My personal highlight was meeting Jason Blum of Blumhouse at our booth. I didn’t know he was going to be there and had actually watched The Woman in the Yard on the flight up. I was kind of bumbling idiot (no surprise), but he was very gracious. I tried to get him to tell me if my interpretation of the end of the movie is correct (as he is famous for being ambiguous) and he just smiled and said it sounded right.
She’s behind me, isn’t she?
I also met the guy who wrote the Clown in a Cornfield book, which the movie is based on, but I didn’t tell him I had no idea there was a book.
I also got to take the RPG guys to brunch and they’re fantastic.
Jef Aldrich, Jon Taylor, Janes D’Amato
I also saw a panel of awesome witches.
Starr Ann RavenHawk, Judy Ann Nock, Jason Myers, host (sorry not trying to be disrespectful, I just don’t know his name), Patti Negri
We also saw Danny Trejo ride by in a cart and David Dastmalchian, who was very rude to a security guard.
It was great having Justin there during travel and meals. I was excited to share the experience with him even though most of the time I was working.
He kept himself busy.
The hotel room overlooked the marina and was a much better quality than ones we stay in when we are paying.
One day we even had a visitor.
We saw a seagull fly down from a ledge and land on his face. I literally screamed but a guy told me it happens all the time and it was learning to fly. It did get right back up, seemingly unfazed. I really hope the poor little birdie doing better.
Mostly I just worked the booth where 97% of the customers were really cool. Note: people are rabid for free stuff even when they have no idea what they’re getting. But fandom overall is fantastic.
Y’all remember those days when we used to do trade shows all day then go drinking all night? How did we even survive that?
This past week, the whole week after we got home, other than working literally in my living room, I pretty much just slept.
Note: Nike Metacons are fantastic for the gym, not so much for being on your feet 6 days in a row. Not that I’ve been to the gym in two weeks. I did look at the gym in the hotel. It was very nice.
One of the biggest challenges my husband and I face in our marriage is picking what to watch on Saturday movie date night. So much so, that he posted this video on my Facebook wall. Rather than Friends being our default, our go-to is either Bob’s Burgers, King of the Hill,American Dad!, or Rick and Morty. Our days of clubbing are well over, and we feel no shame spending Saturday night on the couch with the cats. A lot of it is that we’re older and much more exhausted, but it’s also a lot of “been there, done that.”
I-caramba!
Every other week we take turns picking the film, and this past Saturday, it was his choice. I wasn’t paying attention when he watched the trailer for the mini-series we were about to start, but the description sounded pretty interesting.
For your viewing pleasure, I present the I-Land preview, which prettymuch tells the entire story in a minute and twenty-three seconds, although it does leave out the scenes of a mass shooting and (multiple!) sexual assaults that we were fortunate enough to miss because we couldn’t get past the first episode. (Trigger warning: There is an attempted sexual assault in the first episode.)
After I watch a show or movie, I tend to read pretty much every review I can find on the first two pages of a Google search, but since we didn’t plan on ever watching more episodes of I-Land, I started my research right away. I’m a pretty confident writer, but there is no way I could ever write a review as awesome as the ones below. Take a look (spoilers ahead):
As far as I-Land being so bad you should watch it, I’m going to have to respectfully disagree. No one should watch it. You, of course, should make your own decision, but if you do choose to spend seven-ish hours watching it to be ironic and then get mad at the realization that you’ll never get that time back, I will say, “I told you so.”
I had a dream . . . about I-Land
I have weird dreams. They’re actually my second favorite part of sleeping, sleeping being the first. I also have a sleep disorder, but that’s another blog.
I’m telling you this because last night I dreamt about I-Land. My husband and I were getting married in this weird church that had blue water on the floor. Or maybe my one-person wedding party was wearing a blue dress. Maybe both. It really doesn’t matter.
To get to the point, before the actual ceremony, I turned to the guests and explained that the raffle tickets under their seats were their chance to win our special gift to them, a trip to I-Land. I then proceeded to play the trailer on the TV that was mounted kitty-corner in the maybe-church.
I work up sometime after my husband, the person marrying us, and I laid on the floor to go through the ceremony in that position. I never found out who won the trip.
Tit for Tat
Last night I agreed South Park: Joining the Panderverse. I haven’t watched South Park since it first came out–it’s definitely not my type of humor. But I was in the mood for something totally irrelevant and I knew my husband wanted to see it. Plus, I was totally prepared to go all liberal on him every time there was something that went against what I believe in (I’m a joy to watch movies and/or anything political with.). And get this (I’m probably going to get some pushback from this so feel free to comment): it made me laugh. And probably because I am who I am and watched it through my political lens, I found it to be much more left leaning–or should I say aware of the ridiculousness of right-wing ideas–than expected. Perhaps I misunderstood the intent, but I did enjoy my version of what I saw.
Tonight, belief it or not, to humor me, Justin has agreed to watch Barbie. I honestly think he’ll love it but if not, he’s welcome to comment as much as he likes. But if he does enjoy it, you know what I’m going to say:
Happy New Year, All!
And remember, you don’t need to make resolutions and if you do and break them, it’s totally fine. You can make changes anytime you want–there is no schedule for that. And to quote a meme I’ve seen going around, if you’re doing nothing but surviving, that’s enough.
In my time off, I’ve been reading a lot but because I didn’t think I was getting paychecks anytime soon, I’ve rediscovered what a treasure the local library is. Currently I’m reading Quietly Hostile by Samantha Irby. If you haven’t read any of their books, I highly recommend you do. She writes in the style I love and hope to create myself. A girl can dream.
Do you want to see what I got at yesterday’s library haul?
Yes, that is a banned book you see. #GenderQueer #ReadBannedBooks
My last haul was just as good:
I was never the person who went to the public library. Don’t get me wrong, I always saw the value in them, but I collect books. Lots and lots of books. I need a whole lot more bookshelves for all these books. In fact, it never really dawned on me to read a book without keeping it. I have some that are almost 40 years old on my shelves. Some are classics, some are favorites, and some are like Rock Star by Jackie Collins (which I must admit I enjoyed all those years ago). Could I give away or sell some of the books? Well bless your heart for asking that question.
Note: I actually do still have a library book I took out in high school. It’s a collection of Emily Dickinson poems. It’s pink. Please don’t tell anyone because I probably can’t afford the 35+ year late fee.
To eRead or not to eRead
For a while I was into eBooks. They’re really great for reading in bed when your partner goes to sleep early and the light keeps them up.
But you know what you can’t do with eBooks? You can’t admire them. I mean you can, but seeing the covers on an eReader just isn’t the same.
Is listening to audiobooks really reading?
Yes. Period.
I’m currently listening to Cunk on Everything, narrated by Philomena Cunk herself. While I’m not finding it as great as Cunk in Earthbecause the interviews were amazing, I still highly recommend it.
When I first got notice of my layoff, I had all sorts of plans to do all the things I didn’t have the time and energy to do when I was working full time. I started off pretty strong, but as soon as I got the new job offer and my time off became limited, I kind of dropped the ball. I do things, but not the challenging (for me) things I had planned (see below), opting to mostly take it easy. Today I am taking the day off completely and spending the day on the couch. And I feel completely guilty about it.
For context, here are some of my best-laid plans for the near future:
Deep clean house
Clean and organize closets
Write every day
Read everything
Go to gym every day
Roller skate
Take a ski lesson
Visit all the friends
Do magick
Everything, everywhere, all at once
When I was growing up, there was no such thing as executive dysfunction or ADHD, or if there was, no one ever talked about it. This goes for many more forms of neurodivergence, as well as mental illness, but that’s another blog.
When I did start hearing about ADHD, there was always a focus on the “hyperactive” element. And while I may be many things, hyperactive is not one of them.
The first time I saw a social media meme describing executive dysfunction, I felt seen. I don’t actually ever use that phrase “felt seen,” but it seems appropriate here.
If I were to diagnose myself as having ADHD, I’d probably be wrong because I can spend hours in concentration if I’m into what I’m doing. But ask me where I put my keys or my phone and I go into a panicked search for them—usually when I’m already late getting out the door. Plus, and don’t tell anyone this, I can be really flakey.
Someone told me this was all a sign of an anxious but also creative mind. I’ll take that as a fact, but is it though?
Today is no exception
I wanted to do all the creative things: read, write, finally start knitting that sweater I have all the materials for. So far after being up for 8ish hours, this blog is what I’ve done. I’ve barely gotten off the couch. I did also watch yesterday’s episode of General Hospital and have been binging The Rookie Feds. The first because I’m obsessed—oh my god, what is Esme going to do?!—the second because it came on Hulu after GH and for whatever reason, I got hooked. I mean it does star the woman who was in Reno 911! so it has that going for it. It’s completely and totally unrealistic and great for escapism. In my defense, I have limited TV right now because my firestick with my local channels streaming service isn’t working and I don’t have the energy to go through all the other streaming apps we have to find something.
Since we’re here: do you have a favorite streaming service that has local channels and also Discovery Science but doesn’t need a firestick?
By the way, I don’t trust anyone who says they don’t watch TV.
Where was I?
Ah, yes, ADHD. You know what? I did some laundry today too. If I ever buy another house, one of my must-haves will be the laundry on the second floor. Ours is in the basement and I was just so happy to actually have my first washer and dryer since I lived at home (25+ yeas ago) that I didn’t care where it was. Rookie mistake.
Maybe we all just need a break
Since I haven’t worked in a job in over a month, I’m probably not the right person to say that perhaps I just need some total downtime without guilt. However, even though I haven’t been working in a job, I’ve been extremely busy. I probably do deserve to spend a day on the couch not doing anything I planned to get done. We all deserve that, right? Without feeling guilty about it.
I had really been needing a break so initially when I was laid off, I wasn’t mad. It’s funny because whenever one of my amazingly talented friends gets laid off, I tell them to enjoy it because it won’t last long. In creative fields, well nowadays in any field, layoffs are frighteningly common, so we’ve all come to expect, albeit dread, it. And at first, I was taking my own advice, my positive perspective no doubt coming from a generous severance package and leftover PTO–and of course, three weeks’ notice of termination date.
It’s only temporary . . . probably.
Now this is not the first time I’ve been laid off, it’s the fifth. Even I was taken aback a bit when I realized how much it’s happened. But in my defense, three of the companies actually shut down. There is definitely fault to be attributed in those closures, but in these cases, it wasn’t mine. But we don’t need to visit that.
Well, there was the teaching fiasco
That’s another story altogether. Shout out to all my principals who fully supported me. If you’re doing the math, that’s three out of four of them. (I had to recheck my spelling of “principal” and to do so, I thought of the mnemonic device: “the principal is your pal.”) Principal number four was NOT my pal, and yes, I am still very very bitter about it.
Are you though, number 4, are you?
Post-exit strategy
This time around, I had big plans to work on my own writing and job search and do all the things I didn’t have the time or energy to do while I was working. I was going to create a structured day, because without structure, I’m pretty much useless. The plan included the gym, my own writing, looking for a job, getting marketing certifications, and the much-needed cleaning of the house.
I even thought about writing a column called, “Diary of the laid off,” which would, of course, have a much better title. (Note: despite the title of this blog, that column idea was fleeting.)
A rose by any other name . . .
The day before my last day, the gravity of the layoff hit me. When I told my therapist about it, he repeatedly referred to the situation as “being fired.” Even though it’s probably just semantics, I’m going to stick with “laid off” for all intents and purposes (as well as ego). I find termination to be a very harsh word as well, but I suppose there’s really no warm and fuzzy way to say your job is ending.
All of this made getting out of bed even harder than usual. But it also didn’t help that mornings are really cold now, the cats curl up next to me every morning, and I really didn’t have to stick to any schedule since without real obligations, I failed to set one up for myself.
What about the rest of my plans, you ask.
Three and a half weeks after my “termination date,” I’m writing the first thing other than resumes and cover letters. Now is probably a great time to shoutout my friend who gifted me time at a coworking space, which led to me meeting a woman who holds a writing group DURING THE DAY (you all know how I feel about going out at night). And today before I left for said coworking space and writing group, I cleaned the downstairs bathroom. I’m going to call all of this progress. I’ve also gotten two more marketing certifications and watched all the newest documentaries on cults. Have you seen the ones about Mother God? Fascinating.
I’m also spending probably way too much time at the gym, and if I had any self-control over my diet, I would be so muscular and sculpted right now. But you know, pasta and bread and tacos and New Haven takeout . . . you get it. Why give up one of the few pleasures in life?
Mmmm . . . funnel cake.
I am getting much stronger though, between injuries, which is really the point of it all. But it’s also an awesome “f*ck you” to the trainer who told me I’d never be able to keep a workout routine on my own. I even went to the gym with a boot on when I broke my toe (also at the gym, see “This Little Piggie Went to the ER), and damn right I made sure he saw me there with it on.
Overall, the first two weeks were a mixed bag. Honestly, if it weren’t for the financial aspect, most of the time, I would have been enjoying the break. But being a responsible adult, saddled with grad school debt and all the other bills that adults have to pay to live, I couldn’t fully enjoy my unexpected free time.
Well, that was unexpected
I don’t know if you believe in synchronicity, but you probably should. Unless you don’t want to–really the choice is completely up to you. We have enough of the government telling us what we can and cannot do with our bodies and our sexuality, I would never tell you what to do and think. (Note: If you are a racist, homophobe, TERF, or xenophobe, I will certainly tell you what I think about what you do and think.)
Anyhow, the night before my last day at my abovementioned job, I applied to one that seemed like the perfect match. Ironically, it was my boss from the job I was leaving who shared the posting on LinkedIn. He had been let go a few months ago so if I said I wasn’t expecting my time to come, I’d be lying.
The very next morning, which coincided with my last day on the job, the HR department from the place I applied reached out to see if I could interview with them. I could. The following Thursday I drove up to the office and met with two people who I really enjoyed speaking with. The following Tuesday, HR reached back out to see if I could meet with one more person that Thursday. Of course, I could. Aside from the fact that mid-thought while answering a question, I totally forgot what I was talking about, I felt like it went pretty well. About an hour later, I got the job offer.
Right now, I am literally between jobs as I don’t start my new one for another month. I think this (paid) break is really good for me and I’m enjoying it. By the time it’s over, my house will even be a little cleaner.
That said, I’m incredibly excited for the next, and hopefully final, chapter of my career.
Sometimes the universe gives you the rather aggressive push you need to make a change.
Thanks, universe. And thank all of you who have helped me through this and beyond.
(featured image: Photo by Scott Webb on Unsplash and features a woman who is definitely and most unfortunately, not me.)
what’s that saying? put the cart before the horse? that may be what i’m doing here if the cart was the previous post about my podiatrist follow-up and this post, or the horse, is all about what happened to have that follow-up in the first place.
after a two week break from the gym because of a head cold, after being back fully only about a month after healing from a pinched nerve in my neck for almost two months, i was off on indigenous people’s day and decided to go to the gym. i slept in on that glorious morning and didn’t go until around 10. that’s over two hours later than my usual time, which already started things off on the wrong foot.
the signs were there
as i was leaving my house, i noticed a dead dragonfly caught in a spiderweb on our front door. of course, like anyone else would, i immediately feared that was a bad sign. right? a dead dragonfly? but reflecting on my years of therapy, i decided i was just being neurotic and i should get on with it. (note: this is not a warning against going to therapy but is a warning against not trusting your gut. i’m going to bring this up in my next session.)
eye of the tiger
i’m on the treadmill and for the first time in a few weeks, i actually feel good. after, i head over to the smith machine to do some squatting. i prefer the smith when i’m alone because there’s much less chance of getting hurt than if using the power rack.
smith machine
likely because it was mid-morning and a holiday, the place was crowded and both smiths were being used so i decided to use the leg press. something didn’t feel right about it, but like seriously, what could go wrong?
i’ve done this hundreds of times.
in fact, there was a time when i was doing 270 total, which is 3 plates on both sides, but lately i’d been struggling with 180 after being away for so long and didn’t want to push it and hurt myself that day, i loaded two 45lb plates on one side no problem. i grabbed another and started to hoist it up onto the other side.
I REALLY DO THINK I HAVE ADHd
something in front of me caught my attention. i think it was two guys working out on a nearby machine. they weren’t at all interesting, but it doesn’t take a lot to distract me. remember that 45lb plate i was putting onto the bar? well, i miscalculated and you see where i’m going with this.
i stood there for a minute, not entirely sure what had happened. i knew plate was no longer in my hands, but it didn’t dawn on me right away that it was lying by, and probably on, my foot. there wasn’t much pain and let me tell you, shock is a blessing. i was actually going to keep going but thought it might be a good idea to head to the bathroom and see if i did any damage.
i did damage.
hello bathroom stall floor, my old friend
if you know me, you know that when i panic, my first instinct is to throw up. this is not all convenient, but a bit more so than when i get car sick and someone else is driving. but this is not a story about that, although i’m sure there’ll be one at some point in the future. i could actually write a whole travelogue of places i’ve had someone pull over because i was going to puke. is there a market for that type of book?
i sat on the floor in a stall and took off my sock and then you guessed it, i started heaving. throughout it all, my biggest concern was getting out of there without anyone noticing. i was literally terrified of having to tell someone or someone noticing. at that point, this was my biggest fear. pride is a funny, and often really stupid, thing.
goddess bless the woman in the next stall who asked if i needed any help for going to get all the stuff i left at the leg press. to this day, i have no idea who she was and am still intensely grateful.
i somehow managed to put my shoe back on, pull myself up, grab my stuff, and hobble quickly out of the locker room and out the door. i cannot express how relieved i was when i got to my car without, i think, anyone knowing what happened. and as most of you know, my car crutches were there waiting for me. and i say again, “who’s rolling their eyes now about carrying crutches around?”
Skip the er, we do x-rays, they say
as luck would have it, or not have it in this case, there is an urgent care right down the street from both the gym and my house. above the door is a big sign that says, “we do xrays.” except, of course, that day.
i got a little testy when the person at the desk kept asking me to get up from where i was sitting to fill out forms. finally, i had them bring to me because come on. at that point, my shoe was off, my little baby balloon foot was bare, and while i did have crutches, there very clearly was a problem.
once that was settled and they got me a wheelchair (which I asked for), the pa, who possibly was experiencing his first day at the clinic, checked out my foot. he was so distressed that it was endearing, and he sent me for an x-ray. he was also concerned that i shouldn’t drive so another hero of the day was my neighbor who came and picked me up and brought me two towns over to advanced radiology.
it’s important to note here that i was planning on going to the er, which is very close, but the pa told me i would have to wait too long there and should go to an outpatient radiology. he did give me a boot so i wouldn’t have to go home to get the one i already had, and with that and the crutches, getting around was relatively easy and barely painful. besides having broken my ankle three times, i knew the drill.
when i got to the outpatient radiology, they took pity on me and even though they were breaking for their hour lunch, they slipped me in. more heroes.
by the time i got back home, the pa had gotten the x-ray results and very strongly suggested i go to the er because my pinky toe was dislocated and would probably have to be set. it was better to do it sooner than later, he said. yes, the same er i had intended to go to in the first place. at least i could drive myself without the watchful, and probably understandably concerned, gaze of the pa.
we’re on co-pay number three if you’re counting.
