BizarroCon 2016: Day One

THURSDAY

I was up all night packing for my departure. As always, I was full of nervous energy. I managed to watch a few of my shows (can’t remember which) and finally went to bed at 2am, allowing just two hours until wake-up time at 4am.

Dad was my ride to the airport but I had to wait an hour at our workplace, which allowed me to nap/rest for about an hour as the car sat in the quiet, dark parking lot. This is not unusual, as I always drive with him to work.  He goes in an hour-and-twenty minutes earlier, allowing me to nap. However, at the end of this rest I was embarking on my third BizarroCon.

My dad surprised me with twenty dollars of spending money before we took off. The ride was surprisingly short.

I was impressed with the whole experience of John Wayne Airport, which is as beautiful as that of Portland, and arguably Minneapolis. It really exemplifies the Southern California image. The only problem is no rail access.

Getting through security was a breeze. I had over two hours before my flight, which was by choice. I first browsed the shops looking for windbreakers. None of them were what I wanted, nor were they reasonably priced.

I then browsed the restaurants. I ultimately decided to go with Ruby’s. I had the jumbo cinnamon roll, beignets (which I dipped in coffee), their famous “spuds” (potatoes), and a bagel. I was sufficiently sated at the end of this sitting.

After stuffing myself, I decided to do some last minute route research for my photography visit to Portland’s Washington Park.

I then purchased bottled water. I made way to my boarding gate soon after.

Interestingly, I was seated next to a cute young blonde woman and her two cute children. She apologized to me for being in the children isle, but I reassured her that it shouldn’t be a problem with a subtle smirk.

Take-off had us flying over the ocean in a short amount of time, which reminded me of LAX take-offs.

I learned many things about the blonde woman and her family. I overheard that they were going to visit her mom’s farm, which apparently was in a snowy area. They had to transfer to another flight in Portland and then drive from that airport. This was all fascinating, I also overheard that she had a husband who wasn’t there for whatever reason.

The little girl’s leg often pushed into mine as she was stretching out, which bothered the mother more than me. I kind of liked it.

Additionally, the little boy made some strong eye contact with me with his big blue eyes, reminiscent of my own as a toddler.  At one point the mother was telling her daughter not to pick her nose, and told her she had to wait for tissue that they didn't have.  I had tissues and offered them up, which earned me a nice thanks and some inner satisfaction. This woman and her children were my favorite airplane neighbors to date.

Portland airport was nice and this time I was less rushed since I had caught my scheduled flight. Like Orange County, I browsed some stores, including Columbia, Nike, and others for windbreakers. All the windbreakers were rather unattractive and ranged from 80 to 120 dollars. No thanks.

I made my way to the red line train en route to downtown. My transfer point for a bus was Providence Park, and I had about 45 minutes until the next bus. At first irritated, I decided to look up local thrift shops that I may be able to walk to. Sure enough, there was a Goodwill store up Burnside, only about a 15-minute walk away.

I ended up finding a nice purple Columbia jacket for only 10 dollars!  Fuck you, Portland International.

After the bus came, my first stop was the Japanese Garden, which was still impacted by construction. Unfortunately, there was no Fall color of significance, but I managed to find some nice shots anyhow.

What stood out, though, was the show unfolding in the nearby tennis courts while I waited for the bus leaving the garden. A lewd and lascivious photo shoot was occurring in which a heavier woman was photographing a slender, jet black=haired woman with notably toned legs. This scene was turning many heads.

My next stop was Hoyt Arboretum. This was much bigger than the Japanese Garden, and with free admission. Sunlight was fading, so I had to focus on one area to hike to. I decided upon the redwoods, which included an impressive viewing deck. When I reached the redwoods, I was enveloped in a pine-scented paradise both tranquil and potentially horrifying (like in the tv show Grimm, which I understand is largely filmed in nearby Forest Park, and perhaps in Washington Park too), just the kind of vibe I was there for.

I hiked back and waited for the bus in the dark. It took a whole hour for the damn thing to arrive, but at least it did. There was a mixed race woman and her daughter in the bus, nobody else. As it turned out, we were both headed to the MAX station. Apparently, the woman didn’t know the area, so the bus driver told her to follow me. With that responsibility thrust upon me, I told him I didn’t know the area either. He pointed me in the right direction, which eliminated my doubts. The woman and her daughter followed me and we made it down to the lower level platform and waited for the train.

While waiting for about 8 minutes, the daughter said many things to me that I couldn’t decipher. Nonetheless, she was incredibly cute and sweet.

When the train came it was quite packed, both the woman and her daughter and I stood for the first few stops in the car’s center. I did my rapid/nervous clarinet fingers to alleviate some boredom, which the girl saw and decided to stop by physically seizing my hand and shutting it. Ah, such consideration.

Eventually, I made it to the transfer point for the Troutdale bus line at NE 82^nd street and I headed up to the stop, where I proceeded to walk in circles and twirl around a light pole, like I was in Singin’ in the Rain, to alleviate more boredom.

The bus ride to Edgefield was quite agreeable. At one point, a destitute looking man entered the bus with empty bottles, which he clung to his chest. When he sat down, he spent the whole time hunched over and gazing at a tiny screen on a flip-phone. This was one of the weirdest things I ever saw, and I was grateful for it.

When I checked in at the hotel, I had a peace of mind unlike my previous two visits. Finances were good and I was free to simply enjoy myself. Additionally, I had a private room to look forward to for two nights.

I got situated in my room before heading to the first night’s party. On the way, I loaded up with two coffees. At the party, a few people noted that I was double-fisted with some intrigue. Hey, I learned something, I encountered the term “double-fisted” for the first time. Good times. 

The Bizarro Raffle happened for the first time on Thursday night this year, and there weren't many prizes.

I found MP Johnson and shared my bus observation of the strange man with the cell phone, and solicited his feelings and opinions on it, if any. He asked, “What was on that screen?!” I said, “Just some text.” He replied, “Maybe that was the date of his death!”  I think we both realized he gave a cop-out response and that he wasn’t feeling the story like I hoped and imagined that he would.

That’s all I can remember before heading back to my room for the night. 

MAJOR CORRECTION

Wow, the perils of not writing things down when the memories are fresh. I was confusing the timelines of Thursday and Friday.

I visited the gift shop and bought a growler and some face wash and a stereo viewer for my iPhone.

I ate at the Black Rabbit Restaurant for the first time, which was on my Edgefield checklist. I had the restaurant to myself and I ordered the Bigeye Tuna. I also tried the Hard Cider.


The Ad House parties are sometimes hard to remember in their proper order. I'm still struggling to determine whether the following occurred on Thursday or Friday, but I'm going with Thursday. I had my first reunion of the year with William Perkins, professed fan of my blog from last year.  

Then he introduced me to Constance.

I was instantly hit by Constance's radiance and charm. Where had she been? Where had I? What a nice name, the kind of name I could shout across a room or a park, if I needed to, without hesitation.  There's both too much and not enough that I can say about her. Sentiments came flooding faster than I could process them.

Constance is the sort of girl I want to see more than once a year, much more.