...it wasn't a good day
07.11.05
One of the things I needed to accomplish during vacation was to get continuing education hours. Well, it wasn't exactly during the vacation, but more like the personal day after the vacation.
I was going to go to see Manuel Rodriguez, an acclaimed Pivot Point educator and platform artist, teach a class about skill building, and also demonstrate recent trend releases.
I knew the class was at the Holiday Inn Mart Plaza, 350 N. Orleans, in Chicago, but I didn't really know how to get there, so I made sure to download the directions to the place onto my pda.
And when I got in the car, I realized that I had apparently
not downloaded anything to my pda, and certainly didn't have time to go back upstairs and try again. I was giving myself a 55 minute window to get from my house to the class, which should have been more than enough, but I also know that I can lose track of time doing stuff like sitting in front of the computer, so I was just being cautious.
So, I called Tifling on my cell phone, using the speakerphone feature, and got directions from her as how to best reach the destination.
She said to get off the LSD at Wacker, and then head west to Orleans, which I did.
I drove north on Orleans, and realized that I was up in the 400's, so I had to turn around somewhere and try again.
What I was mostly looking for was the "new Holiday Inn parking ramp across the street from the hotel," because if you're attending a class, you can get $5 validated parking. I figured it would be clearly emblazoned with the Holiday Inn logo, and since I didn't see it, I figured I must have passed it.
So, I turned west onto Hubbard, then headed south on Kingsbury, turned east on Kinzie, and then pulled over and called Tifling again.
She was as confused as I was about why there was no clearly marked Holiday Inn anywhere, and that 350 N. Orleans appeared to be the Merchandise Mart. She tried valiantly to help, but it was to no avail, and I let her get back to work.
I saw someone outside what appeared to be a loading dock at the rear of the Merchandise Mart, and asked where the Holiday Inn was located.
He said that I needed to get on Orleans again, and that I'd see it there. I also asked where the parking ramp was, and he didn't know.
So, of course, I turned immediately north on Orleans from Kinzie, and found myself up in the 400's again.
More circling occurred, frustration built, and time passed rapidly. I had less than 15 minutes to get to this class, and I still couldn't find the hotel.
Despairing, and heading south again on Kingsbury, I decided to turn into an area that had a sign saying there was a loading dock to the south, and see what happened.
What happened was that I discovered the parking lot immediately south of the Merchandise Mart, clearly stating that it was the designated parking area for the Holiday Inn. So, I pulled in, parked my car, and looked up the hill at a couple of not-particularly-well-displayed banners on the front of the building denoting a Holiday Inn within. I also noted that the sign at the lot's entrance had said that parking there for more than 5 minutes would incur crazy-ass huge charges.
I walked up stairs, with less than 10 minutes to the class, and into the building, heading straight for what looked like an information desk.
I asked the woman there where the new Holiday Inn parking ramp across the street from the hotel was, because I sure as hell couldn't see one, and I was in a hurry.
A guy who looked like maintenance or something, said that I had to get back on Orleans, and it was immediately to the north, off Hubbard.
I had seen the ramp when I was driving around, but it hadn't had anything on it about hotel parking, so I'd ignored it. And also because it wasn't immediately across the street from the hotel. In fact, the only thing technically across the street from the hotel was either the
Chicago River to the south, or, across Orleans,
more Merchandise Mart to the east. Neither of which are a
parking ramp.
As I walked out of the building and back towards my car, tears of frustration started to well up, but not burst forth. I now had less than 5 minutes to get to the ramp, park, walk back to the Merchandise Mart, find the Holiday Inn inside, and then locate the class.
I left the lot for free, I made it to the ramp, I parked my car, I walked back to the Mart, found the hotel, and located the class, but rolled on up to the registration area about five minutes after it had started. And the class was only 1 hour long, so I was feeling hopeless, but figured that I could at least check in at registration for the class that was 1 hour & 55 minutes later.
In Iowa, if you are late for a class, too fucking bad for you. Not only do you not get to go to the class, but you also don't get a refund. You're just hosed.
As I approached the registration desk, I noted that the door to the classroom was open, which seemed odd. I asked if it was still possible to get into the class, and they said that I totally could, and checked me in, collecting the $10 fee for the session.
One of the women behind the desk felt compelled to tell me that the class was in Spanish, and I told her that I already knew that, so she shrugged and went back to whatever she was doing before she got all informative.
I don't speak Spanish particularly well, but I can understand it somewhat. I often joke that I am fluent in shampoo-bottle Spanish, since I can understand pretty much all of the words that have anything to do with hair, courtesy of the multilingual ingredients and instructions I've been looking at for the last 12+ years. And, I have a pretty firm grasp of the English language, and am also able to extrapolate what many words mean from their Latinate roots.
Even if I didn't know that "verde" was green in Spanish, I would know it from either "vert" being green in French, or that "verdant" means green in English.
So, I did just fine in the class. I even took notes.
Manuel was talking about how in order to build business, you need to combat many problems that stylists have, most of which I am already aware about and don't feel the need to list here -- you know, basic stuff like talking too much about themselves and not listening enough to their clients, lacking self-confidence, etc.
