After a drink with the fishy woman... things just got wierd.
Or... how I went drinking with a strange woman, dumpster diving with body parts, and ended up joining a union. So, the other day as I was shutting down the store and getting ready to go home for the evening, one of our regular customers, an attractive lady, asked me if I wanted to hang out and grab a couple of beers before heading home. Now normally I would have said “no”; however this lady is strange, but in a good way so my answer was different.
Since the pet store I work at is only 2 blocks away from a methadone clinic, we get our share of strange (and not in a good way) people, both men and women. Usually they are harmless… they get their methadone, and then don’t know what to do with themselves and so come into our store and either talk a lot, or front all our shelves for us, pick up every little bit of paper on the floor, etc. etc. We have one lady who comes in and regularly separates our male from our female bettas, which is odd, but harmless.
But this lady, the one who asked me out, is not strange in that way. She is middle-aged, comes into the store infrequently, and buys all the most expensive/rare African cichlids we have when she does. She has something like 20-30 fish tanks at her home, which is a great new take on the “crazy cat lady” routine. So to her, I said “OK”.
So, we were drinking our drinks and chatting about fish and other such things and there was a television going in the corner of the bar. A news story came on about additional charges being pressed in the Rhode Island Nightclub Fire case. I of course, expressed my opinion about the people responsible for setting up the pyrotechnics in that fiasco. I don’t care if the sound proofing was up to code or not really, the sparks from a pyro device should NEVER hit any part of the stage back drop, period! Whoever set those gerbs up should be held responsible… end of story.
So, once I got done with that particular rant of mine, this woman looked at me and said “Are you Yahtzee?” I was silent for a minute, trying to figure out what she was asking me.
“You mean do I play Yahtzee?” I asked her. She said “no, was I a member of the local Yahtzee union.” More long silences ensued while I tried to figure out if she was asking me to go to an S&M party or a gaming geek party, or what.
So, to make a long and confusing conversation short, this woman told me her boyfriend is the drummer for a band. (I knew she had a boyfriend when she asked me out… it wasn’t THAT kind of a date.)
She then told me that because I knew about stage pyrotechnics, had long hair and carried a knife, she thought I might be a member of the union that sets up shows for bands and such, which is the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees, Moving Picture Technicians, Artists and Allied Crafts of the United States and Canada …or; IATSEMPTAACUSC, or shortened is IATSE, which when pronounced, sounds like Yahtzee. I told her no, I wasn’t, and she said I should look into it, because I looked and sounded like the type of person that would do well in IATSE. Funny, but the description of “Doesn’t play well with others” which has often been applied to me, does not make me instantly think I’d be a good fit for a group of people… any group of people. We finished our drinks, chatted for a bit about fish and stage stuff, and then went our respective ways.
Now, I have always had a mixed opinion of unions; some are good, some are bad… just like any tool, it’s all in what you use it for. Saws for instance, can be used to cut a victim out of flood wreckage, or to dismember a body in an attempt to cover a crime…same tool, different intent. I think Sports unions are bad… it is because of them you end up with grossly overpaid athletes who cannot be fired or let go; due to an “unseemly behavior” clause in their contract; which basically states that you can’t drop them from the team for acting like a complete asshat. Then again, if Wal-Mart hates and fears unions so much, the unions have to be doing something right!
So, the next day, I did some research on IATSE, found nothing completely horrid, so decided to give them a look-see. I called, made an appointment and went down to talk to them. Their offices are in Chinatown… when I called to ask them the location of their office; they asked me if I knew where Boston Costume was, and when I said yes, I was practically on a first name basis with those folks… they gave me directions from there. I was happy to see that the IATSE offices are in a run down building behind a statue of Confucius. My union dues would not be going to pay rent on a swanky over/priced office condo; or even a functioning coffee maker, more’s the pity.
