The night was wet.
So it's dark and cold and wet and all drizzly. Driving in my new winter boots with 6-inch heels (put my 4-foot-ten-inch bod up into the clouds!) was like typing with fake nails. I kept gunning the gas and fumbling the clutch. Anyway, I couldn't find this Disjecta place where Booty Call 6 was supposedly being held. I'm ten minutes late and starting to panic. This is my big night out! I have to fucking get there. Let's go! So I pull into an empty lot and park and start walking. This is a very creepy part of town -- literally on the other side of the tracks. Light rail tracks, but hey -- I've just descended from the 'burbs. I walk past a pub and and around a corner, cross the street in my big tallness, past one of Portland's more illustrious landmarks -- the Dancing Bare strip club and clip-clop along until I see a sign that says, "Sidewalk ends." Fuck!
There is nobody around. Just junkyard dogs, chainlink fences and buzzing neon on the creepy corner market windows.
I head back to find a person to ask -- hopefully a friendly member of the species....where this fucking artsy fartsy Disjecta place is. Is it a trick to keep the dorks like me out? Did everyone else get "special directions?"
.....to be continued!