Adventures in Palahniukland
Or how I spent last week. (Spoiler: No matter how bleak it seems in the beginning, this story has a happy ending, not unlike "Fight Club".)
In order to fully grasp my frame of mind when seeing Chuck Palahniuk for the first time, it will be necessary rewind the tape slightly back to Tuesday of last week. I had just worked seven out of the previous eight days, I had a bladder infection that required a doctor's visit, and I also needed to stop by our old mailbox to pick up the last of our mail before the rental on it expired. The mailbox lies almost exactly half-way between our old place and our new, so I decided to stop there on the way.
I left at 12:20PM for a 1:30 appointment. I made my stop at the mailbox and still had a half-hour or more to spare to get to my doctor. I turned the wrong way off the exit in Summerlin, realized this at nineteen minutes after one, and called the doctor's office to get me directions.
The conversation went like this:
Me: I turned the wrong way, I think, please help me get to your office.
Them: What time's your appointment?
Me: 1:30
Them: Where are you?
Me: At the corner of Yin and Yang.
Them: Seeee, yeah, you're at least 15 minutes away and if you're late for your appointment, we like to have you re-schedule.
Me: But my directions were wrong and I'm doing everything I possibly can to get there on time, can't you please cut me a break?
Them: Well, we'll see what the doctor says.
I broke every traffic law on the books break-necking it to get there, made *another* wrong turn because I was nervous and got there at (drum roll, please) 1:39.
I came in and they wouldn't see me. They said that the doctor had too many other patients, had told them "no" and I would need to go to the urgent care. I told them that I would call my insurance company and get another doctor. Which I did, after spending another hour on the road because I again managed to make a wrong turn on the freeway because I was both exhausted and stressed. (As I was leaving, another patient there was screaming because they wouldn't give him codeine for his three ripped-off toenails, so I'm thinking that I made the right call all around. Remember, this office is in Summerlin, supposedly the best neighborhood in Vegas. Bullshit. Where I am now is the best neighborhood, thank god.)
I called the insurance company and they couldn't believe that the doctor had been so petty about 9 minutes. I switched to another primary care doctor and called for an appointment. While I was on the phone with the appointment guy, asking for an appointment as soon as possible, I happened to mention that the new doc's office was really close to my house (geek that I am, I was MapQuesting the address he gave me while I was on the phone). He asked, "If you're so close, can you make it by 4:00?" It was 3:42.
I made the appointment, got there on time and had fun when the doctor asked, "What can I do for you today?"
"Well," I replied with some trepidation after mentioning the bladder infection, "I've had Napien in the past for sleep and Musclelube for my back - I know you guys don't like to give those out, but could I please have a small Rx for both? Plus, I'm getting on a plane tomorrow, so is there something that you can give me to calm me down?"
The doctor looked back and said, "How 'bout a low dose of Marla's OD- that's pretty much the best out there."
My previous doctor would give me 30 Napien and say, "I expect these to last you at least 2-3 months". I expected to have to fight with her at the appointment I missed and I was only expecting about 30 of each med with no refills.
I picked up my Rx's at the pharmacy without ever seeing them on paper - he gave me mild antibiotics for the bladder infection, 30 Napien with 5 refills, 60 Marla's OD with 3 refills, and 90 Musclelube with 2 refills. All of this adds up to about a 5-year supply with the way I use them, i.e., responsibly.
I tried Marla's OD that night and whoa, dude, if that's the low dose, I'd really hate to see the high. I couldn't imagine even taking them as directed (2 per day) UNLESS I was getting on a plane. There's just something about getting on a plane when you're flying to see a movie where the main character "prays for a mid-air collision". One at night before bed has me feeling really good the next day, so I'm using them sparingly.
The chocolate-covered cherry on top of all of this? The new doc's office has my Gyno there, too, so I'll have one-stop shopping 1.2 miles from my house.
I just love having a doctor who treats me like an adult! Plus, I just seem to have better luck with male doctors, on the average - you can make your own assumptions as to why that would be.
