Thursday, May 13, 2010

New Thing #56 - You're the Inspiration

I hope after reading the title you have that damn song in your head, because I do after having typed it. Ah well. Tonight I went to a book signing and met one of my relatively new favorite authors: Jen Lancaster, a nonfiction author who embodies the type of writer I'd like to be. She's not necessarily the inspiration for the blog itself - that I credit to the chick who was featured in Cosmo, but I credit Jen as my inspiration for the tone and humor I get out of ridiculous situations.

I first read one of Jen's book a few years ago when my best friend Meredith gave me one for my birthday. I believe Meredith read a few pages and instantly knew it would be my kind of book. The title was "Bright Lights, Big Ass" and was Jen's second memoir, chronicling her life of going from a high-powered executive buying $500 purses to being unemployed and shopping at Target. From the moment I started reading it, I fell in love with her. The way she wrote her books was a lot like the way I feel about my life and some of the ridiculous shenanigans that occur. She just managed to bottle all that craziness and capitalize on it. I couldn't put the book down and immediately went out to buy her first book and eagerly anticipated her third. Never had I felt so connected to an author before her. Not that we really had anything in common whatsoever. She lives in Chicago, would punch her own grandmother in the face for an expensive purse and wears pearls and plaid. I live in St. Louis, the archenemy of Chicagoans, refuse to pay more than $25 (on sale at Kohl's) for a purse and don't own any "fancy" expensive jewelry for fear it will get flushed down the toilet or eaten by a jungle cat. Hey, it could happen. So, other than our love for wit and sarcasm, and turning crappy situations into page turners, we got nothin'.

So, back to the point, she's a fabulous writer who takes her humor and uses it to bank on impossible situations. She's seriously awesome at it. Like Chuck Norris awesome. I even believe she has a cat named Chuck Norris. Which just makes her more awesome. And she coins phrases like "bat-shit-ham-sandwich-butterfinger-crazy". I will be stealing this phrase soon. My friend Brenda is also a big fan and was also inspired to write her blog after reading Jen's books and her blog. Side note: I did not know Jen had a blog until 4 days ago, and I feel like a boob for not knowing that. Anywho, Brenda follows her blog and noticed that she was touring to publicize her new book: "My Fair Lazy" and saw that she would be in the good ol' STL tonight. Knowing that I would be a good partner in crime, she invited me to come with.

The book signing was held at the Mad Art Gallery, and I am mad (haha, get it) as hell at myself for never having been to this little gem before. Nestled in southern Soulard a mere block or so from the Anheuser-Busch brewery is a former police station turned art gallery. (I mean seriously, any place close enough to smell the hops a brewin' is awesome in and of itself.) I've heard of it before, but have never made the connection that hey, it might have cool sh*t there, being as it's an art gallery and stuff. But, I did not know it used to house the po-pos. So, I got a two-fer tonight, my first book signing and my first foray into an art gallery with jail cells. Oh yeah, it still had jail cells you could hang out in. Double awesome.

We arrived early in order to get our tickets for the book signing. If you bought her new book there, you were assigned a ticket group number, so you could have your book signed. If you didn't buy a book, you had to wait until the very end of the night, if there was time, to get your book signed. I wanted her new book, and I didn't want to wait until the end of the night to get it signed, so I went ahead and bought it and ended up getting into Group #2. Sweet. I wouldn't have to wait around all night. Brenda and I had about an hour wait before she took the stage, but it gave us a chance to check out some of the art hanging on the walls. There is a pop-art-esque exhibit up on the walls now and it's pretty cool. There's a giant image of Marilyn Monroe made entirely out of sugar packets. Blue ones, yellow ones, pink ones. It's amazing. Retarded me didn't think to actually take pictures of any of the art though. Usually art galleries frown on that sort of thing anyways.

Once she arrived, she read a few pages from her book, and all the reasons why I love her came rushing back. Her particular example is how she's trying to be more "cultural", so while in San Francisco, decided to go to Chinatown and learn about tea services. The gist of is that she ended up spending $400 for 4-1lb bags of tea from a tiny Chinese lady who spoke .05% English. And she's pretty sure that 1 pound of that was some kind of black market heroin. Granted, I don't do her justice by paraphrasing, and while I would never buy $400 worth of anything from someone who didn't speak good Engrish, the crap that happens to her sounds exactly like something that would happen to me. Which is awesome.

Talkin' it up.

Only she can pull off plaid shorts, a polo shirt and pearls.

After the reading, she opened up the floor to questions. I wondered what she would be like, off the cuff so to speak. I always wonder if funny people, whether it be writers or comedians, are actually funny when they have nothing prepared. Jen didn't disappoint. Each one of her answers was ridiculous and funny and more often than not, completely long-winded and off topic. Which, if you've met me, you know that I tend to be the Exact. Same. Way. I can't tell you a story in under 5 minutes. It's physically impossible for me to get to the point in a reasonable amount of time. I seriously think that my hair might fall out or my spleen will explode if that were to happen. That's what makes me "me". And it's what makes my blogs so darn entertaining. *wink

I should mention that there was a bar. And 98% of the people at this thing were women. And some of these women were fully experiencing all that the bar had to offer. One woman had a 3-part question for Jen, with an additional follow-up question. All of which made little to no sense to anyone except for the lady asking the question. A few people asked Jen questions about reality shows that I had never even heard of. That's another thing we definitely do not have in common. My idea of reality television is Dancing with the Stars and the Biggest Loser. Jen's idea of quality reality tv is Jersey Shore and any version starting with "The Housewives of..."

