Let me first say, to all the new readers who have not been along for the full ride of the BlissQuest – I am a professional writer. While I reserve the right to leave wriggle room in definitions the fact remains that I have been writing for 15 years, published a book, completed 2 screenplays, interviewed dozens of people and spent a good deal of time as a freelance writer for internet and magazine articles. I’m a networker, a writer, photographer, actress and all-round storyteller and while I reserve the right to embellish details from time to time – One thing I am not is a liar. So let me first state clearly and firmly – I am not a writer for the New York Times. I write for whomever will pay me – or for whichever projects intrigue me or start a fire of passion inside my spirit.
Lying doesn’t sit well with me. Stretching the truth a bit, sure – but blatant misrepresentation… not really my thing. I like to play by the “what you see is what you get” but perhaps with a little creative twist.
All that being said, I am also an adventurer and I do admit strange things happen with astonishing frequency in my generally vicinity – and I have just learned to roll with the awkward punches and find a way to come out of it all with an awesome story to tell.
Thusly stated, here is the current clusterfuck I find myself in – and frankly, while it’s an awesome funny story and I have no idea how it will end – it has challenged my sense of self in a humorous anxiety provoking way.
Without Further ado:
Kane was headlining at Dante’s and I sat in the corner with small expectations while waiting for Sinferno to start. Kane being billed as “a little bit of country” wasn’t the draw, and they were already 40 minutes late to the stage.
I reached over and introduced myself to the two people sharing a table only to discover they were off the Navy vessel parked at the waterfront. Corina, a beautiful, tall Pilipino woman with full sleeve tattoos and outweighing me with a solid 40 lbs of pure muscle,
asked why I was sitting alone and we began lamenting about my lack of a dating life when Kane finally took the stage.
I was sold on their first song. My interest piqued and I leaned forward pulled by the music. A little bit of country to be sure- but more rock, more attitude and certainly less dissonance and before I knew it I was totally sucked in.
During that time the cast and crew of the TV show ‘Leverage’ filled up the three tables next to us with fans, music, and drinks – the entire Portland crowd was totally eating it all up.
Corina announced that she thought Christian Kane, the lead singer was a hottie. In the spirit of wishing our fleet a happy Portland visit, I ordered a round of drinks for the band in Corina’s name on my tab.
“But I have a boyfriend!” She insisted.
“Just because you’re on a diet doesn’t mean you can’t look at the menu. Welcome to
Portland, you just bought a hottie and his band some drinks. Cheers.”
We toasted with my bourbon and two glasses later she became really intense. “Don’t you think he’s cute?”
I shrugged, “Well, sure. I guess so; it’s hard to see his face behind his hair. But yeah, he’s cute. I really like his voice.”
“You wanna meet him?” She asked.
Yeah, right, I thought. Meet Christian Kane? Movie star, musician, all around famous individual probably crazy busy and uninterested in meeting strangers etc.
“Sure.” I said rolling my eyes and sipping my drink.
“No. Seriously. You want to meet him?”
I looked at Corina and she bored her semi-drunken gaze into me, “I can make it happen I just need you to say you want me to.” Even though she could easily be a model with her beauty, there was no mistaking the air of power and her presence combined with biceps that could make Xena look like a school-girl – I was intrigued.
I narrowed my eyes, “Ooookay, sure.”
“Really?” She asked with searing intensity.
“Okay. Why not?” I said, thinking she was really drunk and it wouldn’t hurt to humor a well-meaning woman who could break my spine with her pinky.
She jumped up from the table and disappeared into the crowd and I sincerely hoped she didn’t get hurt or get thrown out.
The band wrapped up and I resolved to add them to my iTunes maybe even pick up their CD and check out their ballads. At the end of my second bourbon, Corina emerged from the edge of the crowd with a large sweaty man in tow. She marched him up to me and I thought for a moment she found someone she wanted to try and play matchmaker with when she introduced us.
“Athena, this is Eric. He’s the band manager for Kane.” She grinned wickedly in my direction and added, “Eric, this is Athena, she’s the writer from the New York Times I told you about and she wants to do an article on the band and interview Mr. Kane.”
Be still my spastic colon, for I almost fell off my bar stool. I felt every word I know in the English language tangle into knots and out of sheer panic and terror I stretched my hand out and said, “Hi, I’m Athena.”
There is a special place in hell for people like me. Did I contradict her in front of the gentleman? No. Did I speak up and admit to the deception? No. Instead, I rambled like a moron for a few minutes, asked questions out of habit from all the interviews I’ve done – the whole time my mind screamed “He fucking thinks you work for the NY Times! Say something!” But did I? No. Did I stand up and admit there was a prank going on? No.
And do you know why? Because, ultimately, I AM A WRITER. Corina’s funny prank and well meant intentions opened up a door for me that I would have never had the balls to do for myself. Her bold challenge to the Universe on my behalf may very well have made a crack in a chance that if I’m smart – I will pursue with honesty and vigor to not only chase a good story, but use my skills to do something that would put me one step closer to my goal of being a self-supporting artist.
I took his information and agreed to call the next day and book the interview (secretly I just needed time to think about what to do). That night I managed to barely sleep a wink for all the sound of Corina’s laughter in my head all night.
To be continued….
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