So I got myself medicated, spent Wednesday packing and cleaning and hopped on the plane (it was late) at 12:35 Thursday morning. I slept about two of the four hours - not bad, really, considering I really can't sleep in vehicles anymore. We got in to Atlanta and the connection was on time, so we actually had a smaller layover than we thought we would. king_mob and azhriaz graciously put us up and their place is pretty close to the event, so we were able to nap for a couple of hours before heading over to the Barnes and Noble to get in line for the signing.
We saw a tye-dyed wedding dress and a puddle of urine on the sidewalk outside our window as we waited. People in line were betting on who would walk through it because they hadn't had the benefit of seeing what some of us saw - a homeless man creating it as we watched from a window above. We made a single-serving friend who was also named Mike. We discovered that Chuck was only signing "Rant", so the books we hauled across both the country and the city were so much dead weight. We waited for nearly two hours before being told that he wasn't going to sign anymore over at the Barnes and Noble, so we should head over to the theater next door.
At the theater, we were waiting for a friend, but had gotten an extra "ticket" (consisting of a color-coded index card - more on that later) for her. I volunteered to wait in line while Ron and single-serving Mike went on ahead. When Rachel got there, the girl up front took our index cards and we went in for the reading.
Chuck Palahniuk is a not a great public speaker in the classic sense of those words. You can see, looking at him, that he loves doing it and loves that so many people are there to see him, but at the same time, one can sense that he's a little bewildered that they are all there for him. He read two unpublished short stories, so that we would be "getting something that we couldn't get anywhere else". Ironically, "Love Nest", the only one whose title I can remember, was weaker than the second story, a lovely narrative about telemarketing. He handed out inflatable moose heads for those who answered trivia questions correctly and books and bridal bouquets for those who asked questions. Ron got a moose head when he correctly answered the following question, "In 'Invisible Monsters', what substance does the hormone treatment named "Premarin" stand for?"
And so, hubby and I both got to shout "Pregnant Mare Urine" at the top of our lungs - him a split second before me. Interestingly, it was one of the only questions to which we knew the answer and we were pretty much the only ones in the audience who knew it. Thank you, Molly.
After the reading, trivia and questions, Chuck again went out to sign "Rant". You remember those color-coded index cards? The ones that the girl took from us like tickets? Yeah, the colors and the numbers written on the cards were the order in which we were supposed to go to get in line. The guy running it told us it was on the "honor system". Hubby says that honesty is dead in Las Vegas, Nevada - I'd say it's pretty dead in Columbus, Ohio, too.
Our group numbered among the twenty or so who were in the theater after this announcement, because we knew that our color was supposed to be "last" in line. We were honest, and we wound up at the very end of the line as a result.
Still, we got to meet the man, get our book signed and a picture and shake his hand. And the moose head was signed already. We missed the beginning of the movie, a DVD projected on the big screen instead of a film, but big deal. We finally got to see the end in a theater. And king mob came for the movie, which was nice, too.
After the movie, we went to Hounddogs for the first good pizza we've had since...well, the last time we went to Hounddog's. We even got to hang out with king_mob at the house after that.
Friday was a lazy day (too lazy - we slept in and so we missed seeing king_mob and azhriaz much, *pout*), filled with bookstores, Chinese food and having fun hanging out with sillypixie_99. The flight back was both non-stop and uneventful except for a crying baby that was also non-stop. I spent the weekend catching up on sleep and unpacking.
So, was seeing the man worth everything that we had to go through to see him? Ron felt bad because I missed seeing him when he was here in Vegas in November - because it was a smaller crowd here, Chuck got to be a little chummier with everyone. I'll tell you, though. I don't feel cheated in the least.
From the moment he opened his mouth, the trip was worth it. No amount of silly concerns, late planes or any of life's other petty annoyances could take away from what he had to say. His stories were entertaining, even if the audience questions were on the order of, "Where do you get your ideas?" One nozzle actually had a four-part question that kept getting lamer the longer he spoke. A lynching was on the horizon just as this guy finished speaking. Still, Chuck left us all with the same message to take or leave.
