boredom induced mediocrity
Yesterday started a bit late in a typically lazy fashion and blended into the early hours of this morning. Surreal and epic would be words I would use to describe my adventures yesterday. Let me bring you all up to speed.
The first part of the day was spent sitting around the house, a bit tired, a bit bored, yet with no where to go. Because of the fact that I kind of did something illegal, I am serving my time in my little cozy prison down here in Highlands Ranch.
So.
For the next day or two I am only allowed out for work, and much to my dismay, I can only be out for twelve hours. Biff.
On a sidenote, this really kills me because twelve hours out only grants me an 8.5 hour day at my second home. This is simply not enough. I am used to working at least ten or eleven hours a day down there, and when I don't get my time in, my bank account suffers. Be that as it may, I would take in home any day over jail. I have been there too, only for a brief time, and believe me, it sucked. I fucking hate the system, and my idea of hell is being caught up in the middle of it (incarceration/institutionalization).
Moving into what's next.
For the first part of the day I just slacked. I should have cleaned my office, but I didn't. I could have organized the garage pt.2, but I didn't. I was recovering from a wicked but brief head cold, so like any responsible person I sat around my office reading the news, looking at pornography, eating ordered in pizza, and drinking rum and pepsi. Classy, I know. Go ahead and judge me.
I dare say, I have not had a Saturday morning that mellow in a very, very long time. The only thing that sucked was that I was unable to take das hund out. Oh well, the in home detention ends tomorrow, so I must be both patient and grateful. It could have been much worse. Although there is no doubt in my mind that I could both survive and possibly benefit from a bit of jail time, I simply cannot take the time off work.
Because I want.
To fit.
In.
Four thirty rolled around a lot sooner than I thought it would, and it was time to get out of the shower, get dressed, and head down town for work. Dark clouds were forming over the mountains and it looked like a storm was approaching from the west. Despite the gathering gloom, my fellow Ranchers were in good, early spring Saturday afternoon cheer. Shorts, soccer games, baseball practice, 2.5 kids, and German convertibles were all seen in abundance on my way from my cozy prison to my second home.
There are times that I wish I had a more conventional life, free of demanding schedules and poor choices. I wish I had the means to take vacations and travel. Have friends and be social outside of work. Possibly be part of something other than the problem.
There has to be something out there for me.
For now though, the little funhouse downtown that I work at keeps me entertained and level. Of course, merging my bad habits with the Adam's family culture has landed me in a few sticky situations, never the less, I have survived. I am unforgiven, yet stronger than never ever before.
The other day, I struck gold. Cruz foolishly left a set of keys on his desk after he departed for the night. With me in charge, none the less. You would think after working with me for a year one would get the understanding that I am relentlessly curious. If I see a set of keys, I am going to prowl the two city blocks that I rule at night to try to find out what doors those keys open. Urban exploration is a passion of mine, and there is nothing I would rather be doing than exploring the vast warrens of the Adam's Mark Hotel late at night. Fate smiled the other day when I came into possession of the fan room master key.
In addition to carte blanche access to EVERY fan room between the two buildings, I can access most of the engineering rooms, sub-basement storage rooms, Randy's office, the roof, Director's Row electrical room, engineering room access from the parking garage!, and I found an air shaft that can get me from Tower to Plaza.
I have not even tried this thing out on 3b or 4b.
I arrived at work yesterday at about 6:20pm, with very little to do until the 11:30 strike. Chris and I struck the four guest suites, oh wait, three guest suites. Housekeeping struck the forth one in their own chaotic way. We had to clean up their mess down in the housekeeping office. By 7:30, Chris was out and free in the Saturday evening breeze. Kelly told me that Cruz would be back at eight, but in reality he did not show up until quarter to twelve, after I got the main truss stripped and grounded.
I was alone with little to do for a good four hours. I took one or two banquets calls, Mike was in fine form last night let me tell you.