So, after chatting for a while; with them looking suspiciously at me and asking “Who referred you to us again?” several times, and me looking suspiciously at them cause...well, they represent a union; I asked what it is about long hair and carrying knives that would make someone think I would do well in their union? At that they kind of grinned, and said that most of the people in IATSE are “independent spirits” who like to build things and are creative and intelligent, if not all that social… and that when showing up to a job, it is required that you bring your own tools, and a knife is one of the required tools.
So, I decided that a union of people who “don’t play well with others” are rumored to be intelligent and are required to carry knives sounds like my kind of place! I asked if when you were a member of IATSE, you could work at non-union job sites. They said of course, and that I could work any job site I wanted that was willing to hire me, union or not. But, usually, when any major concert like U2 or so comes to town, they only hire IATSE for their stage set up stuff.
This made me happy, as it means I can continue to build stage and module stuff for Legends without having to charge them for it! Plus, even the remote chance of working on a stage and helping Rammstein set up their pyrotechnics is enough of a carrot to dangle in front of my nose!
(They have a new album coming out soon (insert happy snoopy dance) and are currently touring Europe, but hopefully they will come here to the US as well)
When I asked if my upcoming move to NH would be a problem, they said not at all… then we got into pay scales and such; and yeah, even the starting hourly wage is enough to commute from NH for! And now I know why major venue concert tickets are so expensive! So, I signed some papers. I am of course, low man on the totem pole, and so, will only get work infrequently for now… which is fine by me, as I have a steady job already
So, after that, I was feeling kind of odd… I have never, ever considered myself to be a “union man” in any way shape or form; but now I am. So, I decided to assuage my guilt in the traditional manner… by buying things. And, lo and behold, Boston Costume was mere blocks away! So, I stopped buy, and purchased several high quality fake body parts for use in the upcoming legends event (I used up all the ones I bought last time…don’t ask).
So, after that, I began to wend my way home. It was evening time (round 8ish I think), and downtown was empty of all its usual inhabitants, and the real people who actually live there were coming out. As I walked toward the T station, I noticed a dumpster full of shiny stuff (ooh! Shinys!), and so decided to investigate further.
Now, dumpster diving is a refined art… especially in this day and age, when if you are caught dumpster diving, people instantly assume you are looking for bags of personal information and such with which to commit identity theft. So, as a bona-fide scavenger, I have dived into more than a few dumpsters in my day… but usually in Cambridge or Beacon Hill, where they would rather throw out an antique candle-table or gilded picture frame than refinish it.
Chinatown is another matter altogether…dumpster diving into a dumpster that is behind a Chinese restaurant; must be a special, reserved level of hell for some really bad sinners! I can only imagine what three day old duck’s feet must look/smell like… and just because I can, doesn’t mean I want to!
But this dumpster looked much more savory… it had a lot of brass tubes, machiene parts and stuff like that sticking out of it… like someone was cleaning out an old house or factory, rather than an old fridge. So, I climbed up and looked in. There were all sorts of stainless steel parts, tubes, gears, drive chains and many other mechanical looking wonders in there. So, I climbed in and started picking through this refuse from one tiny part of our very large technical world. It was not long before my bag was full of chains, gears, old saw blades, un-identified but cool looking pieces of lab equipment and other shiny wonders. I also held under my arms one piece which would not fit in my bag… a very cool two chambered stainless-steel pump of some sort. As I looked at this pump, with two large Pyrex jars attached… one of which was broken, it dawned on me that I had seen a pump like this before.
I quickly climbed out of the dumpster and looked around for signs, and sure enough… I was diving in a dumpster that was directly behind a funeral home! The pump I was holding under my arm was the kind they use to push blood out of a cadaver while pumping the embalming fluid in. I just stood there for a second, while the great cosmic irony that had me dumpster diving behind a funeral home while having a bag full of fake body parts sank in on me. It was all I could do to avoid collapsing in a giggle-fit then and there.