One day, we'll all be dead. No matter what we do, what we say, think, feel, fear or are, we're all the same decaying organic matter as everyone else.
Not long after the trip, I learned from the History Channel that in the catacombs beneath Paris, there is a wall made from human bones and behind that wall there are estimated to be 5-6,000,000 human remains piled higgledy-piggledly. Every one of them was a person, who may or may not have been named Robert Paulson. They all had thoughts and dreams, good and bad days. And they're all dead without even a marker to remind us of who they were. But because they lived, we have something cool to wonder at and/or be creeped out by today. And that's a pretty good thing, I think. It gives we future generations something over which to ponder, doesn't it?
Death is inevitable. All we can do is try to have a few laughs first. Chuck Palahniuk gave me a few laughs on the evening of Thursday, May 17, 2007. It was worth it and would have been worth it even if our plane had crashed on the way back (that sort of thinking is why I needed some of Marla's OD before I could set foot on the airplanes).
One final note on the trip, I don't think I've ever eaten so much crap in a 48-hour period before. I had a steak sandwich for breakfast in Atlanta, coffee and a cookie during the first signing, a bite of a hot dog in the theater before the reading, a meatball sub while waiting for the second signing, pizza after the movie, Dynasty fried rice for breakfast on Friday and a Max & Erma's Erma burger before we got on the plane to come back - that's about five days' worth of food for me. I'm sure that I also ate something that night in Vegas, probably a dinner of chocolate and Hot Tamales. (You think I'm joking about that last one.) The only healthy thing I ate during that period was the fruit cup that came with the burger and even that was suspect.
I don't normally track my food that way, but god-DAMN! It was all yummy. Even the airport steak sandwich. :)
So, how am I feeling right now? Pretty damn good, actually. Happy I went, happy I'm here and even happy that I'll be fertilizing someone's lawn some day. Hey, it's good to have goals, right? (In case you can't tell from the tone of this, I'm smiling right now-moods are so hard to convey in this format...oh, wait, I have a mood button right here...)
In order to fully grasp my frame of mind when seeing Chuck Palahniuk for the first time, it will be necessary rewind the tape slightly back to Tuesday of last week. I had just worked seven out of the previous eight days, I had a bladder infection that required a doctor's visit, and I also needed to stop by our old mailbox to pick up the last of our mail before the rental on it expired. The mailbox lies almost exactly half-way between our old place and our new, so I decided to stop there on the way.
I left at 12:20PM for a 1:30 appointment. I made my stop at the mailbox and still had a half-hour or more to spare to get to my doctor. I turned the wrong way off the exit in Summerlin, realized this at nineteen minutes after one, and called the doctor's office to get me directions.
The conversation went like this:
Me: I turned the wrong way, I think, please help me get to your office.
Them: What time's your appointment?
Me: 1:30
Them: Where are you?
Me: At the corner of Yin and Yang.
Them: Seeee, yeah, you're at least 15 minutes away and if you're late for your appointment, we like to have you re-schedule.
Me: But my directions were wrong and I'm doing everything I possibly can to get there on time, can't you please cut me a break?
Them: Well, we'll see what the doctor says.
I broke every traffic law on the books break-necking it to get there, made *another* wrong turn because I was nervous and got there at (drum roll, please) 1:39.
I came in and they wouldn't see me. They said that the doctor had too many other patients, had told them "no" and I would need to go to the urgent care. I told them that I would call my insurance company and get another doctor. Which I did, after spending another hour on the road because I again managed to make a wrong turn on the freeway because I was both exhausted and stressed. (As I was leaving, another patient there was screaming because they wouldn't give him codeine for his three ripped-off toenails, so I'm thinking that I made the right call all around. Remember, this office is in Summerlin, supposedly the best neighborhood in Vegas. Bullshit. Where I am now is the best neighborhood, thank god.)
