I Get Lost Sometimes

I had a fun weekend. Well, as much fun as someone my age can have without drawing the attention of the authorities.

Friday afternoon I drove to Birmingham in the driving rain with Tornado Warnings all around me. Warning sirens blared. Trees were down in the roadways. Cars sat facing the wrong direction after spinning out on the soaked pavement. The drive was quite treacherous. I subjected myself to all of this peril just to spend time with my good friend Heath Mixon. I put my life on the line for you buddy.

I arrived and tossed my bag in the door of Heath’s house and we were off again. We stopped at Al’s Deli for a couple of baked potatoes. When I say baked potato, I mean a potato the size of a newborn baby. Sliced open (the potato, not the baby) and filled with luscious goodness. Mine with butter, cheese, bacon, and green onion. Heath’s with butter, cheese, and barbequed chicken. Wonderful food.

As we ate we took some time to catch up. Topics of conversation included, but were not limited to (in no particular order): school, kids, Misty, Glee, pornography, and humongous potatoes. That, by the way is not a euphemism. These potatoes were huge! Following our dinner, we rushed off to the Alys Stephens Center for an evening with David Sedaris.

I wish I had a mind for details. If I did I would recall some of the stories he read. I do not. I do, however, remember bits, pieces, and phrases from some of them. I’ll share. “A box of condoms the size of a cinder block.” “After anal sex we like shortcake.” “My mother condemned a man to death.” “The one-armed man.” “I should’ve punched her in the face.” “For the crime of loving another man!” “Very soiled underpants.” “Does a rooster have a penis?” These were all from different stories, so good luck connecting the dots.

After he read, took a few minutes to answer questions from the audience. This was, unfortunately, the most memorable portion of the evening. The questions ranged from inane to unbelievable. When someone says they will take questions, I assume they mean questions about their presentation or their work. Someone asked Mr. Sedaris what he thought about David Letterman’s current predicament. And that was not the most ridiculous query.

That honor actually goes to two individuals. I’ll call it a tie for the worst question of the night. First we have the drunken lady in the back of the room. As Mr. Sedaris finished answering a question, while he was still talking, she stands up waving her arms vigorously, her dangly arm flab following at a slightly slower pace than her arms. The momentum of her arms along with the number of drinks she’d consumed caused her body to sway along as well. As she waved, and her flab echoed the waves, she screamed over his previous answer, “Hey! Hey! Hey!”

Having little choice Mr. Sedaris acknowledged the inquisitor. Her question was more imperative than interrogative. She blurted, semi-coherently, “Tell us your story about trick-or-treating after Halloween. And the candy.” Not a terrible question per se. Just incredibly rude. And intoxicated.

Our co-leader in the stupid question category was, well, I’m not sure I can describe it. Here’s the question as best I can remember it: “You referred to your sister Amy in your Jury Duty story. Is that the same Amy Sedaris that narrated the Make Me Laugh special on PBS? And if so, what does she do? Is she a comedienne?”

This caused Mr. Sedaris to stutter a little. I think he was a little taken aback. The audience was not nearly as gracious and forgiving of her ignorance. A huge groan escaped the audience after the question was asked. I think I saw the questioner’s companion wince with the rest of us. He seemed to slide as far away from her as the arms of his seat would allow.

For those of unfamiliar with Amy Sedaris, she is an actress and writer. She is most famous as an actress. She starred in the TV series Strangers with Candy. She was a member of the Second City comedy troupe. She starred in the Nickelodeon made-for-TV movie Gym Teacher: The Movie. Most recently I’ve seen her on the Sony Reader commercial with Peyton Manning and Justin Timberlake. I would say of all of her credits, narrating Make Me Laugh on PBS is the least known. Such an odd point of reference.

Heath and I planned to get books signed after the show. Heath bought one there and I brought Will Powell’s copy of Me Talk Pretty One Day to have it signed for him since I’ve had it for 6 months. Mr. Sedaris pledged to stay until the last person made it through the signing line. This took two and a half hours on his last visit. We planned to get up as soon as he finished and rush to the line as quickly as possible. We gathered our things when it became obvious he was wrapping up. As soon as Mr. Sedaris said “Goodnight,” we stood to dash out.

Unfortunately, the elderly couple next to us was not in the same hurry. We stood (mostly) patiently as they sat and slowly gathered their coats and her purse and his hat. We watched helplessly as she searched her purse for some insignificant item. Finally she pulled a set of keys from the bottomless abyss of her handbag. We started to move forward only to stop again as she searched for the correct key on the ring of 373 different keys. The two elderly turtles finally found, gathered, and arranged everything they needed in order to leave and stood up. Slowly. We stood helpless as hundreds of people exited their seats, entered the lobby, and moved on to the Zion of the signing line.

Eventually we were released from our temporary captivity. We entered the raging sea of humanity that filled the Stephens Center’s lobby. We fought against the current to find our way to our Shangri-La: the line.

When we found the line, we were at its end. Though I’m not entirely sure you could say this line had an end. Actually, I don’t think I can call it a line with any accuracy. A flowing mass is more precise. Ever-changing. Growing in all directions.

This was not going to plan. We quickly realized that this ever-growing throng of flesh would go nowhere fast. We debated whether to stay in line or wander about while the line dissipated. We decided to wait elsewhere.