Remcit and I played phone tag. I cleared the EONS out of South Convention Lobby. Two wired LAVs were added to the Terrorist room.
After that, I went exploring. First stop, 2B.
The fan room down there is absolutely massive. I had no idea that 2B is the central point for BOTH building's HVAC infrastructure. I had flashbacks to Doom, Quake, Half Life, Deus Ex, System Shock 2, and every other video game I played as a kid walking through these somber engineering sectors. For about three hours I wandered around storerooms, fan rooms, valve chambers, air shafts, and maintenance tunnels. I have never felt so at home.
Eleven rolled around, and Los Lonely Boys were wrapping things up in the Plaza Ballroom. I am an outlaw torn. I would love to spend my Saturday nights attending black tie galas, because that is what normal people do. Instead, I spend my Saturday nights prowling around in the bowels of the Adam's Mark, braving heat, cold, and a meat grinder of spinning blades.
For some reason, I feel more at home with the latter. What the hell. I have already let my family down more than I care to admit. So bury my heart at the Adam's Mark.
On a whim, I decide to try out my new key in that room behind Savoy that I could never get open. Even security is clueless as to what lies behind this mysterious door.
The lock rolls free, and I pat myself on the back. I am so golden. Sure enough, just as the sign read, I now have access to more valve controls.
Deep down, I was hoping for yet another access to the Plaza building, but I must rest satisfied with the one I found through the air tunnels behind fan room 5.
All in all it was a good evening.
Eleven thirty rolls around and the guests are cleared out of the ballroom. PSAV is there to help me out, and still no sign of Cruz. I rally my troops with a game plan, there is not much that we can do until banquets gets the dance floor out of the way, and fucking Mike gives me lip when I ask him when he is going to get it out of the way. I swear, I am tempted to drive my lift across that thing just to teach him a lesson.
Fucking banquets.
PSAV and I get everything staged, the motor distro, the motor cable, all the lighting and rigging cases are lined up. I push the amp rack out of the way so that power can be run to the distro, and the lift is moved right up to the dance floor. Mike gets the point and tells me to chill out already. I shoot him the bird. I have seven people waiting for my call, and I cannot let them stand around with their arms crossed waiting for banquets.
Fortunately there is plenty to do in preparation for the strike. Several cases can be staged near the freight elevator. The rigging and lighting accessories have already been placed near the stage, I elect to move them closer, just to turn the heat up on banquets.
Don't get me wrong here. I shout out props to banquets. I have mad love for Margret, Mike, Brian, Eric, Ankika, Penny, Abraham, Ahmed, and occasionally Don. I love our friendly rivalry, and how we wound up on banquets payroll is beyond me.
So. Banquets finally has the stupid dance floor out of the way, and I am on the lift barking orders to my colleagues on the ground. I hope that we become PSAV, because these guys know what the fuck they are doing. I tell them to run motor cables to channels 1 through 4, and I tell them the order that I want the ports to follow, and they know exactly what I am talking about. I would gladly work for any of these guys, and I would ask any one of them to work for me.
The front truss comes down, I instruct everyone on where the source four lekos live. I pull out the main rigging cases so that the spanset, bolts, shackles, five and ten foot steel can all go back to their residences.
I am blown away by how fast everything gets taken apart with a dozen people. I have my staff plus the reinforcements from PSAV. Rollins is responsible for the two mains plus the four delays, and the decor company is doing their own thing clearing off our drape.
A mere two and a half hours later, the show is taken down, and all the components are pushed back to 3B. While the PSAV crew and I were finishing up the push, Cruz and Hector struck the P&D from Tiffany Rose.
After all was said and done, we were out of there by 2:30 (3:30 if you consider daylight savings time).
Hard to believe that last year at this time I was doing another late night strike. Last year I was the assistant rigger, yesterday I was calling the shots. Hard to believe how much can be accomplished in just one year from asking questions, showing initiative, and stepping up. I dare say I am just a bit satisfied with myself.
