Splendid, Part 3

Umbrellas. It was my first thought and last on the equipment issue. Umbrellas have the right shape and really don’t interfere with the aesthetic. Preferably we’d get assistants to hold the umbrellas if and when the rain came. Eric mentioned Yost was in town, Yost is an organizer and would definitely be connected to the artists if anyone was. We called him on the issue but needed a backup plan just in case. This was the day of the event and the summer so who knows if anyone would be around. Sterz and I go to find the right umbrellas, he mentions black and golf. We need the things to cover a rather wide distance and be durable enough to handle a moderate wind if staked properly. We head out.

The cell phone rings. It’s Mack. I answer, “Mack, Tell me you’re in Tennessee?” Mack had a family reunion in Tennessee, southern black folk style catered deal, something like a couple hundred people. He’s broke and generally not a traveler so even 3 days away is a stress factory for him. He almost didn’t go, right down to the wire so I was eager to hear the answer. “Dude, I’m never taking Greyhound again.” Shit, he took a bus. “I could have warned you, it’d have probably been cheaper if you rented a car.” But I knew he didn’t drive much and the city is in his blood and all that distance is scary especially when entering the South, especially if you’re black (or so I’ve been told), whether it’s justified or not. “It took us 26 hours to get here after the bus got a flat. We were in the fucking hills of Kentucky when the thing blew out. Adrian and I got out, smoked a blunt and waited for like six hours for another bus to come. Fuck that.” In the same breath you could hear the excitement. That is what travel is, good stories both horrific and glorious. “Now that we’re here, it’s awesome. You wouldn’t believe what they got here. Everything you could imagine. I’m about to head into this store where they sell JUST KNIVES and SWORDS. It’s like the size of a Walmart. And later I’m going to this go-cart track with TEN MILES of track, TEN MILES.” “Jesus,” I respond. I just wanted to listen, I’ve never heard Mack this excited, he was like a kid in a candy shop. “I just came out of this place where they had a confederate flag, lemme see, it said, the ‘South in my blood, a Yankee in my cud’ or something like that, I couldn’t believe it, it was so prejudice, I had to take a picture. The guy was like, ‘Where are you from?’ (for this Mack puts on a southern drawl) and I said ‘New York’ and he was like, ‘you’re a long way from home?’” “Damn,” I respond between breaths. “Yea, he turned out to be a nice guy but I couldn’t believe this thing. I got a picture so I’ll show you in a few days. I couldn’t believe it.” “How’s the family?” “Oh my god, there’s something like two hundred and forty people here, its unreal. The whole thing’s catered but you should see the amount of food just for our family, like huge vats of ribs and what not. It’s kind of awesome to think about it, that all these people are related to me.” I started thinking about my family reunions and the general lack of them and how even if there was one it would be based on the top bracket income folks n shit so it doesn’t happen or it gets to be too much trouble for the family that hosts. “It must be awesome.” “It is,” Mack says with a pause for reflection then gets right back to present. “I’m gonna get going into this shop but I’ll give you a call in a few days and show you shit. I gotta work this greyhound deal out, there’s no way I’m getting back on a bus. They’re insane, I can’t believe anyone would pay for a service like that.” “Next time we’ll drive. Hell, I’ll drive,” I say. “Yea, we gotta take a long weekend and drive down here soon.” “Stay an extra day or two if you can.” “I’ll see.” “Alright, go buy a gay blade.” I always use this gay blade line thinking myself so clever. Mack digs for a response, “I’ll look, I think they keep those in the basement.” We hang up and I see that Sterz has been waiting patiently. He adds, “This is so gay,” with a smile and and bit of a laugh because we were certain to succeed in the hunt for black umbrellas and because we were out of Rochester and because we were having an adventure. First stop, Targét. Last stop, Targét. We found exactly what was needed after only a few rounds and some directions from a hot chic.