"David, this doesn't mean I'm going to see anything - does it?" one teammate asked with a tremble in her voice "Because I really don't want to see anything. really, I don't. so, please - don't".
What she was referring to, was a quote I had made on more then one occasion to more then one party; "When I finally escape this shithole I'm telling all these assholes that they can kiss the pink part of my white ass!" .
I never threatened to expose myself as part of my fantasy departure scenario but I don't think anyone was convinced that I wasn't above it. "Well," I said looking at her concerned expression "You never know!", and with that her expression turned into one of complete pain.
It's funny to me that she went so far as to call off on my last day - I mean, really, what exactly did she expect ? I was promoted - not fired! The only thing shocking I did on my last day was to get a little overwhelmed by it all , and cry. I don't even know what triggered it really, my tears are usually reserved only for Disney movies of a princess distinction, but there I was in the last 10 minutes of my old job sobbing like a baby , cradled in the large black arms of a 300 pound female coworker .
The day after this uncharacteristic meltdown , I tried to pull myself back together with a typically bizarre plan to meet actor Patrick Bristow . Patrick is best know for his work on the sitcom "Ellen" but better known to me for his work in my favorite movie of all time ,"Showgirls" . The plan, would have me and George meeting him at The Center For Puppetry Arts, where he would have gladly posed for a picture with each of us before signing my copy of the 1999 Fall Preview T.V. Guide that featured an exclusive look at Patrick's and costar Jaleel "Urkel" White's then all-new sitcom "Grown Ups" , a show likely cancelled before the preview guide hit the stands. My plan turned out to be about as doomed as "Grown - Ups" , when I learned that his appearance at the puppet show was videotaped, not live. It upset me to think that I wouldn't have another picture of myself with someone that nobody knew or cared about other then me .
To make matters considerably worse, I learned that same day that the legendary Bea Arthur had passed away, and with this news I suddenly longed for the dark pendulous arms that held me the day before . That evening George and I honored Bea by watching one episode of "Maude" , two episodes of "The Golden Girls" and by eating (collectively ) three slices of cheesecake. While we watched I reflected upon one of the highlights of my life , which was seeing Bea on Broadway in her one-woman show several years earlier. I managed to get a front-row seat, which only added to my pleasure, as I knew I was the envy of every old queen in the place. To this day, I still manage to catch the cataract-inflicted eyes of an older gentlemen but, it doesn't feel quite as glamorous as it did on the night of Bea's show.
On my first day of work at that new job I wondered into the men's room and noticed four old men whispering to one another near the sink , which aroused my suspicion - and that only. The scene that followed resembled playing a round of the arcade game "Pac-Man" with me taking the titular role. Sensing my presence the eyes of these four ghost all turned towards the corners of their heads as I passed them, and within seconds they moved to corner me in the maze. With no interest in eating any of the cavorting fruit that presented itself to me, I exited the game.
Later that day, my boss told me "You know everyone is really excited you're here. I think that this is going to be a perfect fit - don't you?" .
Her sentiment was just an echo of what the welcoming committee had already attempted to demonstrate to me earlier in the restroom, but I did agree with her - this was, at the time, a perfect fit. For years to come it could be as comfortable as my one coworker's thick ebony arms had been to curl up inside of and then, at the same time, be just as easy to breakdown in. Ironically, it would be my other coworker who would prove to be the most perceptive , as she knew long before I did , that the "pink part" of me , that soft, sensitive side was about to be exposed.
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