as i waited at various points in my er trip, i realized that i wasn’t mad to be there. i mean, i was mad at my own stupidity, but since i work at home, alone, it was nice to be around people. yes, i do recognize how pathetic that is. (see coworking blog: “back to the office sort of.”) i was also really thirsty. i mean really, really thirsty. but they wouldn’t give me water in case they had to sedate me to reset my toe. that was literally the most uncomfortable part of the whole injury.
i shattered my arm once and had that reset. if you want to see the x-ray, just ask. i love it showing it off. but i warn you that it is not for the squeamish. anyhow, i’m pretty sure resetting a baby toe would be nothing like that and i could have gone without sedation and with a glass of water. but there was no sedation nor resetting, and later they told me i might have to have pins and rods put in to heal my poor little digit. who has surgery on their baby toe?! as it turns out, luckily, not me.
this pretty much sums up the “incident of the shattered arm”
this is the end . . . or is it?
before i wrap up, another shoutout goes to the woman who wheeled me to the triage on the other side of the hospital after i had the valet park my car because there are only like 3 parking spaces in front of the er. when it was over and i was retrieving my car, she came up to me to make sure i was okay.
overall it took about a month to heal enough to resume my regular activities. that said, my foot is a bit misshapen now, although i’m not sure if it looked like that before because i never really examined my feet.
also, no physical therapy was involved, which is good because i promised my therapists i would not come back injured for at least a year. i’m on a first-name basis with everyone in that orthopedic practice.
for more on the aftermath of the “incident or the pinky toe,” see blog: “oops! i did it again.”
after almost four years of working from home, i worked in an office today. it’s a coworking place right downtown new haven and i’ll go one to two days a week. it was a weird feeling like being at a new job but without the anxiety of starting a new job. the best part is that i have no schedule there and can go and/or leave whenever i want. that said, i’m thankful for my set required working hours because when i freelanced and didn’t have that structure, i was way too distracted. in fact, i really sucked at it.
i think this is a great investment for my mental health and overall wellbeing. let’s take a look at the cons and pros. cons first because, well you know.
CONS
there are people
i probably can’t wear my pj bottoms and sweats
there are endless food choices in walking distance
i may drink entirely too much iced coffee (but really, is that even a thing?)
it’s hard for me to work without my 2nd screen
there are no cats
parking costs money and i had one hell of a learning curve today trying to exit the garage
after work i have to drive home before flopping on the couch
i have to get up even earlier to get to the gym and shower before work (which doesn’t always happen in that order when i work from home)
PROS
there are people
these people are incredibly ambitious and creative
i can wear all those clothes (and shoes!) i bought before covid
there are endless food choices in walking distance
they sell little portable laptop monitors
there are no cats, specifically orange ones, who headbutt my hand and mouse constantly and also try to sit on the laptop
the office has a ton of natural light
it’s in a great part of new haven
it is right next to a good coffee shop and around the corner from elm street market (which is also the door to the parking garage)
on the days i’m there i may actually stop working at the end of work day rather than loosing track of time and the it’s 6pm
if i can’t live in the middle if a city, at least i can work there
back from my follow up. i have a clean break at the base of my pinky toe and it is not really displaced. no restrictions and i should wear the boot to keep my toes in place. which is fine because i feel much more secure right now in the boot. if i hurt a lot, i know i will have overdone it. the doc said that there is nothing they can do, but they also can’t speed up the healing and it takes some time. oh, doctor, my friend, i am well aware of the drill. i go back in a month just to make sure everything is okay, which it should be. there will be a blog in the future recounting this very ridiculous and likely expensive accident. takeaways:
take everything pa’s say with a grain of salt. they mean well, but are not that experienced, can’t tell you anything anyway because of ethics, and just generally want to make sure you are prepared for the worst and that they are covered if worst case scenario does happen, which includes surgery and amputation (the latter was all me, not them).
pay attention when loading up the leg press with 45lb plates, or really any plates.
continue to carry crutches in the car. see how prepared i was there? you’all laughed at me.
they make tiny little baby boots for small kids who have broken their foot. they are adorable and have cartoons on them. they should also make those for adults.
that said, my foot is so swollen it looks like a like a big balloony baby foot.
after running a focus group about griffin hospital years ago and hearing that one man’s friend would rather die on the sidewalk than go inside, and others saying that hospital is where you go to die, i am quite pleased with my care and the friendliness of staff. that said, if anything serious happens to me, take me elsewhere.
Well, I did it. I worked will call at Electric Zoo on Saturday and stayed overnight in the city. Friends, believe me when I tell you that it was a fucking adventure from the minute I even considered going. This is literally a play-by-play so feel free to drop off or skip paragraphs at any time. Think of it as a short story, but either way, I just feel the need to record it.
I would totally do it again.
But not Electric Zoo. And probably not on Randall’s Island. Let me explain.
But before I do, I do want to tell you that the box office staff and the supervisors all did an amazing job in light of all the crap that was happening with the festival. They were all friendly and helpful and they deserve kudos.
