Tuesday, March 18, 2008

The Angina Monologues Part II

As the sniffing and weeping woman placed her painted glassware on the shelves she brought, I wondered to myself exactly what I'd gotten into this time. I unpacked the boxes, and started placing the displays on the table. The Weeper told me that the tables next to mine were her friend, who sold pushpins, and "It didn't take her long to set up at all. Some people have all the luck!"

After an hour, I had pretty much gotten all the display stuff set up properly, and was ready to place the jewelry. The other woman had joined us. They loudly bantered back and forth, oblivious to me in the corner.

I learned that Weeper had been weeping because the organizers of the craft show had placed her in one area, and the Pushpin lady (her friend) in another, AND THEY HAD TO BE TOGETHER, BECAUSE THEY ALWAYS DID SHOWS TOGETHER, THE NERVE OF SOME PEOPLE!!

Meanwhile, my chest was aching like crazy, and my heart was doing it's little fluttery thing that it does once in awhile. The room was tiny, and full of the Weeper's hot air as she bitched and moaned to Pushpin. It was getting really claustrophic. My face was beet red, and I felt like hell. But I figured I only had to get this mess set up before the folks started arriving in droves, which would shut up the Weeper.

When the droves arrived, they turned out to be various and sundry little old ladies, their walkers and their scooters, who were all looking for cutesy bowling themed items for their corkboards at the home. (Walkers & bowling? Who knew. I'm betting it's a Wii thing)

The Weeper continued on and on about her exceptionally gifted children, and her exceptional cat, and her job which pays less than what high school kids get for babysitting. Her cell phone rang loudly three or four times, and each time she squealed and jumped. Her kids were calling to see if she wanted them to bring her dinner. (Bad form in my opinion, if you're a vendor at a show sponsored by a church, who was kind enough to give menus to vendors, the least you can do it eat there, it is, after all, a benefit) She wanted a shake from Arby's, and the kids apparently told her shakes weren't available, because the machine was down. This prompted her to rant, "THE SHAKE MACHINE IS BROKEN? DON'T THESE PEOPLE KNOW HOW TO FIX A SHAKE MACHINE?!"

And my chest hurt more.

After an hour or so, Weeper's family arrived. A small pale man, a small pale little boy (the gifted muscian you know, because Mom was a gifted violin player) and a pasty little girl with circles under her eyes, whose first words were, "I had the worst day of my WHOLE LIFE today." Poor thing, she's only six. They were all giddy with delight, for they DID bring Weeper a shake, ha-ha, aren't we clever! But the ham and swiss sandwich had too much mayo. "WHAT DOES LIGHT MAYO MEAN TO YOU??" They all stood around and looked at each other while Weeper went on and on about the shortcomings of her ham & cheese. I was very invisible.

At 7:45, I was silently rejoicing because it was almost time to leave this room, and my chest gave a big THUD-DUD, and it felt liked someone shoved a knitting needle into the middle of my chest. Oh shit. It's THE chest pain, I thought. Maybe I'll be okay, it wasn't anything. Yeah, that's it. I'll get home and lay down in the quiet, and everything will be okay.

Tomorrow: Part III (Yes, I'm milking it out)

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