I drove to actual Fort Worth for a freelance assignment last night. And I’m not about to compare my work as a freelance journalist traveling to Fort Worth on assignment to war journalists traveling to Iraq to put their life on the line, but like, it wasn’t easy. And I get it now. I’m a war veteran.
So I drive to Fort Worth after work in 6 o’clock traffic, using Apple Maps, with 36 percent charge on my cracked iPhone and I’m not saying I’m a hero, but like I’ll let you say it.
I arrive in downtown Fort Worth and it’s downtown, so there’s no parking. I haven’t had an anxiety attack yet, which is freaking me out. I’m like ok I just spent an hour in the car and no attack, what’s the matter with me, am I even alive right now. Am I a ghost version of myself. Can anyone even see me.
So I find a place to park and I ask the woman in the parking booth where the jazz club is that I’m going to and what do you know, she doesn’t have a clue and she actually was just released from being kidnapped for 45 years because I’m not positive she knows where she even is. She tells me the address, like I don’t already know and tells me to walk down the street until I find it.
I’m walking, I’m walking, I’m walking when all of a sudden I see this giant lit-up sign with the name of the jazz club on it. It’s literally pointing toward an abandoned elevator straight out of The Twilight Zone. I click on the elevator button to go down a few times and what do you know, nothing happens. I’m like I’m not dying tonight, nor am I getting stuck in an elevator so I decide no way in hell am I using that elevator because elevators scare the actual shit out me and I’m not getting on one if there’s even just a little bit of difficulty or if it looks at all sketchy or if it’s putting off bad vibes.
So I do my best detective work and find another elevator and by that I mean, I walked around until I found it. I head down to the basement and enter the jazz club.
I ask the nice bartender woman when the show starts, can I just sit here, can I have a Dr Pepper because #DryJanuary and she’s like ma’am, let me get you someone who works here.
So the woman “who actually works there” is like how can I help you. I say I’m on the list, I’m not a groupie, don’t get it twisted, meaning I’m not pretty or slutty enough for that, I’m really just here to interview the musician playing tonight.
“Well, we don’t technically open until 7 p.m.”
*looks at iphone clock*
*It says 6:55 p.m.*
“Oh, well I can just hang out outside the club for five minutes until then,” I say to her, completely thinking she would say that’s ridiculous, come on in and enjoy a nice cold DP.
“Yeah, that would work. You can go to Starbucks across the street.”
oh. ok. k. ok then. I was just kicked out of a jazz club and I’m not even drunk dancing on a table, this is a first.
So I go to Starbucks and my phone is now on 19 percent at this point. There are outlets everywhere and I have a cord for a charger, but not the actual charger, so really I do understand what it’s like to struggle.
I buy a bottle of water that I know I’m not going to drink, but I have to buy something or else I feel like a douchebag who just sits in Starbucks and takes up room to do nothing. I watch a guy sit on his laptop and look at the worst Halloween costumes by celebrities and I’m like it’s January??????? How did you even stumble upon that article??? What are you doing???? Who are you????
At about 7:20 p.m., I headed back to the club to be there in time for my 7:30 interview. I walk in and the hostess woman is like oh yeah, the musician is there.
And the musician was there all right, standing there, waiting for me oh god, it wasn’t humiliating at all.
I walk over to the musician and introduce myself and he looks so nice. Like, I mean he is performing later that night, but like I look like a troll. I’m wearing a white button-up shirt and jeans and GET THIS- cat flats. (i’ve blogged about the cat flats before and how tragic they are but they are so easy because they don’t require socks.)
We sit down in a cozy little booth and my hair is like the opposite of brushed. There are lit candles everywhere and he offers me a drink and there’s jazz music playing in the background and I’m like oh, ok, we’re on a date.
“This feels like a date.” -the musician
So I start asking my questions blah blah blah and then all of a sudden, a guy appears with a camera and the musician is like, “Oh, yeah, my management was wondering if we could video the interview.”
oh, that’s fine, my half-up bun with a leopard rubberband and cat flats are completely ready for a close-up, please continue, please video me for everyone, pls. i’m erin andrews.
So they video the entire thing while jazz music is playing in the background and the musician keeps making jokes about how we are on the Bachelorette and I am just like so we’re dating now. i’m on a date. i’m wearing cat flats and i’m on a faux date. everything is fine.
|us at this point.|
I leave and go shake the musician’s hand and he kind of makes fun of me and I’m like oh ok so we really are dating because only boyfriends make fun of girls, and I just am not ready for a relationship, but this feels right. ok. this is good. can’t wait to change my fb status.
I head back out and find the elevator and get back in.
la la la, it goes down and then I hear this noise like the door opened…
…but the door didn’t open. It was like the split second when you’re on the Tower of Terror in Disney World and you know the elevator is supposed to open but it doesn’t, instead it just drops. I was like this is fine, it’s just an elevator, i’m just stuck, it’s just downtown fort worth, my phone is just on 9 percent, it’s fine.
|i swear i saw them|
I freak out for about three seconds and then realize the back of the elevator opened and what do you know, I’m back in a dark alley in the same elevator I swore I wouldn’t get in.
I run out and run back to my car and pay a small amount of $5 to get out of the parking lot, where I was parked for one hour. The woman in the parking booth takes about 50 seconds to make change from my $20. God bless her.
I drive back and almost run out of gas all while on 9 percent battery while my friends are blowing up my messages about a stupid TV show.
|wtf is this convo|