Roughly an hour or so passed and it was time for the book signings. I took my leave to head to the little convict's room and use the facilities. Where I was accosted by a lady who was staring very intently at me. I realized that she was trying, in some bizarre way, to engage my participation in her little conversation she was having with no one in particular. I'm not a line talker, people. I don't particularly enjoy making small talk with random strangers while waiting in line to answer nature's call. But, she clearly did not know this. Her first comment to me was "You're gonna love the bathrooms. Have you ever been to the bathroom here before? Oh, you're gonna love these." Really, lady? While, I've been in a few stellar bathrooms that I would probably have no problems living in, I wouldn't necessarily go so far as to say that I actually love a bathroom. Nor do I give bathrooms that much of my time and attention. If there's no pee on the seat or on the floor and if there's toilet paper, it's pretty much A-ok in my book. I gave her the semi-nod and half-smile and tried to avert my attention elsewhere. This did not deter her. She went on to tell me that she had been there before (she was no newbie to THESE bathrooms) at a wedding. A burlesque wedding. Where the bride got naked before the wedding. In front of everyone. Thank God 3 stalls immediately opened up or I would have been forced to hear more about things that make me want to stab myself in the eye.

Not long after I made it back to the gallery, it was our group's turn to wait in line, and the event coordinator was very happy to boot people who weren't in our group yet. I wanted to hug her. We quickly made our way up to the front of the line and Brenda stepped up to get her book signed. She made small talk about Bret Michaels, who Jen is apparently a fan of, and I completely blanked when it was my turn. Granted, they were still talking about Bret, but I found that I literally had nothing to say. I froze and realized that it was best to keep my mouth shut or sputter something crazy like "I like your hair" for lack of something witty to say. We took a few pics with her and went on our way. And that was it. My one chance at thanking her for inspiring me, and I blew it. At least I got two books signed out of it. I had brought my original book Meredith had bought me, along with the new one I had just bought and she kindly signed both of them. Which makes her super awesome.

I'm trying hard not to be fazed by the celebrity next to me.

Me & Brenda with our fav author!

So, I survived my first book signing, and even hung out in one of the jail cells which is home to creepy-naked-statue-man. Thanks to Brenda for telling me about this and to Jen Lancaster (because I just KNOW she is reading this) for being an amazing inspiration to me. It's because of you that I put so much time and effort into making my blog enjoyable for others to read. And it's because of you that I've realized that I've been seriously slacking off the last 6 or so months and really need to get my butt back in gear. I'll admit that I've been lazy. The first 4 months after I turned 30 were my way of relaxing and slowing down after a hectic year. The last 6 there is no excuse other than I've been lazy. I will do my best to do better and get this blog up and running again.

What the fu-hell?

Seriously, what the?

Why so glum, creepy-naked-statue-man?

I'll make it better!

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

New Thing #55 - Speed Racer

Okay, so I've gotten a speeding ticket before, but only two in my 14 years behind the wheel. I'd say that's not too bad. Last month, I received my third, and it was within the city limits of St. Louis. For going 40 in a 30. Which, if you live within the City limits, you would know that not even the cops follow speed limit signs. Hell, most people don't even stop at stop signs. (In case you're wondering, I do happen to stop at all stop signs, red lights and for little old ladies that are jaywalking.) But, the ticket itself is not the new thing....it's the paying of the ticket without getting it fixed. Which, if you're wondering, does not happen to be on my bucket list.

I was on my way to work on my normal route cruising right along (and slowing down) to the red light up ahead. As I pulled up to the light, with another car in front of me, a police car threw on his lights and pulled away from the curb to sit directly behind me. I was flabbergasted and assumed it was for the car in front of me. I wasn't speeding. Couldn't have been speeding. I was on my way to work for crying out loud, and I was early, so it's not like I was in a hurry. As we sat there with Officer Crankypants and his technicolor display behind me, the light eventually turned green and both I and the car in front of me pulled over. The cop stopped and the car in front of me left. But the officer didn't follow him. I was seriously perplexed at this point. To make a long story short (since the ticket itself is not the reason for the blog), he made a point to tell me that I was going 40 in a 30 and Fyler (the street we were on) had a limit of 30. He even pointed at the speed limit sign directly in front of us. I will admit that there's no doubt that I was going 40, I'm sure I was. I was just peeved that I actually got pulled over for that crap. In the city. If you live here, you know what a joke traffic stops are. The police have much better things to worry about like crack addicts, gang violence and burglaries than to worry about a 30 year old girl on her way to work.

