Thirty Days in the Air

I checked out of the Travelodge (not a great room, but dammit, you can’t beat the price without sleeping on needles and burnt spoons in this town) and had a couple of hours to kill before meeting my friend ileana (she’s the one who spells it with a lower-case i…or at least she used to…I should ask her about that).

I broke fast at Suki’s (as mentioned in an earlier post – cute bartender, cute cook, quiet corner with an outlet…I am so blessed) and spent an hour or two collecting thoughts and writing.  Then two comics from the night before came in.  I can’t remember their names; for that I’m sorry.  They were planning a little writing kibbutz and invited me to join.  We sat for about 10 minutes and I listened more than spoke.  The nice lady comic threw out a couple of premises and sort of waited for us to write material for her.  The somewhat shy male comic had a bit started but needed some punch lines.  I threw something out; it wasn’t good but I felt like I was at least participating.

Then he told a joke with a familiar punch line.  ”It wasn’t a white baby, I’m not a monster.”  The baby part wasn’t familiar; the monster part was; I’m pretty sure it’s a Norm Wilkerson punchline.  He answered my unasked question by saying “Brick gave me that…”

Me: “Brick Andrews?”

Him: “yeah….”

Her (without being asked, but seeing the look on my face): “Oh, I know the whole story…”

Me: “Really?  What story?”

Her: “Well, you know…” I stared. “That whole misunderstanding…” I stared, still. “Where those three women accused him of … you know… sexual assault.”  I said I didn’t know that story and asked her to tell me.  She regaled me with a tale so sweet and believable….see…Brick can’t really be responsible for everything those girls are saying.  Brick even admits that, in at least once instance, he doesn’t know what happened; he was a blackout drunk.  He’s genuinely sorry for everything and he’s working to make amends and he’s a good person and he’s been good to her and to everyone around them.

I.

Could.

Not.

Speak.

I caught my breath, wished them well and left.  The story of repentance carries with it an inherent refutation to any question I might ask; that being that I just don’t know the new Brick and if I could just give him a chance….

But I don’t have to give him a chance.  He didn’t do anything to me except pretend to be human in my presence.  I haven’t asked any of the other parties involved if he’s actually contacted them, apologized, offered to come back to Texas and stand trial…I don’t need to.  I would not have met him in Portland if he was truly repentant.

After clearing my tab, booking a hotel room, and saying my goodbyes to Mario, Todd Armstrong was kind enough to give me a ride to the other Tuesday night open mic; Suki’s.  I knew Brick would be there, too, but I will be goddammed if I’m going to let him throw me off track.  In fact, we walked in JUST as he was finishing his set….sorry Austin comics, I can’t provide any update to the list of jokes he’s stealing.

The Suki’s open mic would be familiar to old-school Velv comics. The host (Dax Jordan) makes the list on the fly accounting for venerability, uniqueness, arrival time….you know…pulls it out of his ass.  He also interjects with readings from a gay cowboy novel using his forefinger as a substitute mustache to great effect.

I tried to look Brick in the face….see some sincerity…find some compassion in my heart…but it’s just not there.

By the time I went up, my body thought it was after 2am.  I went for broke and abandoned the structure I’ve been working on and just started shooting jokes from the hip.  Results were exactly as expected; I choked a punch line or two, flubbed the timing on two of my guaranteed-go-to jokes, went over by at least a minute, and briefly abused a drunk comic who talked during my set.

But I also got some laughs.  So not a total loss by any means.

Venue: Suki’s Bar and Grill

Host: Dax Jordan

Time: 5 minutes

List: first come first served at host’s discretion.

Results: about as bad as a good set at the Velv.

Suki’s Restaurant is a bar that serves food under a Travel Lodge just on the outside edge of the 405 on 4th street in Portland.

I told jokes here last night.

Today I’m staring at a plate with one remaining tater tot; its other contents already obliterated by an appetite that’s still on Central time.

Err…no more tater tots.

The very cute bartender has just made her third unnecessary visit to my table….in a city reputed for lazzez-faire service.

Portland started for me Monday night.  My scheduling mistake a week ago put my planned lodging off kilter. A woman I haven’t seen in more than 20 years and with whom I had only reconnected on facebook stepped in to rescue me.  Kira and I shared an acting class before Shia LaBoof was out of diapers.  She tried to live The Life in NYC for a while; moved into a grown-up-sleepaway-camp in the Pacific Northwest and settled in Portland when the right man came along.  She picked me up at PDX and shared her home with me.  I met her handsome husband that night and her two beautiful kids the next morning.  They provided me with, in order: the best corned-beef and cabbage I’ve had ever, a comfy bed, a hot shower, and a yet again more perspective on my own life through having shared their own.

I had the privilege of spending the morning with Kira, Gia, and Miles and then got dropped off at Power’s bookstore.  Austinites will understand if I describe it as a Half Price Books the size of two Book Peoples, crossed with Hogwarts.  The rest of you can use your imaginations; it’s a used book store.

I farted around in there until I heard from my other friend in Portland, an actress with whom I’d been cast in Midsummer Night’s Dream.  We caught up over Ethiopian food and then she dropped me off for what was to be the first of two open mics last night.

I lied last night.  I don’t think I was very convincing; but I was being lied to at the time and my only real responsibility was to accept his lie at face-value.  And for each of us the choice was the same. Lie…or go to jail.