I called the insurance company and they couldn't believe that the doctor had been so petty about 9 minutes. I switched to another primary care doctor and called for an appointment. While I was on the phone with the appointment guy, asking for an appointment as soon as possible, I happened to mention that the new doc's office was really close to my house (geek that I am, I was MapQuesting the address he gave me while I was on the phone). He asked, "If you're so close, can you make it by 4:00?" It was 3:42.
I made the appointment, got there on time and had fun when the doctor asked, "What can I do for you today?"
"Well," I replied with some trepidation after mentioning the bladder infection, "I've had Napien in the past for sleep and Musclelube for my back - I know you guys don't like to give those out, but could I please have a small Rx for both? Plus, I'm getting on a plane tomorrow, so is there something that you can give me to calm me down?"
The doctor looked back and said, "How 'bout a low dose of Marla's OD- that's pretty much the best out there."
My previous doctor would give me 30 Napien and say, "I expect these to last you at least 2-3 months". I expected to have to fight with her at the appointment I missed and I was only expecting about 30 of each med with no refills.
I picked up my Rx's at the pharmacy without ever seeing them on paper - he gave me mild antibiotics for the bladder infection, 30 Napien with 5 refills, 60 Marla's OD with 3 refills, and 90 Musclelube with 2 refills. All of this adds up to about a 5-year supply with the way I use them, i.e., responsibly.
I tried Marla's OD that night and whoa, dude, if that's the low dose, I'd really hate to see the high. I couldn't imagine even taking them as directed (2 per day) UNLESS I was getting on a plane. There's just something about getting on a plane when you're flying to see a movie where the main character "prays for a mid-air collision". One at night before bed has me feeling really good the next day, so I'm using them sparingly.
The chocolate-covered cherry on top of all of this? The new doc's office has my Gyno there, too, so I'll have one-stop shopping 1.2 miles from my house.
I just love having a doctor who treats me like an adult! Plus, I just seem to have better luck with male doctors, on the average - you can make your own assumptions as to why that would be.
So I got myself medicated, spent Wednesday packing and cleaning and hopped on the plane (it was late) at 12:35 Thursday morning. I slept about two of the four hours - not bad, really, considering I really can't sleep in vehicles anymore. We got in to Atlanta and the connection was on time, so we actually had a smaller layover than we thought we would. king_mob and azhriaz graciously put us up and their place is pretty close to the event, so we were able to nap for a couple of hours before heading over to the Barnes and Noble to get in line for the signing.
We saw a tye-dyed wedding dress and a puddle of urine on the sidewalk outside our window as we waited. People in line were betting on who would walk through it because they hadn't had the benefit of seeing what some of us saw - a homeless man creating it as we watched from a window above. We made a single-serving friend who was also named Mike. We discovered that Chuck was only signing "Rant", so the books we hauled across both the country and the city were so much dead weight. We waited for nearly two hours before being told that he wasn't going to sign anymore over at the Barnes and Noble, so we should head over to the theater next door.
At the theater, we were waiting for a friend, but had gotten an extra "ticket" (consisting of a color-coded index card - more on that later) for her. I volunteered to wait in line while Ron and single-serving Mike went on ahead. When Rachel got there, the girl up front took our index cards and we went in for the reading.
Chuck Palahniuk is a not a great public speaker in the classic sense of those words. You can see, looking at him, that he loves doing it and loves that so many people are there to see him, but at the same time, one can sense that he's a little bewildered that they are all there for him. He read two unpublished short stories, so that we would be "getting something that we couldn't get anywhere else". Ironically, "Love Nest", the only one whose title I can remember, was weaker than the second story, a lovely narrative about telemarketing. He handed out inflatable moose heads for those who answered trivia questions correctly and books and bridal bouquets for those who asked questions. Ron got a moose head when he correctly answered the following question, "In 'Invisible Monsters', what substance does the hormone treatment named "Premarin" stand for?"
And so, hubby and I both got to shout "Pregnant Mare Urine" at the top of our lungs - him a split second before me. Interestingly, it was one of the only questions to which we knew the answer and we were pretty much the only ones in the audience who knew it. Thank you, Molly.
