Part of what I enjoy about my job is the random things I have to do sometimes. Case in point, my visit to Vermont. When my boss emailed asking who would want to do it, I was a bit hesitant. As I said, I had been ill for a week and really needed to rest and take care of myself, not to mention the fact that I was going to the LCD sound system show the night before and I was sure I wasn’t going to get much sleep before the 4 hour drive up the I-87 N… but then again, I enjoy getting shit done (and I was quite certain no one else would), and I figured that other than this, why else would I go to Vermont?! Surely not to take advantage of gay marriage.
So I woke my ass up, managed to put some pants on, leashed my dog, and stumbled my way to the local coffee/smoothie shop for a hang over friendly liquid concoction and a bagel. Then I met up with my road trip buddy (btw I’m avoiding names in all of my posts on purpose) who was waiting outside my building, and we cabbed it to the U-Haul place by the navy yard.
I have to admit, my stomach was killing me. I wanted to puke. The smoothie wanted to creep out of me any way possible (and it did at the U-Haul center bathroom… guilty). We hopped on the van and started our way. Me and my road trip buddy, who we shall call Titi, didn’t really know each other, but I’m quite confident in my easy goingness so after a few minutes we were chit chatting about this, and about that, freaking out about the road (we weren’t legally allowed to be on anything labeled “parkway”), singing along to bad music (mostly 90’s bad exercise tunes), and just having a jolly good time (like road trips should be!).
We made a couple of pit stops delighting ourselves in pure, uninhibited Americana. I ate some chain fast food fried grossness (not the best for my ailing intestines), drank about enough redbull to kill a small ferret, and chewed on enough pepto bismol tablets to permanently lacquer my duodenum in pink. The road was beautiful. Quite different from California (where I’ve partaken in plenty a road trips).
We finally arrived at Vermont. Bennington to be precise. Right off the bat I thought: “Man! this is the inspiration for the set in all those “middle of nowhere” slasher films. I’m glad I’m here!” Met up with the artist (reason why I had to drive to Vt in the first place), and just delved into the daily duties.
I won’t bore you with the tasks at hand. Lots of loading and unloading art supplies and art work.
Finally, a few more hours than what I expected, me, Titi, and Mr. American Gothic, started our trek back home. The ride was great. I was decidedly worried that I was going to pass out mid-drive and manage to crash and kill the three of us and destroy thousands of dollars in art, but Mr. AG and titi were great conversationalists, and I was just even more happy I took on the task of going to Vermont.
We arrived at the gallery at around 11:30 pm. We unloaded the van and proceeded to grab some drinks at my usual Sunday night spot, the Griffin. I am not a huge fan of this place, nor is it the kind of bar I would recommend, much less to Mr. AG, but after the long day, we just needed to kill some overworked brain cells. We didn’t stay long, the place closes early. After that, I convinced them to come with to Greenhouse where we managed to get ourselves completely sloshed and somehow, at around 3ish in the morn, we all ended in our respective beds safe and sound.
Another night. Another drink. Another job assignment.