Ezoo makes headlines but for the wrong reasons
I’ll just leave these here for you to view when you feel like it, but you get the point even without watching. There’s really not much more I can say except I can just imagine the lawsuits and I’ll be shocked if there is an EZOO next year. People flew in from other countries for this.
For reasons that aren’t that important, I decided that maybe I should just go to the festival rather than work it and stay over. I found a legit Saturday ticket for a great price and while I knew it would be a dick move to back out of working, I wasn’t really concerned with that, which is highly unusual for me. I was concerned, however, with making the person who sent me the opportunity look bad so I made sure that if I backed out that wouldn’t be the case.
But when trying to cancel my hotel room, I learned that trip insurance requires an actual doctor’s note to allow you to cancel due to sickness. Now you know too; you’re welcome. Here I was thinking that even though the room was non-refundable, I could still weasel out of it, which in retrospect was pretty dumb.
And then I saw that they cancelled the festival that day. Rumors were flying and it looked like eventually they’d announce the whole weekend was cancelled.
So I panicked (surprise!) and called my doctor’s office to see if I could get a note to cancel my hotel. Sure, it may not be that ethical, but I did say I didn’t feel well, and this is the same doctor who told me that I needed an echocardiogram because my ekg looked like I might have had a heart attack–but I shouldn’t stress, it was probably nothing more than the tech putting the electrodes in a different place than my last ekg. Where are the ethics there? Anyhow, long story short, after about a month of completely freaking out, I had the echo, my heart is absolutely fine, and she wouldn’t write the note. You win some, you lose some, and I decided that if the fest was cancelled, I would still go to the city, write in cafes while I drank cappuccino like I always dreamed, and hit up the MOMA. There was no way I was wasting the hotel room and the money used to book it.
Saturday and I’m on my way
I made the 8:20 train, iced coffee and bagel in-hand, larger-than-necessary suitcase in tow. Now, in my defense, I always overpack because you never know. And in this case, I had never worked at a festival, so I really didn’t know. Turns out I could have just brought a change of clothes and a toothbrush but live and learn.
It hadn’t totally gone smoothly up until this point because why would it? Did you know that the station ticket machines can run out of tickets? Well, we all know that now. With time to spare, I thought I was buying a round trip ticket to/from Harlem 125th Street. However, when I went to get the ticket, there was nothing there. So figuring I messed up something, I tried again. Still nothing. Some not-really-friendly young guy behind me watched it happen and still tried to buy a ticket from that machine. Guess what he didn’t get?
I tried to get help but the only person I could find was the security guard. She was nice, she looked for the tickets in the ticket slot, but ultimately couldn’t do anything other than stick an “out of order” sign on the machine. She said she’d report it to her supervisor.
When I got on the train, I explained the situation to the ticket guy and showed him the charges on my bank app. He said he’d get me to 125th but after that I’d have to reach out to MTA. Fair enough, and shoutout to that guy.
I tried to reach MTA while I was on the train, but somehow was actually reaching out to Minneapolis Transit, which happened to be closed. I didn’t find out I was reaching out to MN until this morning when I called to follow up. Anyhow, I put a dispute in with my bank and that was that. Just so you know, I only disputed one and a half rides because they did get me to Harlem. I’m brutally honest when it comes to things like that. It doesn’t always serve me well.
I relaxed after that.
When in Harlem…
First, in case you ever need to know, the station at Harlem is a full station and they do have a restroom.
Anyhow, I decided to walk to Randall’s because the footbridge wasn’t too far away, under 2 miles, and I was younger and full of hope then. It was fine, but I knew that was not a walk I would want to do alone at night (keep this in mind). I finally got to the bridge and there, right in front of me, was a huge traffic sign announcing that Electric Zoo was cancelled Sept. 2. Are you fucking kidding me?
I went to the box office group chat and saw that someone had shared a photo of that sign just minutes before. I have no idea where they went after that because they weren’t around. My supervisor had no idea, which wasn’t a surprise because she also wasn’t told they cancelled the day before until she got there. She was actually confused because she was at the box office, people were setting up, and they were doing sound check.
Right then a guy walked up to the bridge, saw the sign, and said, “fuck.” He was also wearing black so I felt like momentary kindred spirits. We decided to walk across the bridge and see what was going on. His name was Mike and it was nice to have the company and good conversation.
We’ve arrived and it’s on
We came up to what I would later learn when I worked there was the west gate. It was clear that things were a go, but they wouldn’t let us in that way. We had to walk probably another mile to the other gate. Still, me and my suitcase were doing fine, and I was ready for anything.