So, figuring I had pressed my luck enough for one day by dumpster diving behind a funeral home, I continued on my way to the T stop. Once I got to the Park St. T, I paid my fare and was waiting on the platform just like everyone else… when a dog attached its nose to my leg.
Now, those of you who have not had dogs may not believe this, but the strongest adhesive in the world is created by dogs. It is secreted from their nose when they find something they want to smell. This wondrous substance is called Dog Nose Glue, and as any dog owner knows, any attempt to get a dog to move once it has secreted DNG is futile. So, there I was… minding my own business on the T platform, when this dog comes up and attaches its nose to my leg with Dog Nose Glue.
Upon noticing this, I look down, and see a yellow lab, eyes rolled up at me, smiling at me with big brown eyes and happily wagging its tail while its nose is firmly attached to my pant leg. I look further, and discern that this good looking dog has a leash, attached to a harness and that that leash, is held in the hand of a huge and very stern looking police officer. So, when faced with the amazing and ludicrous, I do the only things that can be done really… I smile and nod.
The police officer smiles at me and nods back… and his dog continues to try to inhale my pant leg. It then dawns on me, that I am wearing my NATO cargo pants, which is the pair I use for fire spinning as they are all cotton (synthetic fibers are bad for fire spinning, as they don’t so much catch fire, as melt). So, I look down at the dog again, who has obviously attached himself to my pant leg with Dog Nose Glue; I then look at the Stern Police Officer and say... “So, is he/she an accelerant dog?”
The SPO stops scanning the crowd, looks at me and says “nope, she failed that; she’s being trained as a bomb sniffer now.”
I look down at the dog, the dog looks up at me, and nose still attached with DNG to my pants, with big happy brown eyes, continues wagging her tail. I grin, knowing that bomb dogs are trained to lie down and go silent when they detect a bomb, less their barking cause it to go off, and this dog was not laying down.
“She must smell my dogs.” I said. The police officer did not respond.
So, I smile at the bomb sniffing dog, and the bomb sniffing dog smiles at me while attached to my pants with DNG, and the SPO begins to not smile, but glare at me… And all the while I’m thinking of possible explanations I could give to the SPO about why my pants have accelerant and/or explosive residue on them and I have a cadaver pump under my arm and fake body parts and such in my shoulder bag… when a very attractive woman with a breathy voice walks up to us and says. “Do you want to be saved?”
Both me and the SPO look at her, and notice she is holding a bible under her arm. I sigh and say something like”No, thank you though.” She looks to the police officer who says “I think I’m as saved as I’m ever going to be.” This woman says “Ok,” and then launches into this long story about how the second coming is coming, and how people’s spirits are going to be freed and even now they are coming lose. This bible toting woman starts telling us she was attacked by a spirit just a few hours ago… this spirit leapt right out of this woman’s chest and attacked her but luckily she was protected because she had been eating pages of the bible. Then this woman opens her bible, tears a hunk off one of the pages and eats it, right there in front of us! She then tore another hunk off the page and offered it to me, and then the SPO, and then she offered it to the bomb-sniffing dog, whose nose was still attached to my pant leg. Both the police officer and I politely refused, but when she offered the bible page to the dog, the police officer said he was going to have to ask her not to do that. The bomb-sniffing dog showed little or no interest in the bible page doggy treat.
And the really odd thing was… this woman looked completely normal. She was well dressed, had put on make up with some skill, had showered and brushed her hair…and even though her subject matter was bizarre, she was chatting about it as if she were trying to sell us Mary Kay cosmetics or something, not talking about people’s spirits coming lose and attacking her while munching down pages of a book. Next to her, I felt completely normal.
Fortunately, the whole situation was kept from escalating by the arrival of the train. The bomb-sniffing dog released his nose’s DNG enhanced hold on my leg and I boarded the train. As I did so, I smiled and nodded to the police officer as a way of saying “Good luck,” because I noticed the bible toting woman was staying behind and continuing to talk at him. He did not smile back at me.
After that, my trip home was pretty uneventful… I packed my shiny new treasures away in boxes, and then, still feeling odd about the whole union thing, watched the movie Matewan to remind myself of why unions can be a good thing.
Since the pet store I work at is only 2 blocks away from a methadone clinic, we get our share of strange (and not in a good way) people, both men and women. Usually they are harmless… they get their methadone, and then don’t know what to do with themselves and so come into our store and either talk a lot, or front all our shelves for us, pick up every little bit of paper on the floor, etc. etc. We have one lady who comes in and regularly separates our male from our female bettas, which is odd, but harmless.
But this lady, the one who asked me out, is not strange in that way. She is middle-aged, comes into the store infrequently, and buys all the most expensive/rare African cichlids we have when she does. She has something like 20-30 fish tanks at her home, which is a great new take on the “crazy cat lady” routine. So to her, I said “OK”.
So, we were drinking our drinks and chatting about fish and other such things and there was a television going in the corner of the bar. A news story came on about additional charges being pressed in the Rhode Island Nightclub Fire case. I of course, expressed my opinion about the people responsible for setting up the pyrotechnics in that fiasco. I don’t care if the sound proofing was up to code or not really, the sparks from a pyro device should NEVER hit any part of the stage back drop, period! Whoever set those gerbs up should be held responsible… end of story.
So, once I got done with that particular rant of mine, this woman looked at me and said “Are you Yahtzee?” I was silent for a minute, trying to figure out what she was asking me.
“You mean do I play Yahtzee?” I asked her. She said “no, was I a member of the local Yahtzee union.” More long silences ensued while I tried to figure out if she was asking me to go to an S&M party or a gaming geek party, or what.
So, to make a long and confusing conversation short, this woman told me her boyfriend is the drummer for a band. (I knew she had a boyfriend when she asked me out… it wasn’t THAT kind of a date.)
She then told me that because I knew about stage pyrotechnics, had long hair and carried a knife, she thought I might be a member of the union that sets up shows for bands and such, which is the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees, Moving Picture Technicians, Artists and Allied Crafts of the United States and Canada …or; IATSEMPTAACUSC, or shortened is IATSE, which when pronounced, sounds like Yahtzee. I told her no, I wasn’t, and she said I should look into it, because I looked and sounded like the type of person that would do well in IATSE. Funny, but the description of “Doesn’t play well with others” which has often been applied to me, does not make me instantly think I’d be a good fit for a group of people… any group of people. We finished our drinks, chatted for a bit about fish and stage stuff, and then went our respective ways.
Now, I have always had a mixed opinion of unions; some are good, some are bad… just like any tool, it’s all in what you use it for. Saws for instance, can be used to cut a victim out of flood wreckage, or to dismember a body in an attempt to cover a crime…same tool, different intent. I think Sports unions are bad… it is because of them you end up with grossly overpaid athletes who cannot be fired or let go; due to an “unseemly behavior” clause in their contract; which basically states that you can’t drop them from the team for acting like a complete asshat. Then again, if Wal-Mart hates and fears unions so much, the unions have to be doing something right!
So, the next day, I did some research on IATSE, found nothing completely horrid, so decided to give them a look-see. I called, made an appointment and went down to talk to them. Their offices are in Chinatown… when I called to ask them the location of their office; they asked me if I knew where Boston Costume was, and when I said yes, I was practically on a first name basis with those folks… they gave me directions from there. I was happy to see that the IATSE offices are in a run down building behind a statue of Confucius. My union dues would not be going to pay rent on a swanky over/priced office condo; or even a functioning coffee maker, more’s the pity.
So, after chatting for a while; with them looking suspiciously at me and asking “Who referred you to us again?” several times, and me looking suspiciously at them cause...well, they represent a union; I asked what it is about long hair and carrying knives that would make someone think I would do well in their union? At that they kind of grinned, and said that most of the people in IATSE are “independent spirits” who like to build things and are creative and intelligent, if not all that social… and that when showing up to a job, it is required that you bring your own tools, and a knife is one of the required tools.