On my way to work the next morning, I started to pay attention on the street between where I turned onto it and where he pulled me over. Not one single speed limit sign to tell me it was 30. Nada. Son of a batch of cookies. I wish I had known that when he was giving me his Crankypants schpiel the morning before. (Not that I would have really argued with him though. I would have thought about it and then chickened out.) Crap. There's no way I'm going to want to pay the lawyer fees, etc to contest the ticket in court. Dangit, screwed by The Man.

Fast forward to today when I decided to pay my ticket. My two previous tickets were "fixed" by lawyer friends, so I never had to worry about sending in money for the actual ticket. I just paid the lawyers, and they took care of the rest. The officer had kindly highlighted the information I would need to call to find out how much I owed. It wasn't printed on the ticket anywhere. Well, the City of St. Louis is at least in the 21st century and had a website I could access to find out how much it would be. Mother trucker, it was more expensive than I thought. There was an online payment option, which was awesome. I could pay asap and not worry about mailing in a pesky check.

Ahhh..but the City had other ideas. So, the "website" that can be accessed to pay your ticket is not actually a division of the City of St. Louis's government site. Oh no, it was a website called "Official Payments" that says it's a leading provider of online payments to the IRS, states, municipalities, colleges, on and on and on. I was a bit leery of using the site, but I thought I would at least look into it first. I clicked on the state of MO to find the City information, and got this lovely error message: "Missouri has not yet contracted with Official Payments to process State Payments using credit cards." W. T. F. Are you kidding me? This is ridiculous. I tried searching around the website for 20 minutes trying to get around that, but nope, it wouldn't let me proceed. Brilliant execution by the City of St. Louis again.

So, I was back to paying my ticket via check. As I looked closer to the back of my ticket to see who to make the check out to, I saw that there were two payment options: one for City Violations and one for State Violations. The officer had highlighted the State Violations section. Hmmmm. That didn't make any sense, I was in the city limits when I got pulled over. I decided to call the phone number listed under the City violations, hoping that someone on the other end would be able to help me out.

Ten minutes later I was still on hold, and hadn't spoken to one single human. Lots of pre-recorded messages and numbers to push. I was not happy. Two minutes later, another pre-recorded message told me that they were experiencing a high call volume, and that I should try back between the hours of 8 am and 5 pm to talk to a clerk. (Umm....I was calling at 9:35 am.) And then the evil message thanked me, told me to have a nice day and promptly hung up. I'm not going to lie, curse words were flowing quite freely at this point. It's a good thing I went to another part of the office to make this call or my coworkers would have been a bit alarmed.

I went back to the ticket to study the information and thought that maybe I was supposed to send it to the address listed under State Violations. That is the section he highlighted after all. I had made up my mind to send my check there when I noticed some fine print that said "Checks or payment by mail will NOT be accepted at the Traffic Violation Bureau." The address I was about to send my check to was the Traffic Violation Bureau. What the hell did that mean? Why did it give me an address under Payment Information and then turn around tell me not to send any money there?

Good grief, I just wanted to pay my stupid ticket before the city issued a warrant for my arrest. I decided to try the number under the State Violation section and see if maybe they would at least answer and point me in the right direction. One ring later, I thought I saw salvation, a live person actually answered the phone. But, she dashed my hopes in about 4.6 seconds when she told me she couldn't help me. But, she did give me a number that I could call and they could help me. I turned around and tried that number and got some lady's answering machine. No name, just a recording telling me to leave my name and number. Well, I figured it didn't hurt to at least leave a brief message and hope to hell she would call me back.

I thought maybe I had missed something on the website, so I decided to go back and peruse it again in case I found a way to pay. Especially since the recording told me 84 times while I was on hold that I could pay online. I still found no way around that damn state issue. I even tried to get help from my coworkers. My boss was kind enough to say "who gets speeding tickets in the city? I didn't even know they stopped people for speeding." Well, apparently they do Captain Sarcastic. Or maybe I was just the lucky one that caught Officer Crankypants when he was bored out of his mind.

Since no one could help me, I decided to try calling the city again and again until I actually got someone. Fortunately, this time I was lucky and only waited on hold for 7 minutes. When the lady answered her phone, I kindly explained to her that I had received a speeding ticket in the city, but the officer had marked that I should pay the state. I was wanting to verify where I should send my payment. Below is the conversation that followed:

Clerk: "in a car?"
Heather: "Beg your pardon?:
C: "Were you in a car?"
I tried very hard not to snort at her at this point....because I really wanted to say "no, I was running really really fast." Instead, I said "yes, ma'am, I was in a car."
C: "What was the ticket for?"
My patience was starting to wear thin.
H: "Speeding"
C: "And what do you want to know?"
H: "Where I should send my payment. I have two addresses listed on the ticket and I want to make sure I send it to the correct place."
C: "Okay, what is your ticket number?"
I gave it to her.
C: "Heather Jones?"
H: "Yes."
C: "A ticket for speeding?"
H: "Yeeeesssss."
C: "Okay, you send that here to 1520 Market Street."
I should note that this was NOT one of the two addresses listed on my ticket.
H: "And who should I make the check out to?"
C: "the City of St. Louis."
Again, not on my ticket anywhere.
H: "I'm really glad I called because this address wasn't on the ticket anywhere at all."
C: "Well, we just moved to this location."
Oh ok.
H: "Oh, when was that?"
C: "August."
.....and they still don't have it listed on their computer-generated tickets yet? Again, brilliant execution by this fair city.
H: "Okay, well, thank you for your time, I'll send my check in today."

