Bus Running and Burlesque

Earlier this week I went to a burlesque troupe orientation with my Adventure Friend. We were not entirely sure what to expect from the evening, but came away (well, I did) completely intrigued by the whole fascinating subculture and eager to learn more.  These are the people I need to be making space for in my life. They remind me a lot of the people I knew in Pittsburgh, mainly because they remind me of roller derby people and Rachael (whose name is in this blog but hasn't written since 2010) is a roller derby person and collects like-minded people, all of whom made up the majority of the worthwhile people I know in the city. In any case, I felt quite at home with the loudness, the scatteredness, the constant crafting throughout the meeting, and the vivid personalities. There is a lot more to burlesque than dancing--it seems to be a lifestyle. I admit I am unlikely to be willing to take on a whole new lifestyle that involves glue guns and sewing and creating a stage persona with a clever pun, but I feel compelled to go at least a little further and find some way to fit into this seductive world. 

In any case, while burlesque COULD end up being a Poor Decision, so far everything is going well and I am not terribly concerned. The real poor decision in all this, is what happened AFTER the meeting. 

Originally, I had planned to stay the night with Adventure Friend, because the meeting was late and it is a long trajectory home complete with metro changes (OR SO I THOUGHT!) and we all know that at the end of the metro line, there is that bus I have to catch that I always say I'm going to stop running after. But it turned out, the middle of nowhere place we had our meeting was in fact on my metro line. And we left the meeting with JUST enough time that I thought, "I could probably make the last bus home....."  

I decided to go for it. 

I arrived at my metro stop at 10:33. The bus leaves at 10:35. I decided to make my last stand in the face of hopeless pointlessness and run for it.  Many of you are aware of the layout of my metro station, but for those of you who are not, it looks something like this:  there is a long platform along which the train stops. At the far end of the platform is a normal sized escalator that leads to an upper platform where the exit gate is. Once you exit, there is a short walk to a HUGE GIGANTIC TERRIBLE ESCALATOR OF DOOM that looms above your head and makes novices dizzy.  At the top of THAT escalator, there is another platform to cross, not TOO long but long enough if you are in a hurry, that leads to a THIRD escalator, which is a normal sized one.  That escalator leads you out into the night, and a short walk down the sidewalk leads you to the bus.

Unfortunately, I had not strategically positioned myself on the train properly so I had to sprint the length of the platform before sprinting up the first escalator, sprinting along the upper platform and then sprinting up the GIGANTIC escalator.

I am not a very physically fit person, I hadn't had a whole lot to eat, I don't sleep well, it was late, it was not a good time but I DID IT.  I sprinted hardcore up that entire escalator without looking back.  

 

Be amazed.

At some point I registered vaguely that there was a person following close behind me, but I did not have the time to stop and consider this. I was doing spectacularly. It was 10:34. I was a machine. I'd never felt so proud in my life. I arrived at the end of the escalator, adrenaline high, breathing heavily, and started the sprint up the third, final escalator. 

I nearly made it.

I was a little over halfway up when I tripped on my boots and took a hard fall on my right knee. I tried not to put my hands down because I didn't want my fingers getting sucked and squished in the moving crevices of the escalator. That's when I became more aware of the presence behind me.  

"ARE YOU OKAY???????" said an extremely concerned male voice.  But there was no time for niceties! The clock had just changed to 10:35! If I didn't make these FINAL FEW STEPS all would be in vain!!!!  "I'm FINE," I said, as I hauled myself up in great  pain using the banister. I took a step forward and my legs gave out from under me. The sprinting had made me too weak to even stand. I fell down even harder this time, on both knees, and in the shock of it all I lost total control and reeled sideways, smashing my face against the side of the escalator, knocking my glasses frames out of shape and off my face, and hurting my head.  

"OH MY GOD!" said the poor startled man behind me. Again, I just said, "I'M FINE!" even though I was not at ALL fine, I was in terrible agony in every part of my body and soul, AND on top of it all COMPLETELY humiliated.  I believe it is worth noting at this point, for reasons that will become more clear later, that the guy was was likely in his mid to late 20s, fairly attractive (the attractive part is irrelevant, but I will mention it anyway), and hispanic. 

I continued the race up the final two stairs, having gotten up JUST in time not to face disaster at the end of the escalator, and arrived in the night air to see the bus, lights on, doors opening, waiting. 

"THANK GOD!" I shouted aloud, not caring how insane I looked at this point. Dignity was already gone forever. 

At that moment, the bus closed its doors, turned off its lights, and drove away.