Anything expect that it would be another 4 hours before the festival actually opened because they pushed the start time to 3 rather from 1. So we all sat around and it became apparent that I am old, especially when I didn’t realize you can download a PDF (I9 and W2) to your notes app and made it a fillable document. That said, everyone was pretty friendly and helpful, and one girl in particular helped me with my paperwork. I had to bite my tongue to not tell her repeatedly that I am not computer illiterate in any way, and I just didn’t realize you could do that. But to be fair, it’s a really stupid way to do it and very difficult to type within the text boxes because the formatting is wonky. Why didn’t I print out the paperwork before I went, you ask? Well, I actually went to my neighbor’s and did just that. And then left it on the entertainment center at home.
(LEFT: Looking out from the East Gate box office. RIGHT: Part of the main stage with the NYC skyline in the background. I wish I had gotten this at night. It was gorgeous.)
Finally it was time to get set up and I was called to go up to the west gate with some of the others. So me and my suitcase got ready to head up. I was offered a ride on a golf cart, but not realizing just how far it was and still having energy, I declined. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t partly because of my pride.
On the way there it somehow came up that it was my first festival. I had to clarify that it was my first EDM festival and that I had worked at goth events before, including a fest, although not on the EZOO scale. One very nice and curious young man found this fascinating and said he’d never hear of goth festivals and what kind of music was it–like KISS? Bless his little heart, he was being totally genuine. I tried to list some of the bands that would qualify and if you know me, you know I am terrible on the spot. Even if I know the answers. I blurted out Combichrist and then for the life of me, couldn’t think of anything else. I then shouted Bauhaus, very proud of myself, but still feeling like a moron. The conversation moved on. #poser
Working will call
I really enjoyed it. Despite the fact that people were in line up to 3 hours (it was longer at the other gate), they were still extremely friendly and nice. They thanked us for working the box office and acknowledged that it must have sucked for us being so busy. It didn’t suck though. I thought it was fun and so out of my normal realm of experience.
One funny thing was that every time I was ready for a new person, I would raise my hand. But because I have T-Rex arms, no one saw me and security would have to wave them down.
My only complaint is that we didn’t get any breaks. I mean, if I really needed one, I could have asked, but time was flying and I kept forgetting. The supervisors were running around like maniacs keeping things going smoothly. They were supposed to serve us lunch, but that got messed up too. This was not the supervisors’ faults and they kept brining us snacks and water so we wouldn’t die. Finally, at 9:30pm, the caterers brought a pan of baked ziti. I was so happy to have food, I didn’t care that it was ice cold and you had to scoop it out with your paper plate because there were no serving utensils and two forks or a fork and a knife just didn’t cut it.
We packed up around 10:30 and by that time, I had worked almost 12 hours straight. One of the supervisors came to pick us up in a golf cart, probably because we were carrying our computers and that was a liability, and she took us on a ride through the whole festival behind-the-scenes. This was my favorite part of the whole day, and she was really fun too. This production was massive and fascinating. Soon after that, I was dismissed.
Very unfortunately, I never got to go inside the festival, and this sucks because going inside was one of the major reasons wanted to work there. If I had taken a break, I would have been able to. Or if I went to use the Porta Potties. But the directions to get to the potties confused me and there was no way in hell I was going to use one at a festival with 35,000 people. The other gate had real bathrooms, and I am talking too much about bathrooms in this post. All that said, I really enjoyed interacting with all the attendees. I probably could haven gone to dance once I was dismissed, but that was the last thing I wanted to do.
(Side note: I don’t understand rave outfits. Some of them were cute, some of them were barely there, and some of them were just plain lingerie. Why? And there seems to be a rule that the guys have to take their shirts off, but that wasn’t a huge surprise.)
You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here
Psyche! Leaving Randall’s Island was a fucking mess and my suitcase and I were there for another two hours. First I started walking with the crowd, figuring they were going to the other bridge that took you back to Manhattan. I had no idea how to get back to the Harlem bridge and my GPS wasn’t helping. I kept seeing signs for Queens and had to ask a cop if I was going in the right direction. I wasn’t. So back I went. And then still had to ask more cops how I could get back. I had not expected to be confused about that.
After getting advice form a security guy, I decided I couldn’t walk anymore and joined a whole lot of people at the bus stop. Traffic was delaying the busses and about an hour later, one finally came. It pulled up past the stop, opened its doors, let about 2 people on, and then literally drove away. All while all the rest of us were running toward it.
So we waiting some more. If anyone was willing to find the Harlem bridge with me and walk over, I was all for it at that point. I was sore and exhausted, but I just wanted to get to the hotel. I wasn’t going to do it alone but was more than willing to go with new friends.
Ater a while, the guy behind me yelled, “fuck.” Turns out an app told him the bus wasn’t coming anytime soon. So we all walked to another stop for another bus line that thankfully was very close. Why hadn’t anyone suggested that before?!
Two buses waited for us there and they let us on free of charge. They really just wanted to get the hordes of people off that island and onto the other.
On our way back, I saw a million people crossing the Harlem bridge. If I had known, and also where to find it, I could have done that and escaped much sooner. But the bus was comfortable and I wasn’t mad.
