Floyd, and my own little tantrum

9-14-99

This hurricane thing is bizarre. People just run away. I've never seen anything like it. There's no use running away from a blizzard, after all, and running away from a tornado is plain stupid. But a hurricane is just a big blob of...stuff...and you can see it coming, so people take off. Wow.

The hurricane seems more evil because it's named. You're not just escaping a storm, you're escaping Floyd. Big bully Floyd, plotting to wipe out the east coast.

All day the news flashes poured in at work: Savannah evacuated, I-16 blocked off and one-way'ed, gas prices up 15 cents. The trip from Savannah to Atlanta, normally a 4-4.5 hour drive, is now 14 hours. 14 freaking hours in the car. And when you arrive in Atlanta, you'll have to sleep in your car, because there are no motel rooms to be had.

Such excitement! If we get enough rain that it floods, work might get called off. Odds of that happening: slim. But still.

I had a brief talk with a band director today. Things look either good or bad for my private teaching career, depending on your angle. Of course, I automatically chose the bad angle. I need to work on that.

The story is this: they've tried to set up teachers in the schools, but it "never worked." No specific reason why it didn't, it just didn't. Kids, if they take lessons, usually go through one of the "conservatories." Yeah. There are conservatories here, and they're all in the churches. Basically: a church provides the space for teaching, the teacher comes in and the kids come in. This is my community music school idea, so zilch on that. Doh.

I have, essentially, two choices. One: I can call up the Baptist Church and ask them if they need a brass instructor, then I go recruit kids and teach 'em. Two: I can start my own school. That would probably create unnecessary tension and competition, and I'd probably have to do it at a different church, anyway, so, well, it just wouldn't work. Nothing works, agh.

The saga of wine-related discrimination continues....

First off, I have to say this: John thinks I'm over-reacting, so here's a big middle finger just for you, babe.

We went to the nasty wine store again, the one where the chick acted like I didn't know shit because I'm a woman. Or maybe she had some other reason, I may have offended her in some way, but I can't figure out what it was I did. I guess I did it again. We went in there tonight and the owner was there. Yucky Chick was not there. This older guy was there and he seemed okay, though he ignored me while talking to John. I'm okay with that.

When we were paying for the bottle we picked up, the owner told John that he had a couple of bottles open for sampling. John said great, so Wine Bastard popped the sucky-vacuum thingy off a bottle of merlot and grabbed a plastic cup. A plastic cup. One plastic cup. He poured a bit into the cup and then re-attached the vacuum to the bottle. Handed the cup to John and started the wine chat.

What does one do? Smile and act interested in discussing the wine, even though one's not drinking it? Act like a coy, brainless wifey? Walk out? I hated him for the indecision he caused for me more than anything. I mean, really. He's the inconsiderate, sexist, bastard. Why am I uncomfortable?

I intently studied the Wine Spectator. I waved away the cup when John, who was pretty darn uncomfortable, offered it to me. He knew what he was in for on the way home. Finally, I wandered out and looked at the displays of wine glasses in the store. When Wine Bastard went to help a customer, I whispered to John and then I went next door to the pet store to wait for him to finish up.

John apologized, initially, and mentioned how fucking weird it was that I'd been ignored. He sympathized for a few minutes. Then he started justifying. Oh, the guy's used to wives who only come in with their husbands, the women don't usually know or care about wine. What-fucking-ever. You don't just offer wine to one person and not the other, no matter what their gender is. Even if I went in and said I didn't fucking DRINK wine, that Bastard should have offered it, god, it's basic courtesy.

I hate that wine store. I get dissed every time I go in there. It's detrimental to my marriage. That's right, folks, The Wine Vineyard, at 96 and Houston Lake. What a fucking pretentious name.