people in our culturally challenged town? Yup, the basketball tournament.
And unfortunately the college couldn't offer security for a building that is normally left open, so they just told our hippy leader to break it down.
I actually got there a little late. Because in usual bipolar manner, I decided at the last posible moment to catch a 6:45 bus for a 7:30 arrival time. I was still cooking dinner at 6:29.
Ha, ha, ha, bipolars are so funny!
Had to dive into what I imagined an artist might wear to a gallery reception. A black knit skirt. Sleeveless eggplant colored shell. My cool embroidered sweater. And some black silk sandals. We were actually having the warmest night of the year thus far. Around 55.
Jammed my new digital camera into my purse. My brother gave me a Nikon Coolpix 900 for my birthday. He had given me lessons for nearly 2 hours on Tuesday, but I am still totally confused by all the buttons on it. But I brought it with me anyways. And hoped that nobody would mug me, since I already had some cute pictures of Kidlet on it.
Then I did the three bus thing. My God. I'm fairly certain the second bus driver had a death wish. He had gotten stuck in traffic downtown (there was a wrestling event and traffic was snarled in a two block area). So to make up time, he would floor it for one block and then slam on the brake, and floor it for a half a block and then slam on the brakes. If I didn't have fucking whiplash already, I would have gotten last night.
And then, evidently he missed a turn while he was going through the college campus. And I was just getting ready to get off at the top of the campus. And he took this turn so fast I think the bus nearly became airborne and I looked around at everyone else and their eyes were nearly popping out of their heads and they're all nervously whispering, "Isn't this the **** run? Where's he going" (because he had blown off the regular route).
And then he went through the entire college campus again, and nearly ran up over the top of a Passat. And he was clearly agitated and cursing, and we're all looking at each other like WTF!?!
He finally let me off at the top of the campus and I said, "Well, that was certainly an adventure" and he nearly snapped my ass with the bus doors as I was exiting.
Yup, I truly love public transportation.
So I got to the art building and the doors were locked. Within seconds I convinced myself that I had somehow screwed up my dates. I kept pulling on the doors. Nothing. Finally a student walked by inside and I got him to open the doors. Went in. No people. Took a quick restroom break (you know, after the bus ride from hell), and when I came out, I finally saw some of the people from my art class gathered by the front door. And with them a bunch of bins with our artwork inside.
Johnson (our hippy leader) told us about what happened and about how the college had pulled the plug rather abruptly, but he thought since we were gathered we should have an impromptu art show in the hallway, so he pulled out a few of the larger pieces and we ooo'd and ah'd.
I had Johnson take a couple of pictures with my camera. So at least we'll have that. Maybe he can put those in next month's newsletter.
I suppose I could have asked for a ride from someone at that point (the lesbians never showed), but I didn't (too shy). So I just headed out into the swirling masses of slobbering sports fans. It was total chaos outside. Major traffic. Buses going in and out of the lot. Gangs of young men roaming about, making guttural sports-related noises. I finally got down to the main campus on the bus, but then had to walk through the university to a little shopping area. Was a little nervous walking in the dark in flimsy sandals.
Also felt a little stupid because I had no clue when the next bus went downtown. The only schedule I had was for a bus that didn't come through until 11 p.m. And it was only about 9:05. I knew I didn't just want to stand around til then and I definitely didn't want to be downtown at 11 p.m. It's seedy even in the daytime.
So I went into an ice cream parlor and told the guy I needed to "drown my sorrows in chocolate." He laughed, and then I asked him about the buses. He said one came every half hour, so I felt some relief, especially after burying my face into a big scoop of chocolate moose tracks ice cream. Yum!
So I finally got downtown, and the bus home was already waiting. Quickly transferred my little scared body to that one. Had to sit in front of two obnoxious 13 year old boys who were having a fart festival.
It was "Let's see who can make the funniest fart noises" time for a good 10 minutes. I guess that was better than sitting in front of someone transporting cocaine.
For the last half of the trip I had to move up to the front seat because I couldn't see out of the bus windows. There are advertisements plastered all over the outside of the bus, and they obscure your vision, even in the daytime.
So the busdriver noticed I moved up and I felt strangely obligated to tell him why. Well, this guy, unlike his predecessor (the Death Wish guy), was a total chatterbox. And I think he was trying to impress me. (Hey, I was dressed up and pretty happening last night. I also had a guy at the campus bus stop strike up a conversation with me too -- but he was...umm shudder...kinda weird).
But that busdriver was trying to pack as much info about himself into 10 blocks as he possibly could. About his life as a bus driver. About his 60 bus routes. And the fact that he was a licensed locksmith (definitely a way to get chicks, my friend, definitely a way to get chicks). And that he planned to move to Florida in the next couple of years.
He then asked me if I was getting of work. And I said no, that I was just coming home from an art show. And he said, "Oh, at the Anderson?"
Well, it was a nice try, but that isn't the name of our museum, or art gallery in town. I gingerly corrected him and said, no, I was coming from a gallery up near the college. He again went for a way to impress me with his art knowledge, which was, well nonexistent, but I let him go for it.
I think that is how male/female conversation goes, right "A"? Just let guys trip over themselves to impress you. Ok, good.
And then we got to my corner, and he nearly overshot it because he was trying to think of Kandinsky or something, but I managed to get home safely. And that was nice.
So this morning my mom called me. "Oh, what did you do last night?" I guess I should preface this first by saying that yesterday afternoon, before I did the three bus trek, my mother had stopped by my house after a doctor's appointment and I had made repeated references to the fact that I was going to go my art show last night. As in Art show...ART SHOW....art show...(ahem) art show.
So this morning when I said, "Well, I went to my art show", she said, "Oh, you had an art show?"
(By the way, she doesn't have Alzheimer's or anything...just an extremly rare version of WittyKittyheimer's).
So here is a little thing I did last week. My scanner isn't the best. (Or maybe its the artist...har har.) And it lost alot detail and sharpness once it got to Diaryland. (ALOT!!!!) The model also had her chin buried in her chest. It looked a little weird. Like Mongoloid Suzy or something. Ok, enough excuses. It's an artist learning how to do art. Or at least do something other than draw a face represented by a round circle with two dots. Maybe in another 6 months, I'll be Picasso, or Wittykitty with Pastels. We'll see. But at least its fun and a good way to relieve stress and express myself.
And it may not be perfect, mom, but its a start...
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty