Bonnaroozle Bamboozled.
Initially I was meant to head to Bonnaroo for work. Fortune played in my favor & I was able to go for fun instead.
Last festival I worked was South by South West in Austin, Texas. I got to interview a ton of bands, which was exceptional, yes. But, think of this. Bring a dedicatedly obsessed music fan to SXSW and then tell her not to see any of the shows she wants because she has to work interviewing other artists. It's a tough catch. It's a good gig, don't get me wrong-- but Bonnaroo was a nicer treat. This time, I got access to all the VIP lounges, interview spaces, air conditioned studios, artist back-stage areas, VIP camping but without ever having to think about content creation or execution or metrics or any other catch phrase that applies to business.
We flew in on Wednesday. I flew in to Nashville around 5pm, picked up our rental car & headed for the hotel. Claire came in around 11. We had a chance to have our last good shower & solid sleep of the trip. The next morning we headed down to Manchester so we could pick up our Media & Guest passes. We got our pick of camping, located in Guest Camping right behind the main stage. We didn't even realize how fortuitous this really is, being in Guest camping. If we want to go back to the campsite in between someone's set- we can. If you are in general camping, you can't. Your camp site is about 50 miles in the opposite direction. I managed to set the tent up solo (something I had a bit of practice trying when Goose and I went camping through California and Oregon.)
We managed to see quite a few bands while there. The most memorable was Joshua James. That kid can wail. He plays as if he is being sentenced to death row and he must beg his life with a song. Every single song was so emotionally saturated, sexy, twisted, sad, angry. It was so raw and captivating, both Claire and I felt like we had been wrung out by the end of it. I have video that I will post later.
Wednesday in Manchester, as with much of the rest of that area of TN, was drenched & riddled with lightning storms. This was epically beautiful, but did cause quite a bit of mud in the campground. We managed it for the most part. Friday came and we had no choice but to go hunt out some boots that would better accommodate us. And thus begins the moral dilemma of 'should I go to Wal-Mart to buy wellington boots so I can have a small piece of sanity' or should I stick it out?'
Well, it wasn't just the shoes. Every morning we were being baked out of our tent at 7am because we had no tarp to cover us and deflect the heat. So now it's shoes, tarp...oh our new neighbor friends want us to pick up another chair. Of course we can, we all sit around at night drinking beers and laughing at hilarious stories. Tarp, shoes, chair. Better get some ice- our ice chest is full of water. Tarp, shoes, chair, ice. I can't take all this festival food, I am dying for some veg, fruit, hummus. OK, Wal-Mart it is.
When we pulled in to our spot on Thursday morning, we set up next to a group of guys from NYC. They had rented an RV in New Jersey and spent the next 20 hours driving down to TN. Our fortune of being stationed next to them may be my most favorite of the entire trip. It allowed Claire and I the opportunity to file into a huge group, to never be at a loss for words & to consistently laugh. I wish they drove from California. I wanted to adopt them all.
And the trip starts off all sunshine and butterflies and unicorn dust. For the most part it was all pixie dreams, yes. But then there is the heat factor & the people factor. Now, I am not a huge fan of crowds to begin with. I deal with large concerts because I know the amount of rubbing up against someone is fairly limited. Plus, I get to go home and nuzzle down on my couch. I don't have to smash into a pile with thousands of other wet sticky bodies and then go use the same showers those people just used. While wearing their dirty shoes. After they brush their hair in the shower, wad it into a ball and throw it on the wall of said shower.
I've been hearing I am a baby. That I can't handle camping. That is not true. I can. I camp. I love to camp. I love to camp because it means I get to go as far away from human civilization as possible. I get to hear no people talk. I get to hear no babies scream. I get to swim in a river that 90 thousand other people have not swam in. Give me camping, yes. Bonnaroo? Maybe not.
Plus, I have discovered that not only do I get uncomfortable in heat, my skin decides to have a physical protest. I broke out in the most beautiful artistic display of rashes and heat blisters. It was gorgeous. I know there is a term "sun goddess," clearly I cannot fit that description. Maybe the reason my body has these arguments with through a conflict of identity. My mother is Native American and my father is German. These two, when bred together, do not make a sun goddess. They make a heat blister.
Claire joked with Goose saying, "Thanks a lot for warning me about how chipper Tawnee is in the morning, especially right before I spend a week waking up next to her in an over heated tent with no coffee to be found." Am I really that mean in the morning? Maybe. Why don't you stop baking me out of bed at 7 in the morning when I went to bed at 6:30 and we won't have to have an issue. ;)
Miike Snow was second favorite on my list (after Joshua James). Prior to Bonnaroo, I saw them play at the Independent in SF and my mind was blown out the back of my skull. I totally rocked off my jollies at that show. I couldn't contain the dancing and the singing and the giggling. I'm glad I wasn't the only one. Seems everyone at that tent was there for a freak out.
Kid Cudi took me by surprise as well. I had heard a bunch of his stuff, but hadn't sunk myself into it properly. When he finally came on, after a 45 minute mic check of "check check, one two. check check, kid cudi, check check. check check..." (please repeat that ad nauseum, I don't feel like continuing to type it all out), you couldn't much hear him. Corey cleverly noted how ironic it was that they needed such a long mic check and then we had to struggle to hear him. Apparently Kid Cudi opened for one of their friends' shows in NYC. FAME. We touched it.
Speaking of touching fame. Claire and I got to sit in on the Creative Allies recording studio a few times. We saw Mumford & Sons play (Unbelievable, honestly. They are so effortlessly impressive. I loved every second). They're a stellar folk band from Ireland. It was nice to see a show happen in such a relaxed un-show sort of fashion. They came in, had no need to perform to the viewers, to be anything but entirely comfortable. They played a few songs, which Claire and I were able to listen to through headphones--perfectly mixed, coming from the sound control room. ACE. How can it get any better than that? It can't. It was a private show in a tiny air-conditioned trailer in the middle of Bpnnaroo. It does not get better. Don't let people tell you differently.
On the last day, Sunday, I went back to watch Calexico perform. All 8 of them in that tiny studio with all their impressive talents and instruments. It was an amazing show. We missed She & Him, Edward Sharpe, Joshua James & Phoenix. But we try to not let this slow us down. Now that I know the lay of the land, I would never miss a show there. Especially since it is not open to the public. I will not ever be able to fully express the gratitude I have to Creative Allies for welcoming Claire and myself into their area, providing us with such hospitality & royal treatment. Especially without needing or asking anything in return. They knew I was just there as a person who, when we are back at home, works with them. For me, I felt as if I had won the golden ticket.
People there were generally wonderful. We met a lot of interesting cats. A lot of people I would never want to meet again. Like, say for instance the guy in Wal-Mart who grabbed onto me and told me I was purdy. And when I told him "I did not give you permission to touch me" decided that meant to follow me around the store. If only for a few isles, it was still irritating. Also, seriously guy in the rascal assist scooter, you're going to tell me " You should have grabbed a cart!" when I have my hands full of stuff I can clearly carry. My response, "I am a fully functional human being."
I think, maybe, I am an ass hole? They started it.
Did I have fun, yes. Do I think Jay-Z is the best thing to happen to the world? No. His songs are great, I love his business mind. His songs make me feel no emotion. I like feeling like death is coming. Jay-Z just makes me think about how arrogant he seems. I guess arrogance happens at every level though, I don't have a fashion line and I can still sling around arrogant banter with the best of them. Plus, I can't stand one single thing about Beyonce, put the two together- no. Sign me out. I'll be over at the small solar stage watching some band no one has ever heard of, having the time of my life.
The Silent Disco may have been the best part of all, especially when you factor in all the people so faded out of their skulls, their nose is leaking brain. It breaks my heart to see their faces sliding off, but it is pretty funny to see a chick with bunny ears on dance like she is in the fourth battalion in her little acid trip k-hole. The NYC boys went back 4 hours later and said she was laid out on the ground, completely naked waving her legs open and closed. Apparently she was obstructing the walk way so the people working the disco picked her up and moved her to a corner. Handed her a glow stick for fun. HA! The glory of it all! And that. is. Bonnaroo.
When it was finally all over (Finally!!) I swore I would never again step foot at Bonnaroo, only to second guess myself when everyone called out "MEET BACK HERE NEXT YEAR?!" Maybe, I will need to check the weather report in advance.
In the midst of my desperation & "save me from the world" texts to Goose, I asked that he book us a hotel on Sunday so Claire and I could finally get a good night's sleep and a shower. I couldn't fathom sitting on a plane for 5 hours in the degree of filth I had collected from the past few days. He agreed and it was all set. I was practically skipping the entire time I was driving our Prius out of that campground. REJOICE! REJOICE! Pillows! Soap! Silence!
No. All those dreams and desires were ill fitted for Tennessee. For fucking Antioch, Tennessee. Tennessee people apparently rate a crack den as a four star on Expedia. (Don't call me mean people from TN, I do not rate your hotels). Most disgusting, filthy hotel I have ever stayed in. When we opened the room door, there was a blue 'o-zone' machine stacked on top of a sideways trash can. It was put there with the intent to clean the room of the stench that inhabited the space prior to our arrival. Was it plugged in? Yes. Did it still smell? Yes.
Let's set our bags here on these plastic comforters. That looks like the best spot for them, as the floor is dirtier than our muddier campground. Hold on, after I finish having this panic attack, I'd like to take a shower. Oh, there's mold all over the shower? There's no shower curtain to hold you in? Right. OK, well, after I have this second panic attack here, I will phone down and ask them why there is an ozone machine & lack of shower curtain in our room.
Now... how do I go about touching this phone (wet nap/tissue/hold away from self)
Me: Hi, uh... are we supposed to have a shower curtain?
Hotel Lady: Oh! We will bring one up to you. 203?
Me: 207. Also, there is a blue smell machine here too. Do you want that?
HL: Yes, we will get that too. We were doing a deep cleaning of all the rooms.
Me: hm. (thinking IRONY)
Deep cleaning? Don't pee on my leg and tell me it's raining. Tell me that you allow bums in here to suck crack out through a rusty pipe and murder hookers. Are they under the bed? Could be. The bed frames are made of a coffin like assembly of hacked together plywood and screws. The box spring is undressed & covered in stains. It was so rickety it looked as if they had the concept to beat the stains out with a bat. The mattress was an old coil spring mattress. Squeeeky, unpadded, horrific coil spring mattress. Good thing there is so much road noise coming through the gaps around the doors and windows, it will keep me from falling asleep and risking contracting some disease.
A not-so-restful night of sleep later, we are off to the airport again. Claire's flight leaves at 12:40, mine at 1:55. We drop of Prius & head to SW terminal, drop off our checked luggage then it's off to security. Once we are through the line, lickety-split, I realize I don't have my phone. I have two phones: blackberry work phone, iPhone for personal. Claire and I sit down so I can completely dissect my carry on gear. No sign. We hug and part ways. I head back down to the rental place. There is no sign of the phone. They send their guys out to check on it and return empty handed. They understand my longing face & take me up there to do it myself (I will never believe them if they don't. haha) I check out Southwest check in, SW lost and found, Airport lost and found (three of them), Security. Nada. No sign. Defeat. My Blackberry is loosing charge, I doubt it will make the flight. I stop into the airport electronics shop to buy a charger. I am greeted by a vibrantly pale man with neon red hair, natural.
me: "do you sell chargers here for Blackberry's"
him: "what's your name"
me: (thinking it will be entered into the system?) Tawnee
him: we don't sell to people named Tawnee
me: you're not loosing much business, there might be three of us.
I look at his name badge... "plus, I don't buy from Howards"
25 dollars later, I am a blackberry charger richer and no I do not live here/come here often/will be around when you get off work.
AH finally, a semi comfortable airport seat. What's this? A free outlet! What luck! I plug in, tether myself to the wall and start texting away.
"Nice shoes" guy says to my flame covered chuck taylors
me: thanks
him: you live here or there?
me: there, just came for bonnaroo
him: yeah I came for CMA, I live in LA. you live in Oakland
me: San Francisco
him: I hate San Francisco
me: WHAT?!
him: hate it. ugliest city I have ever seen in my entire life. worse than Detroit.
me: clearly you have never seen SF or Detroit. wherrrreeeee were you in SF? (still exhibiting an electric ferocious look of shock and disgust)
him: I went to see a football game there.
me: IN DAILY CITY/SOUTH SAN FRANCISCO
him: SF, yeah.
me: you did not see SF. that or you are off your skull.
Now if I had the wherewithall to fast forward myself 30 minutes in time, I would be able to identify the look of sheer terror on my face. The look I imagine victims of serial killers have on their face right before their brains are bludgeoned out their ears with a quick blow of a bat.
Next he would tell me about all the concerts (311, Kid Rock --really, how soon can we be best friends?) he goes to and then makes out/fucks girls. NOT particularly the type of conversations respectable adults have within 10 minutes of meeting each other. He also said he met a girl he went up and talked to who had red hair (his favorite) and reminded him EXACTLY of his red haired friend that he desperately wants to hook up with. Well now, he and this ginger are hooking up-what luck right, two birds! Turns out make out red and her bf just broke up. He cheated on her. Weeks later guy hears from his friend red that she hooked up with make out red's bf. WHAT COSMIC FORCE! WHAT A STORY! Let's tell it to any person who will listen. I know, let's start in the airport.
I tell him I am not paying attention to him and direct myself to a "Crisis" i have on my phone. Crisis being me FURIOUSLY texting everyone I can telling them the play by play of this insanity.
him: do you know Los Angeles
me: (with the evil snide look only women can truly procure) is that supposed to be a band name or are you referring to the MASSIVE metropolitan area that is LOS ANGELES, located in the state of California where I presently live?
him: the city
me: yes, I know it.
Had my BB not be tethering me to the wall, I would have ran to save myself. Or would I. That is my bench. I was there first. I am sane. I win. You take your crazy self somewhere else. Maybe next time you try to kill a girl in an airplane terminal you will think to wear the rest of your shirt. That muscle shirt you are wearing is only showing the stretch marks on your fat floppy body.
Thank god he was flying stand-by and the flight was full. I know, I asked as soon as I saw someone from SW. I sat myself between two big old business guys just in case. Neither of which ever even hinted at anything inappropriate. Bless you man from Maryland and man from Nashville.
When I landed, I turned on my blackberry and there was a text from Claire:
"Remember the day you decided not to hate me and still love me with all your heart when you found out I must have accidentally put your cell phone in my purse? :::puppy dog eyes of shame::::"
Of course I forgive you. That iPhone never gets reception in SF anyhow. It's just as useful to me in Arizona.
Goose, the saint of a man that he is, had dinner ready for me. RAW food! Bloomed wild rice filled to the brim with tons of fresh veggies and fruit. There was a bottle of champagne and a two hour bath. Bless the world for him. He is my saint. How could anyone be set down on this earth to love me as much as him. LOTTERY. and I won. I spent a solid hour attached to the front of him like a turned around back-pack. He did not mind or complain, just kissed me and caressed my hair and asked me if there was anything else he could do for me.
Love me for the rest of my days? deal.
Last festival I worked was South by South West in Austin, Texas. I got to interview a ton of bands, which was exceptional, yes. But, think of this. Bring a dedicatedly obsessed music fan to SXSW and then tell her not to see any of the shows she wants because she has to work interviewing other artists. It's a tough catch. It's a good gig, don't get me wrong-- but Bonnaroo was a nicer treat. This time, I got access to all the VIP lounges, interview spaces, air conditioned studios, artist back-stage areas, VIP camping but without ever having to think about content creation or execution or metrics or any other catch phrase that applies to business.
We flew in on Wednesday. I flew in to Nashville around 5pm, picked up our rental car & headed for the hotel. Claire came in around 11. We had a chance to have our last good shower & solid sleep of the trip. The next morning we headed down to Manchester so we could pick up our Media & Guest passes. We got our pick of camping, located in Guest Camping right behind the main stage. We didn't even realize how fortuitous this really is, being in Guest camping. If we want to go back to the campsite in between someone's set- we can. If you are in general camping, you can't. Your camp site is about 50 miles in the opposite direction. I managed to set the tent up solo (something I had a bit of practice trying when Goose and I went camping through California and Oregon.)
We managed to see quite a few bands while there. The most memorable was Joshua James. That kid can wail. He plays as if he is being sentenced to death row and he must beg his life with a song. Every single song was so emotionally saturated, sexy, twisted, sad, angry. It was so raw and captivating, both Claire and I felt like we had been wrung out by the end of it. I have video that I will post later.
Wednesday in Manchester, as with much of the rest of that area of TN, was drenched & riddled with lightning storms. This was epically beautiful, but did cause quite a bit of mud in the campground. We managed it for the most part. Friday came and we had no choice but to go hunt out some boots that would better accommodate us. And thus begins the moral dilemma of 'should I go to Wal-Mart to buy wellington boots so I can have a small piece of sanity' or should I stick it out?'
Well, it wasn't just the shoes. Every morning we were being baked out of our tent at 7am because we had no tarp to cover us and deflect the heat. So now it's shoes, tarp...oh our new neighbor friends want us to pick up another chair. Of course we can, we all sit around at night drinking beers and laughing at hilarious stories. Tarp, shoes, chair. Better get some ice- our ice chest is full of water. Tarp, shoes, chair, ice. I can't take all this festival food, I am dying for some veg, fruit, hummus. OK, Wal-Mart it is.
When we pulled in to our spot on Thursday morning, we set up next to a group of guys from NYC. They had rented an RV in New Jersey and spent the next 20 hours driving down to TN. Our fortune of being stationed next to them may be my most favorite of the entire trip. It allowed Claire and I the opportunity to file into a huge group, to never be at a loss for words & to consistently laugh. I wish they drove from California. I wanted to adopt them all.
And the trip starts off all sunshine and butterflies and unicorn dust. For the most part it was all pixie dreams, yes. But then there is the heat factor & the people factor. Now, I am not a huge fan of crowds to begin with. I deal with large concerts because I know the amount of rubbing up against someone is fairly limited. Plus, I get to go home and nuzzle down on my couch. I don't have to smash into a pile with thousands of other wet sticky bodies and then go use the same showers those people just used. While wearing their dirty shoes. After they brush their hair in the shower, wad it into a ball and throw it on the wall of said shower.
I've been hearing I am a baby. That I can't handle camping. That is not true. I can. I camp. I love to camp. I love to camp because it means I get to go as far away from human civilization as possible. I get to hear no people talk. I get to hear no babies scream. I get to swim in a river that 90 thousand other people have not swam in. Give me camping, yes. Bonnaroo? Maybe not.
Plus, I have discovered that not only do I get uncomfortable in heat, my skin decides to have a physical protest. I broke out in the most beautiful artistic display of rashes and heat blisters. It was gorgeous. I know there is a term "sun goddess," clearly I cannot fit that description. Maybe the reason my body has these arguments with through a conflict of identity. My mother is Native American and my father is German. These two, when bred together, do not make a sun goddess. They make a heat blister.
Claire joked with Goose saying, "Thanks a lot for warning me about how chipper Tawnee is in the morning, especially right before I spend a week waking up next to her in an over heated tent with no coffee to be found." Am I really that mean in the morning? Maybe. Why don't you stop baking me out of bed at 7 in the morning when I went to bed at 6:30 and we won't have to have an issue. ;)
Miike Snow was second favorite on my list (after Joshua James). Prior to Bonnaroo, I saw them play at the Independent in SF and my mind was blown out the back of my skull. I totally rocked off my jollies at that show. I couldn't contain the dancing and the singing and the giggling. I'm glad I wasn't the only one. Seems everyone at that tent was there for a freak out.
Kid Cudi took me by surprise as well. I had heard a bunch of his stuff, but hadn't sunk myself into it properly. When he finally came on, after a 45 minute mic check of "check check, one two. check check, kid cudi, check check. check check..." (please repeat that ad nauseum, I don't feel like continuing to type it all out), you couldn't much hear him. Corey cleverly noted how ironic it was that they needed such a long mic check and then we had to struggle to hear him. Apparently Kid Cudi opened for one of their friends' shows in NYC. FAME. We touched it.
Speaking of touching fame. Claire and I got to sit in on the Creative Allies recording studio a few times. We saw Mumford & Sons play (Unbelievable, honestly. They are so effortlessly impressive. I loved every second). They're a stellar folk band from Ireland. It was nice to see a show happen in such a relaxed un-show sort of fashion. They came in, had no need to perform to the viewers, to be anything but entirely comfortable. They played a few songs, which Claire and I were able to listen to through headphones--perfectly mixed, coming from the sound control room. ACE. How can it get any better than that? It can't. It was a private show in a tiny air-conditioned trailer in the middle of Bpnnaroo. It does not get better. Don't let people tell you differently.
On the last day, Sunday, I went back to watch Calexico perform. All 8 of them in that tiny studio with all their impressive talents and instruments. It was an amazing show. We missed She & Him, Edward Sharpe, Joshua James & Phoenix. But we try to not let this slow us down. Now that I know the lay of the land, I would never miss a show there. Especially since it is not open to the public. I will not ever be able to fully express the gratitude I have to Creative Allies for welcoming Claire and myself into their area, providing us with such hospitality & royal treatment. Especially without needing or asking anything in return. They knew I was just there as a person who, when we are back at home, works with them. For me, I felt as if I had won the golden ticket.
People there were generally wonderful. We met a lot of interesting cats. A lot of people I would never want to meet again. Like, say for instance the guy in Wal-Mart who grabbed onto me and told me I was purdy. And when I told him "I did not give you permission to touch me" decided that meant to follow me around the store. If only for a few isles, it was still irritating. Also, seriously guy in the rascal assist scooter, you're going to tell me " You should have grabbed a cart!" when I have my hands full of stuff I can clearly carry. My response, "I am a fully functional human being."
I think, maybe, I am an ass hole? They started it.
Did I have fun, yes. Do I think Jay-Z is the best thing to happen to the world? No. His songs are great, I love his business mind. His songs make me feel no emotion. I like feeling like death is coming. Jay-Z just makes me think about how arrogant he seems. I guess arrogance happens at every level though, I don't have a fashion line and I can still sling around arrogant banter with the best of them. Plus, I can't stand one single thing about Beyonce, put the two together- no. Sign me out. I'll be over at the small solar stage watching some band no one has ever heard of, having the time of my life.
The Silent Disco may have been the best part of all, especially when you factor in all the people so faded out of their skulls, their nose is leaking brain. It breaks my heart to see their faces sliding off, but it is pretty funny to see a chick with bunny ears on dance like she is in the fourth battalion in her little acid trip k-hole. The NYC boys went back 4 hours later and said she was laid out on the ground, completely naked waving her legs open and closed. Apparently she was obstructing the walk way so the people working the disco picked her up and moved her to a corner. Handed her a glow stick for fun. HA! The glory of it all! And that. is. Bonnaroo.
When it was finally all over (Finally!!) I swore I would never again step foot at Bonnaroo, only to second guess myself when everyone called out "MEET BACK HERE NEXT YEAR?!" Maybe, I will need to check the weather report in advance.
In the midst of my desperation & "save me from the world" texts to Goose, I asked that he book us a hotel on Sunday so Claire and I could finally get a good night's sleep and a shower. I couldn't fathom sitting on a plane for 5 hours in the degree of filth I had collected from the past few days. He agreed and it was all set. I was practically skipping the entire time I was driving our Prius out of that campground. REJOICE! REJOICE! Pillows! Soap! Silence!
No. All those dreams and desires were ill fitted for Tennessee. For fucking Antioch, Tennessee. Tennessee people apparently rate a crack den as a four star on Expedia. (Don't call me mean people from TN, I do not rate your hotels). Most disgusting, filthy hotel I have ever stayed in. When we opened the room door, there was a blue 'o-zone' machine stacked on top of a sideways trash can. It was put there with the intent to clean the room of the stench that inhabited the space prior to our arrival. Was it plugged in? Yes. Did it still smell? Yes.
Let's set our bags here on these plastic comforters. That looks like the best spot for them, as the floor is dirtier than our muddier campground. Hold on, after I finish having this panic attack, I'd like to take a shower. Oh, there's mold all over the shower? There's no shower curtain to hold you in? Right. OK, well, after I have this second panic attack here, I will phone down and ask them why there is an ozone machine & lack of shower curtain in our room.
Now... how do I go about touching this phone (wet nap/tissue/hold away from self)
Me: Hi, uh... are we supposed to have a shower curtain?
Hotel Lady: Oh! We will bring one up to you. 203?
Me: 207. Also, there is a blue smell machine here too. Do you want that?
HL: Yes, we will get that too. We were doing a deep cleaning of all the rooms.
Me: hm. (thinking IRONY)
Deep cleaning? Don't pee on my leg and tell me it's raining. Tell me that you allow bums in here to suck crack out through a rusty pipe and murder hookers. Are they under the bed? Could be. The bed frames are made of a coffin like assembly of hacked together plywood and screws. The box spring is undressed & covered in stains. It was so rickety it looked as if they had the concept to beat the stains out with a bat. The mattress was an old coil spring mattress. Squeeeky, unpadded, horrific coil spring mattress. Good thing there is so much road noise coming through the gaps around the doors and windows, it will keep me from falling asleep and risking contracting some disease.
A not-so-restful night of sleep later, we are off to the airport again. Claire's flight leaves at 12:40, mine at 1:55. We drop of Prius & head to SW terminal, drop off our checked luggage then it's off to security. Once we are through the line, lickety-split, I realize I don't have my phone. I have two phones: blackberry work phone, iPhone for personal. Claire and I sit down so I can completely dissect my carry on gear. No sign. We hug and part ways. I head back down to the rental place. There is no sign of the phone. They send their guys out to check on it and return empty handed. They understand my longing face & take me up there to do it myself (I will never believe them if they don't. haha) I check out Southwest check in, SW lost and found, Airport lost and found (three of them), Security. Nada. No sign. Defeat. My Blackberry is loosing charge, I doubt it will make the flight. I stop into the airport electronics shop to buy a charger. I am greeted by a vibrantly pale man with neon red hair, natural.
me: "do you sell chargers here for Blackberry's"
him: "what's your name"
me: (thinking it will be entered into the system?) Tawnee
him: we don't sell to people named Tawnee
me: you're not loosing much business, there might be three of us.
I look at his name badge... "plus, I don't buy from Howards"
25 dollars later, I am a blackberry charger richer and no I do not live here/come here often/will be around when you get off work.
AH finally, a semi comfortable airport seat. What's this? A free outlet! What luck! I plug in, tether myself to the wall and start texting away.
"Nice shoes" guy says to my flame covered chuck taylors
me: thanks
him: you live here or there?
me: there, just came for bonnaroo
him: yeah I came for CMA, I live in LA. you live in Oakland
me: San Francisco
him: I hate San Francisco
me: WHAT?!
him: hate it. ugliest city I have ever seen in my entire life. worse than Detroit.
me: clearly you have never seen SF or Detroit. wherrrreeeee were you in SF? (still exhibiting an electric ferocious look of shock and disgust)
him: I went to see a football game there.
me: IN DAILY CITY/SOUTH SAN FRANCISCO
him: SF, yeah.
me: you did not see SF. that or you are off your skull.
Now if I had the wherewithall to fast forward myself 30 minutes in time, I would be able to identify the look of sheer terror on my face. The look I imagine victims of serial killers have on their face right before their brains are bludgeoned out their ears with a quick blow of a bat.
Next he would tell me about all the concerts (311, Kid Rock --really, how soon can we be best friends?) he goes to and then makes out/fucks girls. NOT particularly the type of conversations respectable adults have within 10 minutes of meeting each other. He also said he met a girl he went up and talked to who had red hair (his favorite) and reminded him EXACTLY of his red haired friend that he desperately wants to hook up with. Well now, he and this ginger are hooking up-what luck right, two birds! Turns out make out red and her bf just broke up. He cheated on her. Weeks later guy hears from his friend red that she hooked up with make out red's bf. WHAT COSMIC FORCE! WHAT A STORY! Let's tell it to any person who will listen. I know, let's start in the airport.
I tell him I am not paying attention to him and direct myself to a "Crisis" i have on my phone. Crisis being me FURIOUSLY texting everyone I can telling them the play by play of this insanity.
him: do you know Los Angeles
me: (with the evil snide look only women can truly procure) is that supposed to be a band name or are you referring to the MASSIVE metropolitan area that is LOS ANGELES, located in the state of California where I presently live?
him: the city
me: yes, I know it.
Had my BB not be tethering me to the wall, I would have ran to save myself. Or would I. That is my bench. I was there first. I am sane. I win. You take your crazy self somewhere else. Maybe next time you try to kill a girl in an airplane terminal you will think to wear the rest of your shirt. That muscle shirt you are wearing is only showing the stretch marks on your fat floppy body.
Thank god he was flying stand-by and the flight was full. I know, I asked as soon as I saw someone from SW. I sat myself between two big old business guys just in case. Neither of which ever even hinted at anything inappropriate. Bless you man from Maryland and man from Nashville.
When I landed, I turned on my blackberry and there was a text from Claire:
"Remember the day you decided not to hate me and still love me with all your heart when you found out I must have accidentally put your cell phone in my purse? :::puppy dog eyes of shame::::"
Of course I forgive you. That iPhone never gets reception in SF anyhow. It's just as useful to me in Arizona.
Goose, the saint of a man that he is, had dinner ready for me. RAW food! Bloomed wild rice filled to the brim with tons of fresh veggies and fruit. There was a bottle of champagne and a two hour bath. Bless the world for him. He is my saint. How could anyone be set down on this earth to love me as much as him. LOTTERY. and I won. I spent a solid hour attached to the front of him like a turned around back-pack. He did not mind or complain, just kissed me and caressed my hair and asked me if there was anything else he could do for me.
Love me for the rest of my days? deal.