HELL WEEK PART ONE 10-2-03
Let me first clarify that by "Hell Week" I am not suggesting that "having too much work" is a bad thing. As an artist, having too much work is a good thing. Having no work is a bad thing. I've gone months with no work in the past, and some artists I know have gone years. That is truly hell for an artist. The circumstances I am describing are more, having too much work- and then unforeseen events, and mother nature throws you a curve, and you are stuck with way too much to do, and way too little time to do it in, and you have to kind of be tested, to see what you are capable of, and you are pushed to your physical limits. That's a good idea of what a "Hell Week" might be for an artist.
In the world of the College Frats, "Hell Week" is the week the frats "Rush" the pledges hard-to see if they can take it. I guess that's where I was going with the title. I've decided to extend the hell in part three to include the weeks after Hell Week, up till now, because the parties and deadlines don't stop, so that will be in the next update...so for now, enjoy Hell Week part one.
I'm going to have to break this story up into three updates, because there is a lot to this story, and I would rather leave you in suspense, then edit it down.
These past two weeks have been a bitch, birthday or no. Let me take you back to the Wednesday before last-Wednesday the 17th, which is when it all started.
The week started with potential, Monday the 15th I had to finish a few spot illustrations to compliment a feature spread illustration I did that's getting printed in next issue of Maxim. I knocked them out and e-mailed them over no sweat. Tuesday the 16th I was waiting to hear back about the Complex Magazine comic strip script I had written and was holding off of starting the artwork until I got the changes back, so I just shot hoops, worked on my paintings, and hung out with Ran-D. I had a good party lined up for Wednesday night, the night of the 17th, so I was really ready to kick back and relax.
I was taking Jen to this party which I don't usually do because of her work schedule so it would be a nice change of pace. I would then take my parent's out for their Anniversary dinner. Then work for a few days, and then relax on my birthday-the 25th. So, throw in a few deadlines and you got a pretty good but enjoyable two weeks. Or so it seemed.
First the party:
I was going to my friend, music video editor, JOSH CLARK'S building party. Let me break this party's scenario down for you as it was laid out for me. His East Village complex is unique in that it throws an open bar, free food, lobby gallery opening, and DJ hosted party once a month for residents. Combine that with the fact that the building houses Elite and Ford models who are all in from other countries while on location, and you have the makings of a pretty swanky-eyecandy-o-licious event. Considering that this was Fashion Week in Manhattan, they would all be done up nice for the various other parties and events they would be hitting, so, a no brainer good time.
A simple plan:
Now, I was borrowing my brother BRETT'S "kickass" Jetta for a few days. Although it was hardly street worthy (had to attach the front license plate to the bumper with wire). On this particular morning, the plan was, while he was at class, I would take the car to an inspection station and get it inspected for him. Drop the car off with him at his campus, catch a train to the city, run a few errands, meet up with JEN at Penn Station on 34th and 7th Ave. Head down to Josh's Party, hang out late into the night, take a train back to Brett's campus-according to him, they run all night. He would then drive me in the "asskicking" Jetta to my parent's house, where we would then treat them to an anniversary dinner the next night. Then I would start work on my Complex strip. I went to the inspection station and the car failed with flying colors, which was no shocker (considering none of the doors on the car open, except the driver's door, and you have to know how to "pinch it" just right). So now I was driving over to give it back to him with the big fat rejected sticker on it, (It was still legally drivable for 45 days). He's a Rutgers student, so I swung by his pad in New Brunswick, NJ to return the car and hop a quick train to NY for the party, all according to plan.
Easy right?
Wrong, traffic had made me arrive at his place with about ten minutes to spare to catch the last train that would get me to the city on time. He literally had to jump in the passenger seat (which I had to open from the inside cause the outside doesn't work) while the car was still moving because I didn't have time to stop and look for a parking space.
He gave me quick directions to the train station. I crappily parked the car, hopped out and have him a quick hug good-bye and thanks for the lend of the car, and handed him the paperwork that read "You failed, we are sorry your car is a piece of shit. Better luck next time," in not so many words.
I hustled under and around the overpass to the Train station and ran up the escalator. When I got up there, the station was filled to capacity. People were crashed out on every bench.
"Something does not read right with this scene." I told myself.