So, I decided that a union of people who “don’t play well with others” are rumored to be intelligent and are required to carry knives sounds like my kind of place! I asked if when you were a member of IATSE, you could work at non-union job sites. They said of course, and that I could work any job site I wanted that was willing to hire me, union or not. But, usually, when any major concert like U2 or so comes to town, they only hire IATSE for their stage set up stuff.
This made me happy, as it means I can continue to build stage and module stuff for Legends without having to charge them for it! Plus, even the remote chance of working on a stage and helping Rammstein set up their pyrotechnics is enough of a carrot to dangle in front of my nose!
(They have a new album coming out soon (insert happy snoopy dance) and are currently touring Europe, but hopefully they will come here to the US as well)
When I asked if my upcoming move to NH would be a problem, they said not at all… then we got into pay scales and such; and yeah, even the starting hourly wage is enough to commute from NH for! And now I know why major venue concert tickets are so expensive! So, I signed some papers. I am of course, low man on the totem pole, and so, will only get work infrequently for now… which is fine by me, as I have a steady job already
So, after that, I was feeling kind of odd… I have never, ever considered myself to be a “union man” in any way shape or form; but now I am. So, I decided to assuage my guilt in the traditional manner… by buying things. And, lo and behold, Boston Costume was mere blocks away! So, I stopped buy, and purchased several high quality fake body parts for use in the upcoming legends event (I used up all the ones I bought last time…don’t ask).
So, after that, I began to wend my way home. It was evening time (round 8ish I think), and downtown was empty of all its usual inhabitants, and the real people who actually live there were coming out. As I walked toward the T station, I noticed a dumpster full of shiny stuff (ooh! Shinys!), and so decided to investigate further.
Now, dumpster diving is a refined art… especially in this day and age, when if you are caught dumpster diving, people instantly assume you are looking for bags of personal information and such with which to commit identity theft. So, as a bona-fide scavenger, I have dived into more than a few dumpsters in my day… but usually in Cambridge or Beacon Hill, where they would rather throw out an antique candle-table or gilded picture frame than refinish it.
Chinatown is another matter altogether…dumpster diving into a dumpster that is behind a Chinese restaurant; must be a special, reserved level of hell for some really bad sinners! I can only imagine what three day old duck’s feet must look/smell like… and just because I can, doesn’t mean I want to!
But this dumpster looked much more savory… it had a lot of brass tubes, machiene parts and stuff like that sticking out of it… like someone was cleaning out an old house or factory, rather than an old fridge. So, I climbed up and looked in. There were all sorts of stainless steel parts, tubes, gears, drive chains and many other mechanical looking wonders in there. So, I climbed in and started picking through this refuse from one tiny part of our very large technical world. It was not long before my bag was full of chains, gears, old saw blades, un-identified but cool looking pieces of lab equipment and other shiny wonders. I also held under my arms one piece which would not fit in my bag… a very cool two chambered stainless-steel pump of some sort. As I looked at this pump, with two large Pyrex jars attached… one of which was broken, it dawned on me that I had seen a pump like this before.
I quickly climbed out of the dumpster and looked around for signs, and sure enough… I was diving in a dumpster that was directly behind a funeral home! The pump I was holding under my arm was the kind they use to push blood out of a cadaver while pumping the embalming fluid in. I just stood there for a second, while the great cosmic irony that had me dumpster diving behind a funeral home while having a bag full of fake body parts sank in on me. It was all I could do to avoid collapsing in a giggle-fit then and there.
So, figuring I had pressed my luck enough for one day by dumpster diving behind a funeral home, I continued on my way to the T stop. Once I got to the Park St. T, I paid my fare and was waiting on the platform just like everyone else… when a dog attached its nose to my leg.
