Carly: You should come up and see me when I'm in Chicago!
Me: You mean, at the shoot?! At a show?! Okay, that sounds like fun. I'll try and come.
Or maybe the conversation actually went something like this:
Carly: So I think I'm going to be doing a shoot in Chica....
Me: I'll be there! Can I crash on your floor?!?
I'm never quite sure if I invite myself to these things or just assume I am being invited. I mean, I'm a fun guy, right? Who wouldn't want me to tag along on their various road trips, family gatherings, bachelorette parties, etc. I have a unique skill set that makes me invaluable in any social situation or event:
- I can talk to anyone, and will in fact, in all honesty, probably lie in order to have something in common with whomever I am speaking. ("Oh, you were a Vietnam Prisoner of War, too!? Those Vietcong sure can make a mean bamboo prison, can't they?!" [good natured chuckle, har har, slap on the back]).
- Given enough drink, I will perform any number of tasks, from scaling tall objects (such as trees or corporate art) to throwing my body into traffic to hail a taxi. ("Buy Jommy another shot...it's raining and I don't want to get wet waiting for a cab"). Hours of entertainment, I am...like a rubix cube or a smartphone in the hands of an elderly person.
- I will never turn down food, especially if it's free. Or a day-old. Or you found it under the seat of your car. Moms love me for this reason. ("Oh my, he ate everything!; he even made a tiny sandwich out of the decorative parsley. That poor, starving boy," they say, feigning worry, but are secretly thrilled that they have found someone to try out their new "tuna fish and broccoli lasagna" recipe on.)
- I can sleep anywhere, on anything, and most likely will pass out somewhere you think is strange or uncomfortable - like on the stone fireplace hearth or in the bathtub - before you have time to blow up the air mattress. My mind is young and virile, but my ability to slip into a shallow coma at a moment's notice is parallel to an 80 year-old man with narcolepsy.
And so (due largely because of my ability to get her a taxi, I suspected), Carly invited me or I invited myself or whatever...the point is that I decided to go to Chicago to hang out with her and see her at her "work." The reason I place "work" in quotation marks is because, to almost anyone else in the entire world, her job would be considered an acceptable prize for the winner of a sweepstakes or a radio contest:
Radio Announcer: Congratulations! You are the 184th caller! You win a chance to travel around the country, all expenses paid, attending shows, festivals, and glamorous events, all while interviewing students and celebrities and looking amazing on camera!
Caller 184 (in raspy smoker's voice and thick backwoods drawl): Ohmygod ohmygod omygod!!! Jesper! Pack yer sheee-iiiit! Werr goinnuh SHEEE-CA-GO!!!!"
Carly, see, is an MTVU Veejay. Her job - though it goes against my long-held definition that a job should be funless, inglorious, and generally soul-sucking - is to be a rockstar at cool-ass events in cities all over this great country. And somehow, she has managed to trick someone into paying her for this! [In all fairness, she is really good at her job. Like, sometimes, even though we are friends, I get the overwhelming urge to ask her for her autograph]. She is, in my estimation, the closest thing I have ever witnessed to "success"; success being defined, of course, not by money or possessions or status, but instead by being truly happy and excited to be doing something that you genuinely love to do. She is a rare case, an endangered species, an anomaly. She is living out her dreams. And for this reason, in her presence I am in awe...
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The new day's air is cutting as it leaks in through the cracks in the moulding around my windows making my room chillier than is desirable or comfortable. The light spills through the glass raw and grey, pooling on the hardwood floors. I pack my bag hurriedly, not wanting to miss the bus that is waiting to take me North, through the farms and small towns of America's Heartland, then into the suburbs which grow with each mile, resembling the "Evolution of Man" posters in science classrooms; crawling, stooping, walking, sprinting and finally...Chicago. The pinnacle of man's existence. I am nervous. By late afternoon I will be in wandering the streets of the city, and by tomorrow I will be at a concert because of a beautiful girl, trying too hard to make her laugh because it's all I have to offer as repayment. I will be contraband, an illegal alien, she will sneak me in through the side door when no one is watching. I will not be seen, only a grateful shadow on the wall, an illusion made between light and not-light, basking just outside the soft glow of everything. I will look on, and the music will roll me like waves...
I am ready. (I am completely unprepared)....
[Author's note: if you want to know more about Carly, you can follow her here: http://wecouldgrowuptogether.tumblr.com/ Or, you know, just watch her on television. Link below for those too lazy to cut and paste.]
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