This stuff only happens to me. Anyone else would have had no trouble paying a simple speeding ticket. But, no, I get the officer who is geographically challenged, the non-functioning website and the Mensa candidate working at the city court. Awesome.

Monday, October 19, 2009

New Thing #54 - Bridge Day 2009

Over the weekend, I spent a few days in West Virginia for Bridge Day. Bridge Day is the largest legal base jumping event in the world. Yeah, base jumping is where crazy people jump off of things with little to no freefall before pulling a chute. B.A.S.E. actually stands for Building, Antennae, Span (meaning bridge), Earth (like cliffs and mountains.) I should mention here that I did not jump. I had no desire to jump, which wouldn't have mattered because I wasn't eligible. But, I'll get to that in due time. I apologize for the length of this blog in advance, but I have four days to cover!

I'll start with telling you why I was there in the first place. My best friend's husband, Ben, who you might recognize from some of my previous blogs, is a videographer, video editor, producer and a whole slew of other things. Last year he was asked to be the official videographer of Bridge Day. And he asked me to design the packaging for the DVD. I wasn't able to make it to the event last year, but since he was asked to do it again this year, I figured this was my chance. I can design the heck out of the packaging, but it helps if I'm there to experience it for myself in order to be more creative. Plus, they do most of their DVD sales during the event, so I tagged along to lend my selling hand to the ring.

This year marks the 30th anniversary of the Bridge Day celebration. Bridge Day isn't just about jumping off the bridge. It's a celebration for West Virginia to show off it's greatest accomplishment, the bridge itself, the western hemisphere's longest arch bridge. It's 3030 feet long, 876 feet high, 70 feet wide and 88 million pounds of U.S. Cor Ten steel and American cement (I'm quoting the brochure for my brother who is probably salivating right now). There are tons of vendors, a Bridge Day queen contest, and tens of thousands of spectators each year.

The gorge itself was formed, you know, around 345 million years ago, give or take a few hundred years by the New River. It ranges from 700 to 1300 feet deep, and the 85 miles of river drop in elevation a total of 850 feet. And for this reason, I found out that West Virginia boasts some of the best whitewater rafting in the country. And there were cuh-razy people out rafting even in the freezing cold temperatures we had this weekend. I guess it's the thing to do to raft while people are jumping above your head. Crazy f*ckers.

Okay, enough facts, back to the good stuff. It takes roughly 10-12 hours to get to West Virginia from St. Louis. Brutal. I left home between 7:30 and 8:00 am on Thursday morning to make the 4 hour trek to Indy. (I looked into flights, but they were way too expensive.) When I got there I joined Meredith, Ben and three more people to make the 6 or so hour drive to Fayetteville, WV. We took two cars due to there being six of us and lots of camera equipment. Joining us were Alex, one of the guys manning a camera, Paola, a reliever for the cameramen, and Mico, Paola's boyfriend who would be jumping off the bridge. Meeting us in WV would be Rob, Tom and Mark, the other cameramen, and Lisa, the photographer. We headed out on our journey through Indiana, Ohio and into West Virginia. Unfortunately, Meredith has a smaller bladder than I do, and I swear we stopped every hour on the hour at every McDonald's in the tri-state region. It became a bit of a game and a race against the clock to try to find the next Mickey-D's on the highway. But, I guess you had to be there to get why it was so damn funny.

The later it got, the more it started to rain, so that slowed down our journey a bit. And the closer we got, the more anxious I got to just get there already. I've never driven in a car for pretty much 12 hours straight and I apparently get a little stir crazy. And by a little, I mean a lot. And not counting Florida, this is the farthest east I've ever been. And definitely ever driven. But, we eventually got to Fayetteville (also known as the "Coolest Small Town"), and then had the joyful experience of trying to find our cabin in the black void that is the West Virginia wilderness. Ben had rented a cabin close to the bridge, but what he didn't realize was just how much fun it would be to get there. A one lane road to a steep, rough, tree-root laden path would eventually lead us straight to Cabin #8. And I have to say that the drive was definitely worth it. Nestled within the trees was a three-bedroom oasis complete with 1-1/2 baths, a loft, fireplace and hot tub outside. It was filled with beautiful woodwork and charming accents. But no TV or WiFi. You truly went there to get away from the outside world.

The lighting was terrible whenever we were actually at the house, so I wasn't able to get a great shot of the outside.

One of the downstairs bedrooms.

The other bedroom has the washer/dryer.

The two beds in the loft area.