Now, those of you who have not had dogs may not believe this, but the strongest adhesive in the world is created by dogs. It is secreted from their nose when they find something they want to smell. This wondrous substance is called Dog Nose Glue, and as any dog owner knows, any attempt to get a dog to move once it has secreted DNG is futile. So, there I was… minding my own business on the T platform, when this dog comes up and attaches its nose to my leg with Dog Nose Glue.
Upon noticing this, I look down, and see a yellow lab, eyes rolled up at me, smiling at me with big brown eyes and happily wagging its tail while its nose is firmly attached to my pant leg. I look further, and discern that this good looking dog has a leash, attached to a harness and that that leash, is held in the hand of a huge and very stern looking police officer. So, when faced with the amazing and ludicrous, I do the only things that can be done really… I smile and nod.
The police officer smiles at me and nods back… and his dog continues to try to inhale my pant leg. It then dawns on me, that I am wearing my NATO cargo pants, which is the pair I use for fire spinning as they are all cotton (synthetic fibers are bad for fire spinning, as they don’t so much catch fire, as melt). So, I look down at the dog again, who has obviously attached himself to my pant leg with Dog Nose Glue; I then look at the Stern Police Officer and say... “So, is he/she an accelerant dog?”
The SPO stops scanning the crowd, looks at me and says “nope, she failed that; she’s being trained as a bomb sniffer now.”
I look down at the dog, the dog looks up at me, and nose still attached with DNG to my pants, with big happy brown eyes, continues wagging her tail. I grin, knowing that bomb dogs are trained to lie down and go silent when they detect a bomb, less their barking cause it to go off, and this dog was not laying down.
“She must smell my dogs.” I said. The police officer did not respond.
So, I smile at the bomb sniffing dog, and the bomb sniffing dog smiles at me while attached to my pants with DNG, and the SPO begins to not smile, but glare at me… And all the while I’m thinking of possible explanations I could give to the SPO about why my pants have accelerant and/or explosive residue on them and I have a cadaver pump under my arm and fake body parts and such in my shoulder bag… when a very attractive woman with a breathy voice walks up to us and says. “Do you want to be saved?”
Both me and the SPO look at her, and notice she is holding a bible under her arm. I sigh and say something like”No, thank you though.” She looks to the police officer who says “I think I’m as saved as I’m ever going to be.” This woman says “Ok,” and then launches into this long story about how the second coming is coming, and how people’s spirits are going to be freed and even now they are coming lose. This bible toting woman starts telling us she was attacked by a spirit just a few hours ago… this spirit leapt right out of this woman’s chest and attacked her but luckily she was protected because she had been eating pages of the bible. Then this woman opens her bible, tears a hunk off one of the pages and eats it, right there in front of us! She then tore another hunk off the page and offered it to me, and then the SPO, and then she offered it to the bomb-sniffing dog, whose nose was still attached to my pant leg. Both the police officer and I politely refused, but when she offered the bible page to the dog, the police officer said he was going to have to ask her not to do that. The bomb-sniffing dog showed little or no interest in the bible page doggy treat.
And the really odd thing was… this woman looked completely normal. She was well dressed, had put on make up with some skill, had showered and brushed her hair…and even though her subject matter was bizarre, she was chatting about it as if she were trying to sell us Mary Kay cosmetics or something, not talking about people’s spirits coming lose and attacking her while munching down pages of a book. Next to her, I felt completely normal.
Fortunately, the whole situation was kept from escalating by the arrival of the train. The bomb-sniffing dog released his nose’s DNG enhanced hold on my leg and I boarded the train. As I did so, I smiled and nodded to the police officer as a way of saying “Good luck,” because I noticed the bible toting woman was staying behind and continuing to talk at him. He did not smile back at me.
After that, my trip home was pretty uneventful… I packed my shiny new treasures away in boxes, and then, still feeling odd about the whole union thing, watched the movie Matewan to remind myself of why unions can be a good thing.