Of course, because something wasn't right. The trains were messed up with power breaks somewhere in the line (WTF?) is what I kept hearing, so all the New Jersey trains were down with 1 1/2 hour delays-at least. Wow, that was from out of left field. In other words, I'll be 1 1/2 hours late to the party and already having arranged to meet Jen at Penn Station, NY, this wasn't going to be good.
So I asked the guy at the train's ticket counter, "Is there a bus around here that goes to the city?" He told me, "At the donut shop across the street there is one..." with all the emotion of a robot who's been asked the same question 1000 times, understandably.
Someone on the ticket line, which was now had turned into a bitch and moan line, was looking at a bus schedule and said to me "One is leaving right now, there won't be another one for a long time, you better run if you want to catch it!"
I ran out of the terminal and down multiple flights of stairs where from one of the landings I spied a bus with a small single file line of people loading into it just across the intersection. I don't see any donut shop. But I caught a glimpse of a girl running from the bus and quickly disappearing behind a pillar, obviously going to purchase a ticket, so now I at least know the right direction to go to find this donut shop.
I got to ground level and sprinted across the intersection narrowly dodging a few cars with Rutgers decals, getting honked at while my DJ bag slammed into one of them. I ripped open the donut shop's door with a clatter of little bells and a little too much adrenaline soaked strength (having just narrowly avoided death). Everyone in the place glanced over at me, sweaty and red faced. From the looks of them, other then the girl who just ran in, these people appear to have never been in a rush in their entire lives.
Now, normally I don't mind waiting on line, but when you got to catch a bus that's loading, you get a little impatient. There was only one guy in line in front of the girl I had followed in. He was buying a little piece of cake. "Will that be all boss?" says the shopkeep to the cake-hungry backwoods-Hacksaw Jim Duggan looking gentleman.
I was looking at the piece of cake and I started thinking. "Man, what a piece-o-cake, even though this is stressful, this was actually pretty easy, the traffic, and then the train problems didn't slow me down at all. I've been working on adrenaline now in a nonstop daze of rushing since I got out of the inspection station-but I made it, I'm doing OK, I found the donut shop with little effort, I didn't get pulled over for the flunked inspection sticker, the bus is parked right out there, the bus schedule here says that the bus will actually get to the city faster then the train would have in the first place, this guy will be done in a second, me and this girl will buy tickets at the same time and I'm on my way. This is a piece of cake!"
The dumb little piece-o-cake pun bounced around my head and was so stupid it made me smile for a second. "The night will go just fine. All will work out according to plan. Any minor setback will be remedied in due time." I thought to myself.
"Will that be all boss?" asked the shopkeep.
The man stood there for a second weighing his options.
"Maybe I'll get a Snapple too." He barked.
Judging on appearance, smell, gate, and cadence, this guy looked like he just pulled a double shift at a farm somewhere gutting pigs, had recently smoked a fat dubie, and now was just taking it easy. The man at the register wrung up a Snapple. The stoned hillbilly walked over as slow as humanly possible to the wall with the soda, slid the door slowly, and stood there milling over which Snapple he wanted to buy.
I start shaking my head, "No man, cake! Why didn't you just buy the damn cake? It was supposed to be a piece-o-cake, now you are getting all GOD DAMN DIFFICULT!" I'm thinking and getting nervous that I'm not going to make it. I'm going to miss my bus because of this hick's munchies.
Meanwhile the also "ticket anxious" girl was doing a modified pee-pee dance about the tickets too, she kept trying to arch her body to get a better view out the window to see if the bus hadn't left yet (because our view was obstructed by the giant pillar). The line to board wasn't that long to begin with, and now we couldn't tell how long it was or if the bus had already left, we weren't sure, and we were both getting antsy.
The guy decided on peach Snapple and moseyed back to the register.
"And a pack of Marlboros." He said gruffly. The guy working the register reached up and got the cigarettes.
"Marlboro Reds." He corrected himself.
The guy at the register reached up again and exchanged the cigarettes.
"CHRIST, YOU JUST WANT CAKE!" I thought angrily, trying to telepathically convince this guy that he was done, that he just wanted cake. I was thinking. "You are getting sleepy...sleepy’Ķ You just want cake, just the cake man, leave it at cake."
"Will that be all boss?" The shopkeep said again, unfazed. The shopkeep obviously deals with the indecision of strangers probably once every ten minutes so it's just part of the job to him.