We walked outside. Talked to Jamie Parris, his wife, and their friend. Relaxed on a bench. Brought the car closer to the theater. Listened to a podcast about marshmallows & body cavities and dogs & bodily fluids. (Don’t ask. Really. Don’t. Ask.) After an hour or so, we walked back inside.

The line had barely moved. It still resembled a snake with a tumorous tail.

We stood in the lobby for a while and visited with some of Heath’s co-workers. After a few minutes we went through the exit into the small theater being used as the “signing room.” The ultimate destination. Here we found the cause of the stagnant line.

The author sat at a small table in the middle of the stage. We sat on the back row and watched as groups two, or three people at a time moved up to Mr. Sedaris. He smiled genuinely at each person as they approached. He engaged them in conversation. He asked questions and seemed legitimately interested in their answers. He spent at least 5 minutes with each person. From the look on his face he could not have been happier.

We watched for a few minutes. Then Heath pulled out his iPod. In what could have been the gayest hour of my life, we sat in the theater and watched an episode of Glee on the small 2” screen while sharing a set of ear buds. The episode guest-starred Kristen Chinoweth. It was one of the best of the season.

When the episode ended, we walked back to the lobby. It was now midnight. The line had shortened, but not significantly. At this point we debated whether to stay or not. Judging by the flow of people, I estimated a wait of at least another hour. Heath left the final decision up to me. I voted we leave.

Luckily I had the benefit of knowing an Alys Stephens Center employee. Heath asked one of his co-workers (who had to stay the entire time) if she would get Mr. Sedaris to sign our books. She agreed. We left.

As we crossed the street to the car, we deliberated over what to do next. Go to his house watch a movie. Go to his house and go to sleep. Or karaoke.

Since it was midnight and I had to drive home the next morning and we were tired and a little disappointed from not meeting David Sedaris and we are both in our mid-thirties, we made the sensible decision. We chose karaoke.

20 minutes later we pulled into the parking lot of a bar housed in a building that used to be a Pizza Hut. As we walked in I was met by the smell of cigarette smoke and adolescence. As we entered the building’s former life was evident. On our right, the former kitchen area was now the bar. The ex-dining room, to our left, was filled with tables that we filled with guys and girls. I would say a minimum of 50% of them were under-age. We stood and watched the drunken revelry unfold before us.

Eventually we were able to procure a table. Heath ordered a Preemie, a smaller version of The Baby. The Baby is a gallon jar filled with ice, limejuice, water, sugar, and the liquor of your choice. Heath’s choice was vodka. The Preemie is the same but only a half-gallon. The waitress, who knew Heath, quickly brought out our Preemie and placed it and two straws on the table.

I’ve mentioned before that I’m not a drinker. I cannot abide the taste of alcohol. But on this night, when I was sitting in a bar for the first time in 15 years, I felt daring. I took a straw and placed it in the jar’s large mouth. I cautiously sipped, expecting the bitterness and burn of alcohol to trigger my gag reflex.

The cold liquid finally hit my tongue and I winced. When I allowed myself to taste the beverage, I realized it was good. Sweet with a hint of citrus. And somewhere at the back of my mouth I noticed a slight tinge of the requisite vodka burn. The two of us finished the drink before we left.

We sat there a little over an hour. We watched as drunken college kids, some of them actually old enough to drink, yell, bark, chant, and “sing” everything from rap to country to pop. Off the top of my head I don’t remember even one song that I recognized. Except the ones Heath sang.

Heath sang 2 songs. (“Walking in Memphis” and “Dixieland Delight”) I won’t put sang in quotations in regards to his performance, because he actually has talent. No one else did. I did not sing. There was not nearly enough vodka in our Preemie to get me on stage in front of that crowd.

I don’t think I can write about the karaoke experience with no mention of the restroom. As soon as we got there, Heath told me I had to go to the bathroom before we left. I was scared. Eventually, I could wait no longer. I went.

I opened the door slowly. I half expected someone to jump out and scare the pee out of me. No one was there. I entered the restroom still wondering what I was supposed to see in there.

I locked the door behind me and turned to the urinal. There it was. Above the two toilets, the entire wall was covered with scantily clothed, or unclothed but covered, women. All of them, of course, were very well endowed. The pictures were placed together in a soft-core collage that was unavoidable when using the facilities.

The entire collage was covered with a thick Plexiglas shield. There I saw the most disturbing aspect of the display. Thin off-white streaks of liquid had dried on the covering. Eww. I’d seen enough.

I returned to our table and we soon left.

I spent a fairly restful night on Heath’s couch. I awoke around 7:30 and couldn’t go back to sleep. Since Will’s book was still at the Stephens Center, I needed to wait for Heath and follow him to work and get the book. I changed clothes and spent the next couple of hours trying to figure out how to turn on the television and in the meantime playing Solitaire and Backgammon on my phone.

Eventually I figured out the TV and turned on ESPN’s College Gameday. Soon after that Heath and Mark and Charlie & Owen (Heath and Mark’s dogs) were up. We sat and watched Gameday for a while. Charlie curled up on the couch next to me. Heath commented that that was the longest ESPN had been on in that house in a long time. Then I felt bad about hogging the TV.

After a little while Heath took a shower and got ready for work. I said bye to Mark and Charlie and Owen and was on my way.

It was a fun weekend. David Sedaris remains an inspiration (as a writer anyway). The only regret I have is that we didn’t stay to meet him. To be honest, though I think karaoke was more fun.