1. There was going to be a "live" Best Show. Not a Best Show performed in front of an audience while being broadcast--the idea was that the only people who got to hear it were the people there in the live audience--no broadcast. With me so far? OK, so. About 30 of us got on a shuttle bus that took us to the venue, the ballroom of a large white mansion in the woods about 2.5 hours from New York.
We in the audience were each wearing a T-shirt individually hand-painted with bright, colorful abstract designs. Tom wore a series of pullover sweaters, each one with a pattern of black shapes over an off-white background.
For the show, Tom focused on each audience member, sequentially, for a five- or ten-minute segment. He and the audience member would sort of interview each other. Tom was warm, gracious, and seemed genuinely interested in what each person had to say--no GOMP hair-trigger, no ticking clock, no pressure to be funny or interesting. Until he got to me. At this point, his expression froze, he became completely unresponsive, and generally dripped with contempt.
I saw him in the hallway afterwards and called his name, hoping to ask what just happened there, but he either didn't hear me or purposely ignored me. He just kept walking.
Now it was after midnight, and apparently either the shuttle bus wasn't making the return trip or that service just wasn't available to me, for I was left to contemplate how I was going to manage the 2.5-hour trip back to New York.
2. I was in an e-mail exchange with Larry the Perv. We were plotting to rob a bank.