Fireplace in the living area along with Alex.

Kitchen.

Wood mosaic above the front door.

Ceiling beams and a view of the loft.

Hot tub!

A murky view of the path outside the front door.

Cool tile on the outside beam.

The rest of Thursday night was spent getting acquainted with our selling station for Friday, meeting with the head honcho of the entire event and knocking back a few cold ones while watching drunken base jumpers get rowdy in the bar. Gooood times. We were all pretty beat by this point, so decided to call it a night in preparation for a long day on Friday. We got up at the ass crack of dawn to shower and get ready to head to the lodge where all the jumpers had to register. We would be one of the vendors there that day and our goal was to pre-sell the shiznit out of the DVD. One tiny problem. Apparently Paola had gotten up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and had somehow shut AND locked the bathroom door when she finished. So, Meredith had a fun start to the morning trying to break into the unoccupied bathroom...while 5 other people tried to sleep nearby. She eventually called the owners of the cabins at 6am and was told to use a coat hanger to release the lock. Yep, they knew exactly what to do. I guess it wasn't the first time someone had sleep-walked and locked everyone out of the bathroom. Noted.

We made our way to the lodge and set up our table with a few price displays, order forms and some candy to keep the throngs of jumpers satisfied. It didn't take too long to get set up, and then I too had to register. All of the staff had to have badges similar to each one of the jumpers. The security and standards are pretty strict for jumping, as well as helping out, so I had to get all my ducks in a row. Everyone is required to sign their life away on a gazillion page form, then we have to read a disclaimer on video basically saying if we die we can't sue anyone, then the jumpers get their gear checked to make sure it's all safe and legal, and the final step is the badge itself. Which is about 5" tall x 3" wide. Mine included my name, bloodtype, allegeries and a 2" headshot. The jumpers' badge also included time stamps that would later be punched to indicate their jump times. Apparently the thing to do is to take crazy headshot photos to try to win for the most creative. I had fun with mine, but I didn't think I would win. Some guy who stuck a condom up his nose won. Go figure. The funny part about this whole process is that I had to sign and read the same info as the jumpers even though I wasn't jumping. I even said stuff about how this was my choice to jump and I wouldn't hold anyone accountable if I died. Uh......did someone forget to tell me that I'd be selling DVDs while jumping?

My badge!

Now that the legal mumbo jumbo was out of the way, Meredith and I prepared for our first victims. Our table was conveniently located near Steps 1-3 of the registration process. We figured no one could sneak past us without being able to miss our sales pitch. What we failed to realize was just how clueless some of these people really were. There was clearly a table marked "Step 1 of Registration - Fill out Waiver", followed by a giant sign that said "Step 2 of Registration - Video Waiver" and finally another table marked "Step 3 of Registration - Gear Check". Not one single sign on our table mentioned anything about the registration process, yet 75-80% of the jumpers came to us first to find out what the hell to do. Maybe it was because we were sitting there. Maybe it was because we were pretty. Maybe it was because these people had a few screws loose. Who knows. All I know is that it got a bit old pointing at the form table and saying "Fill out the form first, then read the video waiver." For the particularly clueless, we made sure to tell them to stop back by our table before they were finished. Some of them were not happy to find out we were going to try to sell them the DVD rather than finish their registration process for them.

For the most part, the day went well. Ben, Alex and Mark headed out to the bridge to take some video before the big day, and Mere and I were left to our own devices. We were selling the 2009 DVD for $40, last year's '08 DVD for $25, and a combo pack that included the 2009 DVD along with the jumper's individual raw footage for $60. The raw footage included all the camera angles for all the person's jumps in raw high-def files. This was the biggest seller of the entire weekend. Most jumpers that bought the DVD were interested in getting their own raw footage. Ben sometimes has to edit out some of the jumpers' footage to make the DVD, so by ordering the raw footage, it gives the jumper the opportunity to not miss out on any part of their exit or landing.

Throughout the course of the day I realized one thing: I was born to sell. At least I was born to sell to men. I cannot tell you how many times I turned on the charm, gave my spiel and turned those "no thank yous" into "do you take credit"? It got to be a game for me to see how many DVDs I could sell. One guy didn't even last through 30 seconds of my pitch before he said, "sure, I'll take it all." And by all, I mean he bought the combo pack AND the 2008 DVD. I had him for $85. Damn, I wish I got commission off my sales! Now, don't get me wrong, I did get quite a few nos, some hell nos, some nervous twitches and head shakes and even some guys flat out ignoring me. I had my work cut out for me. Some of those guys had been jumping so long they could care less about another DVD of their jumps. Others were making their very first Bridge Day jump or first BASE jump ever, so they were all over the raw footage. One of those included the sweetest old man named John. For his 69th birthday, he decided to participate in Bridge Day. He was the cutest thing ever and was so excited. I could tell he was a bit nervous, but he was determined.