"Can I get some matches with that?" The good old boy said as his voice wavered and mutated into a nice emphysema style hacking cough after this request. He then methodically pulled out and unfolded a soiled handkerchief and wiped the chewing tobacco spittle off of his mouth and chin, then refolded and re-pocketed it.
I observed this with a confused facial reaction I'm sure, Cigarettes on top of chewing tobacco, "Man, this guy's really tempting fate." I thought to myself, and my expression must have shown it. The girl saw my reaction, and replied to me with a facial expression of agreement. I started to daydream for a second and imagined him saying, "Ya got any Cancer up there? I'd like a few tumors while your at it. How bout just rubbing some Cancer on my gums." Then I snap back to the fact that I'm about to miss my bus and I got all frenzied again.
The guy behind the register hands him matches.
"Is that all?"
The guy, thinks for a second,
"Let me get a couple of those lottery tickets too."
By this time the girl and I were in a joint state of frustration, the kind where your fists are clenched and your fingernails are almost drawing blood in your palms and you just want to yell at the MOTHER FUCKER to hurry his ass, because you need to catch the MOTHER FUCKING BUS which is about to leave the MOTHER FUCKING STATION! But you know that this will be pointless because it will start an argument and just slow you down more.
Then the pig-gutter-cum-bob-marley goes and pays with a $50 bill. Great, now the shopkeep has to figure out the change...but luckily his subtraction skills were top notch, and it didn't take very long. The guy received his change as well as a "Have a good one boss." And moved on.
The girl was next, she asked the shopkeep for a round trip to NY, and anxiously waiting for my opportunity I almost cut off the end of her request with , "Can you also print me a one way while you're at it, we're kinda in a hurry." Aligning myself with her, as though we were traveling together to speed myself along did me no good, because the shopkeep gave me the pointer finger-one minute gesture while nodding and grinning, I thought to myself "I don't HAVE ONE FUCKING MINUTE!."
The girl was already out of sight while my ticket was being printed. I grabbed it and busted out the glass doors to the clang of bells and skidded and around the pillar. The girl was standing there moping as the bus's doors had already shut and it was starting to drive off.
"FUCK!" I blurted out, "Yeah, we missed it." She said.
I started to pull out my cell to see if my brother could give me a ride to Penn Station, Newark so I could catch a train in from there, when about 30 paces away, the bus stopped at a red light.
"Not yet we haven't!" I yelled as I started running, half of my sentence trailed off leaving her to collect her things. I jumped up to the front door and started banging on it in a rapid succession, and slapping the Plexiglas windows. The driver turned his head and shot me a look, he was pissed. I held up my ticket with one hand, and pointed at it with the other, with a big shit eating grin on my face. The light turned green and I back away as he started driving again.
"Damn, what a bastard!" I said aloud for the girls benefit. Then about 20 feet away from us we realize that the bus driver had pulled over to pick us up. We ran over and hopped on, "Thank you, sir!" I said as I handed him my ticket.
I mentally retracted the bastard comment, sat down, and start reading a SCI FI novel and quickly fell asleep. Never to see the weird anxious girl again.
I woke up as we have come to an almost complete stop. Apparently the train trouble has forced many people to commute by car and bus, thus causing major traffic jams into the city. Maybe that accounts for why I almost missed the initial train in the first place!
We were in the Lincoln Tunnel, and we were trudging along at a snail's pace. I looked at the time on my cellphone and realized that we must have been jammed up for a while because I was already way behind schedule. The train I was supposed to catch would have already arrived in the city by now had it been running on time. I had a few errands I needed to get done while I was in the city before I met up with Jen at Penn to go down together to Josh's shindig, but all that was going to have to be scrapped now because of the time.
The bus got out of the tunnel and at around 34th Street and 11th Avenue we stopped completely. Cars started honking their horns and me and my fellow riders realized that there was no way in hell we were staying on this bus to 42nd street Port Authority. We could have hoofed it faster, so the entire bus emptied out, right there in the middle of the street. I walked over to Penn Station, and showed up just in time to greet Jen at the L.I.R.R.. We had some quick pizza in the terminal and shot down to Josh's address. On the subway I kept thinking to myself "There is still a salvageable night ahead...everything's chill...everything's chill."
Or is it?
-to be continued in next update
Just another day in the life of an Art Juggernaut.
-Cojo