"FUCK EVERYTHING!!!!!!"" I shouted waving my fists.  I didn't think I had it in me to chase it, and I knew it was completely futile. 

BUT THEN

the stranger behind me TORE past me at a truly impressive pace, completely destroying my pride in my sprinting skills, and ran across the bus area, clearly intending to head the bus off as it rounded the far corner. In this pivotal moment, I was faced with a choice. Did I a) fuck it all and stay perfectly still and wait alone in the cold darkness for 30-45 minutes? or did I b) suck in a lungful of air, let two tears escape my watery eyes, and run as fast as I could after the stranger?

I ran.

I made it JUST behind the stranger, who got on the bus, but as I started to step forward, the bus driver shut his doors, nearly snapping my nose. I pounded on the door. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!! PLEASE DO NOT DO THIS TO ME!!!"  The stranger said something to the driver, who opened his doors.  "THANK YOU!!!!!"

I staggered erratically down the bus aisle and collapsed in a heap right behind the stranger, who asked again, "ARE YOU OKAY?????"
At this point I had time to be friendly, so I heaved, "Oh yes, perfectly all right! Completely humiliated! But that is not new!"
He laughed, hesitantly and concernedly. We sat quietly for a few minutes before he spoke again. 

"I am sorry I scared you!"
"Scared me? Oh no, it was great the way you ran for the bus! I would never have made it without you. And if I hadn't made it after all that....I would have just laid down and died."
"No, I mean in the metro. When you were running away from me."

The guy thought I'd been RUNNING AWAY FROM HIM that whole time!! I was struck with horror. 

"RUNNING AWAY FROM YOU???"
"Yes..."
"NO! I was running for this bus!!! Oh my god....I am so sorry! I just wanted to catch this bus!!"
"Oh! Good. I wanted to help you up when you fell but I was afraid if I touched you, you would think it was an attack."

I have never felt more horrible in my life. This poor guy was trying not to frighten me, but also couldn't stop running because he needed to catch the bus too!

We had a laugh and a chat, and eventually I had to admit that I didn't even take the bus very far, just a mile, and I got off and hobbled home and I am in copious amounts of pain.  

I really need to stop running after that goddamn bus. 

Physical Training, Physical Torture

Several weeks ago I went to a training session for some kind of medieval euro MMA along with my friend Julia, in a dinner-theater place in Alexandria, Virginia.  The people running it are....interesting.  They told us the following story.....

Long ago in the middle ages knights in certain areas of Europe (Britain??) were taught a unique and distinct fighting style, mixed martial arts combined with swordplay, and it was the deadliest, most effective, efficient combat style in all the land and it was SUPER SECRET such that no one would write down the moves lest the information fall into the hands of the enemy. And so the art was passed down, generation to generation, until eventually it was lost forever as there was no written record. 
Then one day about 10 years ago a woman up in her attic cleaning out things discovered a series of drawings and diagrams which turned out to be an instruction manual on this secret deadly art of combat--someone had illicitly written it down after all and hidden it away for hundreds of years! Anyway, after the drawings surfaced, they attracted a small but cultish following of men and women set on learning this most incredible of all mixed martial arts.  

These people have come across some money, and are investing in a building somewhere possibly in Virginia that they plan to turn into a medieval military training facility where students will be taught the lost art and trained from childhood to adulthood in the ways of battle, chivalry, and honor on a quest for glory and possible world domination. Their vision for this school appears to be much like marine corps training, and only the best, the most fit, the most brilliant will graduate after years of training and testing in both physical and mental arenas.  Graduates of the program will earn KNIGHTHOOD, a most high and esteemed honor granted to a very select and superior few.

Obviously they are going to need instructors for their school, and since there aren't a whole lot of people with background in this particular area, they need to get creative. And so they advertised these free training sessions in order to train a small but elite fighting force that they will eventually hire in full and part time positions at the battle school.  At the end of training, they will review us and determine who the best are, and who they wish to hire on as instructors of KNIGHTS.

After this whole explanation I already began to feel a little concerned about my presence there, but mostly it was just fascinating.  There were 6 of us, plus the leader man, plus his 2 knights there to train the rest of us in knightly pursuits.  Three were men, 2 aged about our age and 1 aged about 40, and then me Julia and a girl our age.  The leader, or "Duke," told Lady Jennifer to take the rest of us "out to the alley" for "PT" which at this point I can only assume stands for Physical Torture.  

When I heard "out to the alley" I raised my hand and inquired, "We will be....outside?"
I received only stares of contempt. 