I will also admit that I had some guys talk to me more than I cared for, and a few that were not so subtle in their pick-up skills. But hey, we had merchandise to sell, right? One guy, who I later found would attach himself to me for most of the weekend said to me (after he had bought the combo pack): "Are you from around here? "Are you in school?" "Do you have a boyfriend?" all in about 3.4 seconds. I don't think he took a breath. He joked that that's what guys do to pick up girls and he thinks it's funny, yet he legitimately wanted to know the answers to all of those questions. His name was Bryan and I found out he's a little bit more than slightly OCD. He straightened the contents of our table about 6 times and had the attention span of a gnat. I swear anything shiny that made sudden movements would distract him. Meredith and I had an entertaining time tormenting this poor guy. All in good fun though. He was interesting to talk to and was pretty harmless.

The day progressed and I realized just how diverse the people were. I met jumpers from South Africa, Canada, Germany, Australia, England, Scotland, Brazil, Russia, and a slew of different states. Some I could understand, others stared at me like I had purple goo oozing from my eye sockets. Those people needed a translator. Each jumper though was required to have completed at least 100 parachute jumps (this could include a combination of sky diving or base jumps or all of one and none of the other). At least one had to be completed within the last year. Hence why I was ineligible to jump. My wimpy two sky dives were nothing compared to these people. One guy we met from South Africa was putting together his casting reel to be a host for National Geographic. He had just come from swimming with sharks or challenging meerkats to a death match or some other crazy shit. And he wanted to use his footage for his reel. Whether he was legit or not, I just enjoyed listening to him talk (I was digging the accent). I tried to tell him I'd do all that crazy stuff too, minus the swimming with sharks and jumping off the bridge part, but I don't think he was interested in a co-host. His loss.

I also met "Coma Guy". No idea what his real name is, I just now call him Coma Guy after hearing about a particularly gnarly jump he made a year or so ago which caused him to be in a coma for two weeks. He broke all the bones below his pelvis (except his left femur) and all the bones in his face, requiring him to now have about 60 tiny screws in his head. Awesome. And yes, folks, he was back at it and jumping again this year. And according to him, he wasn't completely healed yet. He still had some stuff to be done to his face over the course of the next few months. I did see him later Saturday night, so I know he made it safely to the bottom of the gorge this year. Thank God.

As the day started to wind down, I started to lose steam and pretty much had it with trying to sell anything. Everyone had to be registered by 4pm or pay the late registration fee. Guys were literally running through the building at 3:58 trying to get all their registration complete in about 120 seconds. It was pathetically hysterical. After the registration process was over, we moved our booth to another location, took a break and waited for late registration to begin. Meredith and I decided that a beer was in order to commend ourselves on a good day. Plus, I needed to ease my sore throat. Hey, nonstop selling will wear out the vocal chords! (Not to mention I had recently lost my voice due to a cold and wasn't really back up to 100% yet.) And in the bar at the lodge we met Adam. Ah, Adam. I swear this kid could have been a model. He was so stinkin' cute that I wanted to pinch his cheeks and put him in my pocket to take home with me. I'm not even sure this guy was legally able to drink. In fact, I never saw him with a beer in his hand. He may have just barely been able to vote. We weren't trying to hit on the guy at all, he was just so cute, we had to talk to him.

Adam!!

Friday finally wound down and again we were all beat. This selling stuff takes a lot out of you. I'm not really sure what Mico and Paola did all day. Those crazy Brazilians, you never know what they're up to. Ben and Alex spent part of the day capturing video and the other being bored to tears. We wanted to get to bed fairly early since we would all be up and at 'em before that big fiery ball in the sky even thought about getting up. Couldn't wait.

Saturday morning dawned and my alarm went off way before my body was ready to get up. 5:15 am. Eastern time. Which meant my body thought it was 4:15 am. Son of a biscuit. We all showered the night before, so there was no bathroom incidents to worry about. Meredith, Ben and I had to be gone before anyone else in order to meet the box truck that would take us to the bridge. Mark also met us down there. Due to people jumping off the bridge, you know, they had to shut traffic down. And yes, I said box truck. The box truck carried fencing and other equipment to set up the platform for the jumpers to jump off of. It also included a dozen or so people that would be setting up the exit point, as well as vendors like me and Mere. I should mention that there are no lights in the back of a box truck. At least not the one we were in. And it was six o'clock in the morning, so little to no sunlight. I felt like an immigrant being smuggled into the country. We were kind of piled on top of one another. I managed to find a trunk to sit on so I wasn't thrown around the back, but most people had to stand. Good thing the driver wasn't Mario Andretti. And just like people trying to cross the border, we had a truck check, where close to the bridge, we all had to file off the truck and show our staff badges to the uber cranky park rangers, then wait for one of them to snoop around the back of the truck. Did he really think we were hiding someone that voluntarily wanted to be up before the rest of the world, but wasn't smart enough to get their badge? Finally, we were all allowed back into the truck where we each headed to our destinations.