He also went off on some tangent about how to be the optimum stylist, you need to have a well-balanced diet -- lots of vegetables and fruit are apparently the key to healthy living. And that many problems can be fixed with dietary changes. (A timid nature can be strengthened with spinach, and that people that hold stress in their stomachs should eat red beets.) He recommended that everyone check out
The Juiceman's Power of Juicing, by Jay Kordich, for more information on the subject.
And then he showed some cool hairstyles, and some woman came out and did makeup on a teenage girl, which made her look like a hoochie. Why Latin women feel the need to rim their eyes with kohl, inside and out, is beyond me. It makes the eyes look tiny, and the woman look cheap and whorish, especially when combined with strong lip color.
The class dragged on until about 12:35, which was about 35 minutes longer than it was supposed to be, and since the next class was supposed to start at 1pm, I didn't think that I should leave and go explore the Mart, seeking sustenance. So, I drank my water, and stuck it out until the second class ended at 4pm.
The second class was strictly a trend class, where Manuel and a woman proceeded to simultaneously cut and color and style a long series of models, most of whom I felt sorry for after witnessing what was being done to their hair.
One thing to understand about trend shows like this, is that it is much like couture fashion shows -- no one really wears a dress with one shoulder missing and a boob hanging out on the other side, but it demonstrates that peek-a-boo cut outs, asymmetrical styles, and shoulders will be big for the following season. The same thing happens with the hair. The artists show these extreme, crazy, exaggerated styles and we're supposed to take from them that texture is back for the Summer and Fall, haircolors are trending towards being more diffused and pastel, and less bold (fine strawberry blonde highlights vs. fire red all over), and that asymmetrical layers and a strong geometric fringe are hot hot hot.
The only weird thing about the whole class was that when Manuel started talking, he would sometimes address himself as though he were the class, making some sort of point like, "So I said to myself, Manuel, if you want to do this, you have to keep trying..." or "Manuel, you need to do thus-and-such..." but at some point, it devolved into him starting every statement with his name. "Manuel, the next color I am going to apply is pink..." "Manuel, does anyone in the audience have any questions?" "Manuel, how are you doing over there, Other Platform Artist?"
It was surreal.
It was also, strangely enough, very educational, and I actually picked up a lot of really good info to keep in mind when doing formal hairstyles. (I also actually learn stuff from watching the stylists work on
Blow Out, btw.) And of course, I picked up on all the latest trends. Duh.
So, after the class I realized that I had already pre-paid for the first class, so I got my con ed forms signed, and my $10 back. And then I went downstairs and waited in line forever to get my ramp ticket validated.
As I handed it to the girl behind the hotel counter, she told me that she couldn't validate it because it wasn't from their parking ramp.
I told her that I had been directed by someone in the Mart to the lot to the north, and she told me that she was sorry, but that was the old Holiday Inn ramp, and now they had one of their own. She also tried to give me directions to the ramp, for the future. Apparently you can only access the ramp when you are coming across the river on Orleans.
So, when I walked back outside, I tried to see if I could spot the ramp from the hotel. I could see a bridge, and a river, and buildings, but no ramp.
Sighing, I walked back to the wrong Holiday Inn parking ramp, paid $22 for parking, and then tried to find my car, which took a while.
I hate those parking ramps that have the weird wrap-around parking that means you aren't necessarily parked on the same level that the floor on the elevator visits, despite the same number being used in both places. I was parked in space 7-45, on the 7th floor. When you get off the elevator on the 7th floor, the parking ends at 7-33, and then turns into 8-## spaces if you go around the corner.
And this was the straw that broke the camel's back.
I was starving and my stomach hurt, I was upset about the money, and the driving around in circles, and the bad directions from people that work at the Mart, and the pda not having directions on it in the first place, and then I couldn't find my car.
And I started to cry. And cry. And cry some more. And wandered around looking lost and confused, until I eventually located my car -- I still have no idea where it was. I just stumbled across it at some point and got inside. Then I snuffled a bit, and decided it wasn't worth the tears, so I dried my eyes and started the car.
All I wanted to do was to get in my car and drive real far. Well, mostly I really wanted to just go home where the parking is pre-paid, eat something to make the burning ache subside, and climb back into bed and fall asleep in the blessed a/c, which I did eventually do, in that order.
But first, I decided to circle around again and come up Orleans across the bridge to find this fantasy parking ramp with the $5 parking, and I couldn't see it. In retrospect, I saw a place you could turn in to the left, right after the bridge, but it sure as hell didn't look like a ramp, and I'm pretty sure I remember seeing some sort of blockade in the middle of it. Fuck if I know.
I also decided that I wasn't going to go to the class that was being held there in September, and would instead attend the one in August, at the Stephens Convention Center in Rosemont. I know where the fuck it is, and I kn0w where the fuck to park, and that it's only $11, which is still too much but much less than $22.
Of course, relating this story to others, I was repeatedly told that I should have just ridden the Brown Line train over the the Mart. It's cheaper, easier, and you don't have to deal with traffic.
I think I need more red beets in my diet.