After the reading, trivia and questions, Chuck again went out to sign "Rant". You remember those color-coded index cards? The ones that the girl took from us like tickets? Yeah, the colors and the numbers written on the cards were the order in which we were supposed to go to get in line. The guy running it told us it was on the "honor system". Hubby says that honesty is dead in Las Vegas, Nevada - I'd say it's pretty dead in Columbus, Ohio, too.
Our group numbered among the twenty or so who were in the theater after this announcement, because we knew that our color was supposed to be "last" in line. We were honest, and we wound up at the very end of the line as a result.
Still, we got to meet the man, get our book signed and a picture and shake his hand. And the moose head was signed already. We missed the beginning of the movie, a DVD projected on the big screen instead of a film, but big deal. We finally got to see the end in a theater. And king mob came for the movie, which was nice, too.
After the movie, we went to Hounddogs for the first good pizza we've had since...well, the last time we went to Hounddog's. We even got to hang out with king_mob at the house after that.
Friday was a lazy day (too lazy - we slept in and so we missed seeing king_mob and azhriaz much, *pout*), filled with bookstores, Chinese food and having fun hanging out with sillypixie_99. The flight back was both non-stop and uneventful except for a crying baby that was also non-stop. I spent the weekend catching up on sleep and unpacking.
So, was seeing the man worth everything that we had to go through to see him? Ron felt bad because I missed seeing him when he was here in Vegas in November - because it was a smaller crowd here, Chuck got to be a little chummier with everyone. I'll tell you, though. I don't feel cheated in the least.
From the moment he opened his mouth, the trip was worth it. No amount of silly concerns, late planes or any of life's other petty annoyances could take away from what he had to say. His stories were entertaining, even if the audience questions were on the order of, "Where do you get your ideas?" One nozzle actually had a four-part question that kept getting lamer the longer he spoke. A lynching was on the horizon just as this guy finished speaking. Still, Chuck left us all with the same message to take or leave.
One day, we'll all be dead. No matter what we do, what we say, think, feel, fear or are, we're all the same decaying organic matter as everyone else.
Not long after the trip, I learned from the History Channel that in the catacombs beneath Paris, there is a wall made from human bones and behind that wall there are estimated to be 5-6,000,000 human remains piled higgledy-piggledly. Every one of them was a person, who may or may not have been named Robert Paulson. They all had thoughts and dreams, good and bad days. And they're all dead without even a marker to remind us of who they were. But because they lived, we have something cool to wonder at and/or be creeped out by today. And that's a pretty good thing, I think. It gives we future generations something over which to ponder, doesn't it?
Death is inevitable. All we can do is try to have a few laughs first. Chuck Palahniuk gave me a few laughs on the evening of Thursday, May 17, 2007. It was worth it and would have been worth it even if our plane had crashed on the way back (that sort of thinking is why I needed some of Marla's OD before I could set foot on the airplanes).
One final note on the trip, I don't think I've ever eaten so much crap in a 48-hour period before. I had a steak sandwich for breakfast in Atlanta, coffee and a cookie during the first signing, a bite of a hot dog in the theater before the reading, a meatball sub while waiting for the second signing, pizza after the movie, Dynasty fried rice for breakfast on Friday and a Max & Erma's Erma burger before we got on the plane to come back - that's about five days' worth of food for me. I'm sure that I also ate something that night in Vegas, probably a dinner of chocolate and Hot Tamales. (You think I'm joking about that last one.) The only healthy thing I ate during that period was the fruit cup that came with the burger and even that was suspect.
I don't normally track my food that way, but god-DAMN! It was all yummy. Even the airport steak sandwich. :)
So, how am I feeling right now? Pretty damn good, actually. Happy I went, happy I'm here and even happy that I'll be fertilizing someone's lawn some day. Hey, it's good to have goals, right? (In case you can't tell from the tone of this, I'm smiling right now-moods are so hard to convey in this format...oh, wait, I have a mood button right here...)