Meredith and I and a few other vendors were dropped off at the end of the bridge, and Ben, Mark and the rest of the crew were being taken to the exit point to get set up. It would take a couple hours to get everything ready. In the meantime, Meredith and I were paired with Ted and Paul from Vertical Visions, the company that is actually in charge of Bridge Day, as well as Jimmy, Todd and Steve, all from Apex Base, an official provider of base jumping gear. We were all going to be sharing Apex's tent. The guys set out getting the tent and tables put together while Meredith helped and I took pictures. I took a few minutes out to walk to the middle of the bridge and get some photos before all the craziness began. And I have to say that despite the fog, the grim light and the rain, the view was incredibly breathtaking. I could not believe just how high this freakin' bridge was. And just how far down those jumpers would go. Insane.

Mere and the guys setting up the tent. In the rain.

Cold Mere?

Heave!!! Todd & Jimmy are fighting with the backdrop.

Getting the exit platform set up.

Gorgeous.

Home to what would soon be the LZ or Landing Zone.

New River.

Appalachian Mountains.

The video speaks for itself.

The nasally voice is courtesy of the cold I was rockin'.

The rest of the morning was spent finishing up our booth and prepping for the spectators. Meredith told me that we wouldn't really sell many DVDs during the day. While some spectators were interested in the DVD, it's main appeal is for the people actually jumping. And she was right. Maybe it was the weather, but we didn't sell many DVDs that day. We primarily helped Vertical Visions sell T-shirts and stocking hats. They were selling the official Bridge Day shirts, so lots of people were interested in our booth. Plus, they were actual base jumpers, so lots of people came to our booth asking questions about base jumping. I learned really quickly how to answer and by the end of the day I was pulling so much crap out of my butt, I would have made my dad proud of me. And the people bought it. If it was really something I didn't know, I asked one of the other guys, but for the most part, I could answer lots of the questions just by listening to what Paul or Todd had to say. Plus, the reason we helped sell the shirts is because Paul and Ted have the focus of kindergarteners. Ted, or TK as he liked to be called, is the proverbial dirty old man that tried to make something sexual out of everything that was said. And he was constantly roaming around doing anything but selling shirts. While he was in the booth, Paul would be jumping. As soon as Paul would get back, Ted would go jump. Paul was pretty entertaining and could also sell ice to an eskimo. I did learn quite a bit from him though. I became a pro at learning all the lingo associated with jumping including canopy, rig and gainer (a particular direction and way you jump). I'm definitely far from an expert, but Paul taught me a lot. And what he didn't teach me, I totally made up.

Paul was super excited about Bridge Day!

So were Meredith and Ted!

Our little slice of heaven.

9:00 am and the spectators started showing up.


Okay, so the Apex guys had a giant canvas with the shot of the bridge platform. Spectators could come up and take their picture next to it so it would look like they were actually jumping. Needless to say, me and Mere had fun with it!



Wait for me!!

Tandem!

Me and Santa!!! (Yes, there was a guy actually dressed as Santa, and EVERYONE wanted their picture with him!)

The day progressed with Meredith and I doing the "stay-warm-dance" which is quite similar to the "pee-pee-dance", and selling shirts for Ted and Paul. And we sold a few DVDs in the process just to give us a reason why we were actually there freezing our nuggets off. Right next to us was the packing area where jumpers could have a clean area to repack their chutes. We had put down a giant tarp to cover up the mud and gravel on the road. Next to that was a giant LED screen showing the exits and landings for the spectators. That was really nice because we were too far away to see any of the action up close. Seriously. The exit area was only a speck on the horizon. That flippin' bridge was hella long.

The packing area could get pretty crowded later in the day. Each jumper had to jump once, and when all registered jumpers were finished, it was a free-for-all. You could jump as many times as you wanted until 3:00 pm. All you had to do was get your shit together at the LZ, hop on one of the buses and head back to the bridge, repack your chute, get in line and start all over again.

The LED screen showing a boat pick up. Yeah, I should mention that the LZ is the optimal landing area, but the water is the softest landing if you don't think you can reach the shore. There were a ton of boats there to pick up the stranded jumpers. I bet that water was frigid.

Towards the end of the day, both Mere and I made separate treks down to the exit site to see the jumps up close and personal. I should mention that in order to get the video, Ben was suspended in a basket OVER the gorge. Yep. He sat in a tiny basket all day long with no food, no water and no potty breaks. In the freezing cold and rain. Now, that's dedication. Mark also did the same, but he was sitting on the exit platform rather than in the basket. Both guys were equipped with rigs so if they were to fall, they would have a parachute to save their lives. By the time I made my way down there a nice steady rain had started to fall, along with a bit of sleet. Awesome. I was still able to catch quite a few jumps and get pretty close to the platform. It was incredibly unreal to watch these guys jump. I've seen the video Ben made last year, but it really doesn't compare to being there and watching the jumps in person. I've now decided that these people are bat-shit crazy. But I won't lie to you. There's a tiny part of me that wanted to jump.


You can barely make out the exit point, it's so far away.

Close up of the LZ. Alex and Rob were down there capturing all the landings.

Yep, that was a whitewater raft.


There's a blurry spot, just below and to the right of the guy's hand. That's a jumper.

Poor Ben is on the right.