So, my fellow spacecataz, I must vanish again into the night.
Cheers!
Patient Saint
The first part of the day was spent sitting around the house, a bit tired, a bit bored, yet with no where to go. Because of the fact that I kind of did something illegal, I am serving my time in my little cozy prison down here in Highlands Ranch.
So.
For the next day or two I am only allowed out for work, and much to my dismay, I can only be out for twelve hours. Biff.
On a sidenote, this really kills me because twelve hours out only grants me an 8.5 hour day at my second home. This is simply not enough. I am used to working at least ten or eleven hours a day down there, and when I don't get my time in, my bank account suffers. Be that as it may, I would take in home any day over jail. I have been there too, only for a brief time, and believe me, it sucked. I fucking hate the system, and my idea of hell is being caught up in the middle of it (incarceration/institutionalization).
Moving into what's next.
For the first part of the day I just slacked. I should have cleaned my office, but I didn't. I could have organized the garage pt.2, but I didn't. I was recovering from a wicked but brief head cold, so like any responsible person I sat around my office reading the news, looking at pornography, eating ordered in pizza, and drinking rum and pepsi. Classy, I know. Go ahead and judge me.
I dare say, I have not had a Saturday morning that mellow in a very, very long time. The only thing that sucked was that I was unable to take das hund out. Oh well, the in home detention ends tomorrow, so I must be both patient and grateful. It could have been much worse. Although there is no doubt in my mind that I could both survive and possibly benefit from a bit of jail time, I simply cannot take the time off work.
Because I want.
To fit.
In.
Four thirty rolled around a lot sooner than I thought it would, and it was time to get out of the shower, get dressed, and head down town for work. Dark clouds were forming over the mountains and it looked like a storm was approaching from the west. Despite the gathering gloom, my fellow Ranchers were in good, early spring Saturday afternoon cheer. Shorts, soccer games, baseball practice, 2.5 kids, and German convertibles were all seen in abundance on my way from my cozy prison to my second home.
There are times that I wish I had a more conventional life, free of demanding schedules and poor choices. I wish I had the means to take vacations and travel. Have friends and be social outside of work. Possibly be part of something other than the problem.
There has to be something out there for me.
For now though, the little funhouse downtown that I work at keeps me entertained and level. Of course, merging my bad habits with the Adam's family culture has landed me in a few sticky situations, never the less, I have survived. I am unforgiven, yet stronger than never ever before.
The other day, I struck gold. Cruz foolishly left a set of keys on his desk after he departed for the night. With me in charge, none the less. You would think after working with me for a year one would get the understanding that I am relentlessly curious. If I see a set of keys, I am going to prowl the two city blocks that I rule at night to try to find out what doors those keys open. Urban exploration is a passion of mine, and there is nothing I would rather be doing than exploring the vast warrens of the Adam's Mark Hotel late at night. Fate smiled the other day when I came into possession of the fan room master key.
In addition to carte blanche access to EVERY fan room between the two buildings, I can access most of the engineering rooms, sub-basement storage rooms, Randy's office, the roof, Director's Row electrical room, engineering room access from the parking garage!, and I found an air shaft that can get me from Tower to Plaza.
I have not even tried this thing out on 3b or 4b.
I arrived at work yesterday at about 6:20pm, with very little to do until the 11:30 strike. Chris and I struck the four guest suites, oh wait, three guest suites. Housekeeping struck the forth one in their own chaotic way. We had to clean up their mess down in the housekeeping office. By 7:30, Chris was out and free in the Saturday evening breeze. Kelly told me that Cruz would be back at eight, but in reality he did not show up until quarter to twelve, after I got the main truss stripped and grounded.
I was alone with little to do for a good four hours. I took one or two banquets calls, Mike was in fine form last night let me tell you.
Remcit and I played phone tag. I cleared the EONS out of South Convention Lobby. Two wired LAVs were added to the Terrorist room.
