Bourbon and bodily fluids

It is of no interest to anyone (least of all me) to detail how the conference went (although it was generally quite good, edifying and enjoyable - seeing old friends). However, I need to make note of a few incidences of what Alicia so aptly calls, "surrealismo total"!



My taxi ride Friday morning from hotel, paper neatly printed at Kinko's in my hands, and legs smoothly shaven, shoes, professional, dress, modest, was the first case. I am waiting and waiting in front of the Sheraton Suites, trying to avoid the smokers that seem to follow me from one side of the entryway to the other. I wait five minutes, ten. I enter, the concierge calls, stuck in traffic, I am told.

Hmm. Ok, though there doesn't seem to be traffic, and cars come in and leave and I scan the horizon for a car that might be a taxi. I see a few dumpy ones pull in, pull out, and I think to myself, well, at least the taxi will be a sterile space. But no. Twenty minutes later a clunky mini-van pulls up with a driver that would rival SNL's "Pat" window open smoke billowing out.
S/he does not open the door, but apologizes for having misunderstood the "code". I make my way around trash, sit gingerly in the seat, smile politely. I have waited 30 minutes, I am not going to call another cab and wait again. There are day-old donuts hanging from the front dash, candy wrappers and ashes spread around the rows of seats in small cups. I read the sign plastered to the window. All taxis are private contractors, but the best, the best, is the sign hanging from the passenger-side sun-visor. See below:

So I offered this person a thoughtful analysis of international economic policies that promote the (illegal) flow of workers from South to North (read: criminal exploitation and unequal export/ import practices as a start) after she asked why certain countries south of the border didn't create jobs for their people... And I did my best not to spill any of my bodily fluids on the ultra-clean car.

Later, in the University of Kentucky bathroom, (as we know I am incapable of not reading all printed material on the wall) I am flabbergasted by the posting that follows:



Sponsored by the university's health center, no less! What kind of information is this?!!!! The MAJORITY of the cases occur in homosexual men? In the 80's, maybe, but now? WTF? And your best policy is abstinence? And god forbid you should drink too much bourbon (for example), and get kinky because kinky sex will give you cooties, didn't you know? You might get crazy, dance on a table and let someone rip into the tender flesh of your anus. (And of course, by divine castigation transmit that "bad people's disease") I don't know whether to laugh or cry. So I just take pictures instead.

But my punishment came later that night, after Alicia, Ignacio, Ricardo and I partook of bourbon in the Radisson's lobby, when I tried to call for a taxi to take me home. We called from Alicia's phone, but the man told me I couldn't wait for the taxi outside, lest I take the wrong one. I suggested that he tell me the name of the driver and have the driver ask for me to solve this problem, because the phone I was using was not my own. He agreed, but then I saw the car pass without stopping and we realized that the cab company had called. I called back. "I'm sorry ma'am," he says, unapologetically, "you weren't there."
"Yes, I was, waiting, right where I told you, I saw your driver pass me."
"No you weren't."
"Yes, I was."
"Well I'm very sorry but you'll just have to flag a taxi down, because I can't send you one, since you don't have a phone."
"But I am calling you on a phone."
"Well you didn't answer. I'm sorry, have a good night."
"..." I turn to my friends who are equally speechless.

Surrealismo strikes again!
Then I am bemusedly asking the concierge to help me, and he calls for a cab, we see one pull up, and I go out to ask if I can flag him, and it is MY DRIVER, the one who was sent in the first place, asking if I am going to the Sheraton, after his asshole boss told me in essence to fuck myself. I gave up, and went home to sleep it off.

Just like I am going to sleep off the multiple mint juleps that Ricardo and I shared over (a really spectacular) dinner at Dudley's after a lesson in the finer points of bourbon from the barman...Crab cakes, baby filets (Kentucky raised and slaughtered), asparagus and bearnaise...