Back From Inferno

Here's the précis: Inferno had it's moments, but they were few and far between. But Tear Down rocked.

First the drive out.

I got all bent out of shape with my packing. On my way back from putting yet another pair of boots in the jeep, I'd think of something else to bring, and something else, and something else. So instead of 7:00 p.m., it was more like ten when i finally finished up and went to bed. And so I overslept some, not managing to hit the road until 3 a.m. Regardless, my evil plan worked perfectly. I made great time in the middle of the night, and had almost made it all the way across Pennsylvania before the sun came up.

Pennsylvania is a beautiful part of the country. The early morning mist on the mountains, all those blackbirds by the side of the road, the meadows dotted with goldenrod... it was pretty wonderful.

A few times, I tried to rouse the interest of truckers with the "left turn signal gambit": according to hot tub guy, in Florida, if you want sex on the interstate, you drive with your left turn signal on for no reason. When you notice someone else with the left turn signal on, you pull into the next rest stop and there ya go! Trucker sex! But apparently that only works in Florida. (Let's change that, okay?)

Just past the half-way point on the Ohio Turnpike, I had my first Starbucks. And not a moment too soon.

That venti triple pumpkin spice latte lasted me until Indiana, when I stopped again. Although there was lots of eye candy in Ohio, there was not one single hot man in Indiana. From what I saw, the entire state of Indiana has let themselves go. That could be their motto: "Indiana -- Let Yourself Go!"

Of course, neither Ohio nor Indiana are particularly interesting to drive through. Flat flat flat. Michigan, however, is beautiful. Driving through Michigan I always remember Hemingway's "Nick Adams Stories," which I read so many years ago, about a young man traumatised by war taking off into the woods of northern Michigan to heal.

With almost perfect timing, I made it to the Top Secret Location, registered, and found my room.

I was unpacking when the phone rang. It was hot tub guy. Crying. Just balling. He had taken a bike ride and fallen off his bike. He was hurt bad. And hurting. Panicking. Blood everywhere. A four inch piece of flesh hanging off his elbow. I did my best to get him to go to the ER to get patched up, advising him to go knock on neighbors doors till he found someone at home to drive him. Unfortunately, giving this a try, he caught his toes in the industrial steel door to his apartment. More blood. More pain. He called me back to report.

I called him later to check up. No answer. Texted him the next morning. Finally he called. He had taken some sleeping pills and passed out as soon as he hit the bed. He woke up the next morning in blood soaked sheets, made it to work where he was patched up in the infirmary or whatever.

And then he thanked me for being there when he called. Hanging on the phone with him. And of all the people in the world, he called me.

Me.

But enough about hot tub guy. Let's get back to Inferno.

Although I never really did get back to Inferno.

No I didn't.

I kept thinking about hot tub guy.

*sigh*

Sunday night, the first night of Inferno, I sort of wandered around, seeing who was there. And who wasn't. And there were a lot of people who weren't there. roadkill, Alpha...

One of my roommates was making his first Inferno. A swet guy from LA. I did my best to pass on some pearls of wisdom, trying to remember what had worked for me my first Inferno. And I gave him a tour: this is the raunch tent, this is the whipping tent, this is the

So nothing happened. Around midnight, I decided to call it a night.