After that, I went exploring. First stop, 2B.
The fan room down there is absolutely massive. I had no idea that 2B is the central point for BOTH building's HVAC infrastructure. I had flashbacks to Doom, Quake, Half Life, Deus Ex, System Shock 2, and every other video game I played as a kid walking through these somber engineering sectors. For about three hours I wandered around storerooms, fan rooms, valve chambers, air shafts, and maintenance tunnels. I have never felt so at home.
Eleven rolled around, and Los Lonely Boys were wrapping things up in the Plaza Ballroom. I am an outlaw torn. I would love to spend my Saturday nights attending black tie galas, because that is what normal people do. Instead, I spend my Saturday nights prowling around in the bowels of the Adam's Mark, braving heat, cold, and a meat grinder of spinning blades.
For some reason, I feel more at home with the latter. What the hell. I have already let my family down more than I care to admit. So bury my heart at the Adam's Mark.
On a whim, I decide to try out my new key in that room behind Savoy that I could never get open. Even security is clueless as to what lies behind this mysterious door.
The lock rolls free, and I pat myself on the back. I am so golden. Sure enough, just as the sign read, I now have access to more valve controls.
Deep down, I was hoping for yet another access to the Plaza building, but I must rest satisfied with the one I found through the air tunnels behind fan room 5.
All in all it was a good evening.
Eleven thirty rolls around and the guests are cleared out of the ballroom. PSAV is there to help me out, and still no sign of Cruz. I rally my troops with a game plan, there is not much that we can do until banquets gets the dance floor out of the way, and fucking Mike gives me lip when I ask him when he is going to get it out of the way. I swear, I am tempted to drive my lift across that thing just to teach him a lesson.
Fucking banquets.
PSAV and I get everything staged, the motor distro, the motor cable, all the lighting and rigging cases are lined up. I push the amp rack out of the way so that power can be run to the distro, and the lift is moved right up to the dance floor. Mike gets the point and tells me to chill out already. I shoot him the bird. I have seven people waiting for my call, and I cannot let them stand around with their arms crossed waiting for banquets.
Fortunately there is plenty to do in preparation for the strike. Several cases can be staged near the freight elevator. The rigging and lighting accessories have already been placed near the stage, I elect to move them closer, just to turn the heat up on banquets.
Don't get me wrong here. I shout out props to banquets. I have mad love for Margret, Mike, Brian, Eric, Ankika, Penny, Abraham, Ahmed, and occasionally Don. I love our friendly rivalry, and how we wound up on banquets payroll is beyond me.
So. Banquets finally has the stupid dance floor out of the way, and I am on the lift barking orders to my colleagues on the ground. I hope that we become PSAV, because these guys know what the fuck they are doing. I tell them to run motor cables to channels 1 through 4, and I tell them the order that I want the ports to follow, and they know exactly what I am talking about. I would gladly work for any of these guys, and I would ask any one of them to work for me.
The front truss comes down, I instruct everyone on where the source four lekos live. I pull out the main rigging cases so that the spanset, bolts, shackles, five and ten foot steel can all go back to their residences.
I am blown away by how fast everything gets taken apart with a dozen people. I have my staff plus the reinforcements from PSAV. Rollins is responsible for the two mains plus the four delays, and the decor company is doing their own thing clearing off our drape.
A mere two and a half hours later, the show is taken down, and all the components are pushed back to 3B. While the PSAV crew and I were finishing up the push, Cruz and Hector struck the P&D from Tiffany Rose.
After all was said and done, we were out of there by 2:30 (3:30 if you consider daylight savings time).
Hard to believe that last year at this time I was doing another late night strike. Last year I was the assistant rigger, yesterday I was calling the shots. Hard to believe how much can be accomplished in just one year from asking questions, showing initiative, and stepping up. I dare say I am just a bit satisfied with myself.
So, my fellow spacecataz, I must vanish again into the night.
Cheers!
Patient Saint