So I put on my ankle length gigantic puff coat, wrapped my scarf around my face, whined a lot at Julia, and headed outside to the alleyway behind the restaurant.  Upon arrival, I was told to start running, just to "warm up."  So off we went running around Alexandria in the cold winter night air, me in my giant coat and the others in sensible running wear like sweatshirts and those stylish headbands.  

After running a quarter mile, which is more than I have run in 10 years, we returned to our alley where I attempted not to cry.  Lady Jennifer, who was not winded, thought for a moment and said, "Okay, just to warm up....do 20 pushups, sprint to the end of the alley, when you get there do 20 squats, sprint back, do 20 scissor kicks, sprint back, do 20 jumping jacks and I guess we'll go from there."

I raised my hand. "What's a scissor kick?"
I received stares of contempt.  

I had to get down in the alleyway in my coat with my scarf still wrapped around my face and do pushups.  I only did 11 and then acted like I'd done 20 and sprinted off to do the squats.  Which are hard to do in that coat! I really did not have freedom of movement....
Eventually by watching others I discovered that scissor kicks are when you lie on your back and kick your legs up and down straining all of your muscles until you start to cry. I did not want to lie down in the alley but I was also already humiliated enough, so I did. 

After finishing THAT, Lady Jennifer had us do a minute of planking, which I will not even describe to you but it is basically horrifying. And also involves lying down in the alley. 

Remember also it is FEBRUARY OUTSIDE.  

I have never been more unhappy.  

Eventually we did get to learn a bit of the swordplay which was super awesome, but we were STILL OUTSIDE so I was still very unhappy.  It was pretty interesting though....in some ways very similar to fencing but of course in other ways extremely different.  

Only 15 minutes into sword lessons in the back alley, I turned to Julia and said, "I'm going home."  

I left her there. 

And that is my medieval European mixed martial arts experience. Julia is continuing on, and perhaps can continue telling us tales about the weirdness. 

Ovens

Every once in awhile I forget that you cannot take a pan out of an oven with your bare hands.

Virginia

Most of you are familiar with my infinite hatred of Virginia. I am big enough to admit right now that about 30% of my hatred is irrational. But Virginia does have some serious, real issues.  For example, they have a habit of closing entrances to major roads or put up road block signs, or tear out entire sections of important roads and then NOT PUT UP DETOUR SIGNS. Just the ominous ROAD CLOSED signs.

Can Virginia not AFFORD detour signs? Do they think it's FUNNY? I personally do NOT think it is funny, because I have the same conversation over and over again, alone in my car.

RoadBlockSign: YOU SHALL NOT PASS.
Me: Are you KIDDING ME? This could have been so simple. Where am I supposed to go now?
RoadBlockSign: DON'T CARE, MOTHERFUCKER. THIS IS VIRGINIA WHERE NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR WELL-BEING.
Me: All right punk, I'm just going to take out my GPS and find a new road! Because I am an ADULT!
GPS: Acquiring satellite.
Me: That's cool, I'll just sit here parked in front of this stranger's house while you take your time. No rush.
GPS: Acquring satellite.
Me: You do what you gotta do, I'll just continue wasting my $4.20/gallon gas while you mess around in space.
GPS: Acquiring satellite.
Me: Are you fucking serious???
GPS: You're so funny when you're mad. All right, head straight.
Me: No, that's the road block. That's why I turned you on.
GPS: I really think we should go straight.
Me: We cannot go straight. This is my problem.
GPS: We can run right over this thing, it's not very high.
Me: I am not doing that.
GPS: No, we can take it. A Toyota Camry is very much like a tank.
Me: This is bullshit. I'm just going to drive off in a random direction for awhile until you recalculate.
GPS: I wouldn't do that if I were you.
Me: Watch me.
GPS: Oh, it's on bitch. It's on. Recalculating.
Me: I WIN
GPS: Make a right.
Me: That makes NO sense, we want to go the opposite direction. Why on earth would we turn right?
GPS: I have a good feeling about it.
Me: Just like you had a good feeling about Wilmington, Delaware??
GPS: Just like that.
Me: Oh no no no no no no. I'm going left, recalculate THAT.
GPS: Now you've done it.

And then of course I'm stuck wandering in circles around US-66 or US-29 or Virginia Avenue as my GPS beats me into submission so that it can take me backwards and forwards with evil glee up and down the same eight blocks of the same goddamn road JUST FOR FUN.  All because VIRGINIA can't put up some damn DETOUR SIGNS. And this ALWAYS happens in the middle of the night where you can't even go the old fashioned route of stopping at a gas station for directions.

Fucking Virginia.