Gas Prices Have Hit $3.159 In Cowtown

Monday was up too early and sitting on my ass too long. I actually showed up at the airport two hours early, 4:30 in the morning, just in case. I spent over an hour waiting to board the plane. That sucked.

There was a layover in Houston. I had quite a march from one terminal to the other. On the way I counted four(!) ‘Bucks and saw a goofy statue of Bush the first, made of bronze, with a flutter tie and a jacket sticking straight out behind him. Crazy.

I sat near a guy who was scared of flying on the way into Pittsburgh. I know how lucky I was to have his wife sitting between us. When we got further east and flew over a huge cloudbank, he started to freak out a little. “Can you see the land?” he asked me. (I sat by the window on all my flights.) The clouds stretched out as far as I could see and when I answered, he paled. When we stared to make our landing run, his eyes were glued on the window and he was squeezing his wife’s hand.

I got off the plane on time and didn’t see Heels. So I went to where I thought she might been. She wasn’t there. Ten or fifteen minutes later, I went back into the building and walked to the escalator I came down and heard my name called. And there she was, looking pregnant, but not quite finished, we’ll know when the baby’s done when her belly button pops like a turkey timer. That’s my theory, at least.

We headed back to her and Johnny Logic’s place for pizza (I requested no mushrooms and was informed that in Pittsburgh all pizza places put canned(!) mushrooms on their pizzas.) and much talking.

Let me say, I had three goals for my weekend with them: 1. Spend time with Johnny Logic and Heels. 2. Give them my baby gift. 3. Visit the Warhol Museum.

Saturday, I woke up early, which surprised me. (Maybe everyone else?) Heels was already awake, we sat at the table and talked, then read, then talked some more. (It seems to me that most of the talking was about the past. Which makes sense, since I’ve know both of them for a long time and I spend a lot of time thinking about my past, over analyzing it and imagining how things could have been better and such.) After Mr. Logic got up a discussion of the day’s events was had. It was decided that we should go to the French bakery for breakfast and a movie after and then the Warhol.

We saw Broken Flowers, with Bill Murray. It’s the story of an aging Don Juan who has never faked his own death to see all the women who had loved him. I like it a lot. Bill Murray is spectacular, but the guy who played his friend stole the show. The movie was very bitter sweet, which is my favorite way to take sweet movies.

As we walked out, Heels and I dropped Johnny Logic off at the bathroom, we heard a lady say, “That movie was awful. Bill Murray from Scrooged, that’s the Bill Murray I like. Why doesn’t he make more movies like that?” Heels looked at me and I looked at her, we both smiled and started to laugh. One of us, I’m not sure who, pointed out how strange it is to go see the same movie with so many other people and to have seen a completely different movie. When Mr. Logic came out, we heard her sharing her love of the movie with the guy who takes the tickets. “That movie,” she said, “was the worst movie I have ever seen. That was the worst movie ever made.” I’m sure the ticket guy was going to tell everyone he saw what she thought.

By that time, we were all hungry, so we went to a bird named restaurant and ate. By then, it was too late to see the Warhol. So, we did a drive through tour of Mr. Logic’s school, it was raining, and the downtown. Then we went back to their place. Heels was very, very tired, and took a nap. Johnny and I watched one of their movies, The Borne Identity. I enjoyed it quite a bit; it was a surprisingly smart action film. So, we popped in the sequel.

After the movie, we stayed up even later than the night before talking.

Sunday, The Andy Warhol Museum! (And, later, a baby shower.)

The museum started on the top floor with a John Waters (the director) exhibit. It was mostly photographs he’d taken at his films and strange comparisons of actors and actress to Divine. The best part was the John Waters Curates Andy Warhol’s Porn. Watching old people with very serious expressions watch three girls going down on a guy made me giggle. It was like they were looking for hidden meaning in a blowjob, as opposed to the visceral reaction porn is for.

The rest of the museum was pretty much devoted to Warhol’s stuff. Lots of prints, since that was his thing, but there were other things too. Some painting and sketches. I love looking at quick sketches. They all look so free. Unrushed. Like the artist had no other thought about the work but to get it out. My favorite piece, however, was a self portrait print which is a profile in red, but only a little bit of color for an outline, the rest is white. I’m not sure why I like it so much, but I do.

We moved through the museum a little faster than I would have liked, but we had a baby shower to get for and we had to be on time, since it was for Heels and (to a lesser extent) Johnny Logic.

One word can describe how it was for me: boring. But I was there for my friends, so I did my best to hide my thoughts. The decorations were awful; although it was funny when the hostess asked if the baby was a boy like all her decorations said. (It is a boy, for those who don’t know.) The food was pretty good, though. I was warned early on that the people at the party would be more on the conservative side, so I decided that it wouldn’t be a good idea to wear my “Republicans for Voldemort” shirt. I also had to hold my tongue a lot. One time, I started to say something, three words had escaped my lips before I stopped myself and said, “I’m sorry.” One lady looked at me like she would have liked to hear what I was going to say, but there was no way Heels would have forgiven me if I had said it; many bruises would I have had to live with on the flight back if I had.

Watching Heels open presents was fun. Lots of clothes, a diaper sausage maker, a rocking chair, bibs, and a couple of books. The books were from me; my two favorite Dr. Seuss works, McElligots Pool and Fox in Socks. It was funny that whenever something was unwrapped that had a bear on it the person giving the gift would say, “I know you said you don’t like Teddy Bears, but it was just so cute.” And Heels would say, “Oh, that’s okay, he has a bear sitting in his crib waiting for him. I gave it to my grandmother when I was a kid and now she’s given it back for the baby.” She wasn’t thrilled with the bears, though.

After the party it was back to the house for more jibber jabber, mostly about family, if I remember correctly, and then bed for another early flight. (The only reason it was so early was because originally my parent’s were going to drop me off and pick me up and I didn’t think they’d like to pick me up at 11PM and then have to go to work the next day. It didn’t work out, though.)

The flight back was fine. Katrina didn’t make landfall until a few hours into it and didn’t effect the weather in Houston. The drive back was long and hot and on the hills, my car started to make troubling chugging sounds. I haven’t driven it since.

Strange, isn’t it, how people can spend a weekend together and experience it so differently?