Hello, manhattan
Did you know that there aren’t any cabs in that area of Harlem? I hadn’t planned to take one anyway if I saw people heading down to the subway. And people there were!
I really wanted to take the 6 train but that has a weird schedule, and everyone was getting on the 4. So I did too. It was packed. I had to literally stand on my toes to reach the bar above the seats to hold on to something. At one point, I was able to grab a side bar when a nasty little man yelled at me, “Don’t touch my hand.” I must have brushed it as the train started back up and everyone shifted and are you fucking kidding me? I mumbled an apology thinking it was best to just ignore it. It wasn’t threatening, it was just rude.
If I had taken the 6, I would have gotten off at 51st Street so I did that on the 4. If you’re familiar with the trains, you know the 4 is the Lexington Ave line. I thought I had put in the hotel’s address (538 W 48th Street), and according to my GPS, it was a pretty short walk.
So as I dragged my suitcase up E 48th, I was surprised at the lack of people and cars. I wasn’t alone, but it wasn’t bustling. Of course it was around 1am and that’s not an area filled with bars and restaurants so in retrospect, it makes sense. I didn’t feel unsafe at all because there were some people and cars, and it’s a very nice area, but I wouldn’t suggest taking that walk if you don’t have to.
Even when I got to Times Square it was kind of quiet. Usually, no matter how many times I’ve seen it, Times Square just makes me happy. I find it beautiful. But that night, I was done. I rechecked my GPS and realized that I had only input 48th Street and when I corrected it, I still had 20 minutes to go. I found a cab.
I thought it was weird that the driver asked me to pay with cash or Venmo and he never set the meter, but he got me to the hotel by a straight route and I didn’t care if he was legit or not. I paid by Venmo. He was legit–I learned that sometimes ride shares take out cabs that aren’t being used. What a learning experience this had been!
I love You, Hotel
My room was tiny but very clean and comfortable. I was a little worried when I got there because there was a guy trying to sort out an issue with a room and a girl on the verge of throwing up on the couch. Again, not threatening and we have all been there! I was more upset that I had to wait because I really just wanted to go to bed. And finally, around 2am, it was my turn to check-in.
Look, more bathroom talk!
Oh hi, sunday, you came quick
By the time I got to the hotel, I had decided I wasn’t going back to EZOO. I was done. I felt bad and I think it was because the trip back to the hotel was just so long and involved walking, a bus, a train, and a cab. Oh my!
After missing the complimentary breakfast, I tried to shower. I actually had to Google how to turn on the shower because there was no lever to pull. Here is the video in case you are even in that situation. If I was paying attention when I checked in, I would have noticed there was an actual model of the tub spout with instructions on how to use the shower right there on the counter.
I decided I would make the most of being in NYC for the morning and with suitcase in one hand (it did roll) and terrible room-made coffee in the other, I headed toward Times Square. A man who I thought was Steve from SITC smiled at me and said hello. He was not Steve. He asked if I was running away from home, but not in a creepy way, and I responded that I was actually running to home this time. We chatted for a moment, and he wished me a safe trip.
At that point, my body decided we needed a cab and to go straight to Grand Central. Of course, nothing is that easy and when I went to buy another ticket to get home, the machine told me that my purchase was not authorized, and I should call my bank. I figured it was because I had a dispute in with that company.
Then I panicked. For whatever reason for the first time ever, I didn’t have a credit card on me and I thought maybe my whole account was frozen, although I had just used it for a cab. How was I going to get home? I was, however, able to buy a ticket online and even get a vegan bagel sandwich (called The Hot and Heavy for some reason) and iced coffee before hopping on the 11:34 train.
As we passed the 125th Street station, I considered getting off and going to work. But then I remembered the walk and the getting out of there, and I decided to nap instead.
I slept the rest of the day and most of Monday.
Let’s face it, i’m old
You can say age is just a number all you want, but frankly, that’s just not true.
Everyone was so young at the festival, which is not unexpected. I totally stuck out, but once the crowds came in, it didn’t bother me. I am in shock at how nice those kids were. Some asked my name, many thanked me, even more commented on my tattoos. They were just friendly even after their 3-hour wait. That’s not to say there weren’t any problem people, I was just lucky enough not to get any.
I’m kind of mad at myself for not going back. I did enjoy working and had I gone Saturday, I probably would have been able to actually spend some time in the festival. But my body just wouldn’t allow it. And really, it’s on me for being cheap and picking a hotel so far away. And for thinking that you can take a subway to pretty much any block in Manhattan. You can’t. But really, when it comes to festivals and hanging out with kids in their 20s, those days are over.
The moral of the story is…
There is no moral. I got out of my comfort zone and did something I really wanted to do. I’m really glad I did.
Would I do it again? Maybe.
Would I do it again on Randall’s Island? Not likely.
Do I still want to go to EDC? Absolutely, but only for a day and as an attendee.
Did it take me hours to write this? Sure did and now I’m going to bed. If there are typos, so be it. I’m exhausted.
Hi, I'm Gia. 