Geronimo!!!

That's Mark with the camera. He's way braver than I. One wrong shift and he's over the edge. Thank God for chutes!

You could tell who was new to it and who was more experienced. The newbies pulled the chute almost instantaneously from their exit, while the more experienced pushed the limits of gravity until the will to live prevailed and they pulled their chutes. I also figured out that the the chutes have what's called a pilot chute, which is a tiny chute that causes the main canopy to deploy. You can either have this pilot chute stowed, and have to pull a rip cord to get it to deploy, or you can just hold the pilot in your hands and throw it into the air when you jump. Yep. I said throw it in the air. Like I said, bat-shit crazy.

At 3, Bridge Day was officially over and the park rangers let us know it. They were very diligent in making sure we were packing up and getting the hell out of dodge. They wanted to get the bridge back open. We worked on packing up the tables, the tent and all the merchandise. Unfortunately, we had a steady rain slowing us down a bit. Apex packed up their stuff into their trailer and hit the road, while Meredith, TK, Paul and I stood in the rain for what seemed like hours waiting for the box truck to come back and pick us up. I was definitely running on empty at this point. I was cold, hungry and not in the best of spirits. But, we had to wait for the crew to tear down the platform and pack it back into the truck before it would make its way back to us. Finally, it made it's way slowly down the bridge and we all piled back in. I found another seat on a trunk, but this time right next to a very large open trash can filled with not-so-sweet smelling trash. But, at that point, I didn't care about much of anything except a hot shower or a soak in our hot tub.

We were to be sorely mistaken when we finally got back to the lodge and discovered that the natives were restless and wanted to buy their DVDs NOW. Why they couldn't have bought them the day before when we weren't cold and cranky, I have no idea. I guess they wanted to make sure their jumps were worth recording before shelling out the cash. Seriously, one foreign guy, who had annoyed the crap out of us the day before without buying anything, pounced on us the minute we walked in the door wanting to buy his DVD. He even tried to help us carry stuff in from the car to speed along the process. Are you freakin' kidding me, buddy? I'm not above jabbing a pencil in your eye if you cross me again.

Meredith and I took a break and tried to warm up using the hand dryer in the bathroom. It helped a little. We figured they could wait for a few more minutes. I guess they didn't realize we hadn't had any down time like they had. We eventually unpacked all the forms and I swear it was like a pack of wolves feeding on one lone rabbit. We had people coming from every which direction wanting to purchase their DVD and raw footage. We had jumpers who had already paid, but needed to return their raw footage forms. (In order for Ben to be able to figure out who these people are, we had them fill out forms including their jump times and the color of their canopy and gear and clothing descriptions.) It was mad chaos. It probably also didn't help that we had a giant TV right behind us showing footage from earlier in the day. Everyone was trying to fit into a very tiny spot in order to catch a glimpse of their 30 seconds of glory. I think we might have sold more in an hour stretch than the two days combined. Bryan was there to keep us company and to bring us beer though. Drunken jumpers are definitely good for something.

Eventually, we had a respite when the jumpers were called away to their final meeting to pick up their prizes for landing accuracy and a slew of other things I don't know about because I wasn't there. We did have a few stragglers that had been at the back of room unable to get to us, but at least we had roughly an hour of peace and quiet to ourselves. Then, the angry mass came back demanding to watch more of their footage. Some of them missed the beginning from where we had left off and they got really irritated because they missed their jump. Too bad so sad my friend, buy the damn DVD!

Finally, the jumpers started heading out, whether to the bar or to bed, so we were able to shut off the footage and pack up shop. Our weary bunch made our way back to our cabin with the thought of the hot tub in mind. However, when we got there, a hot shower and soft bed were more appealing than anything else. Mico and Paola headed to bed, Meredith and I both took showers, Alex crashed and Ben mingled around trying to decide if the hot tub or shower was more appealing. I was in bed before I heard what he decided. We needed to be up pretty early to head out of town in order to get to Indy for Alex to catch his flight.

Sunday dawned, along with a gorgeous sunrise and no rain to be seen anywhere. Of course not. We made our trek to Bob "Eeevans" as Paola pronounced it for breakfast, then the 6 hour drive back to Indy. We shaved an hour off our previous time due to only stopping twice for potty breaks and not having rain to slow us down any. Meredith was nice enough to let me nap for awhile so I could drive back to St. Louis later that day. Somehow I managed to rock it out and make the remaining four hour drive like a champ. A call to my sister might have helped keep me awake as well.

Overall, the experience was pretty amazing. Despite the ridiculously awful weather and lack of sleep, I had a great time. I met a lot of great people, learned a ton about base jumping and sold the shit out of the DVD. I'd consider that a success. Thanks to Ben and Meredith for inviting me along and letting me help out. Hopefully if Ben is asked to do it again next year, Mother Nature is a bit kinder.
I have one more video to post, but I guess it's once again too big to upload. It's driving me crazy, but I'll see if I can get it to work. It's a nice video of three people jumping at once, and then one of the landings. I'll see what I can do!