It’s been a month since last I picayuned and a lot is going on but, then, I’m not here to tell you everything. This is a picayune. But a couple of perfectly picayune things happened on the way to Shakespeare in the Arboretum.
Shakespeare in the Arb
The Arb is a an arboretum in Ann Arbor. Like, I’m guessing that someone named Ann founded the city of Ann Arbor, which was thick with trees at some point. Then, after noticing most of the trees were getting chopped down, someone had the bright idea of creating an arboretum.
The Arb is a treasure and is something you should visit if you ever get a chance. I hadn’t visited in a few years when my friend suggested we watch U of M’s summer production of Much Ado About Nothing, a comedy by Shakespeare.
But my wife and I soon realized that we were in our own comedy of errors as we ventured to the restaurant where we were to meet our friend.
Mistake #1
Our first mistake was departing late, but my wife and I do that often so it was just one of those things. But it added pressure. Still, I put the name of the restaurant, “The Dixboro Project,” into GPS and off we went.
Dixboro is one of those suspicious names. Like a wise guy asks you, “What’s the capitol of Thailand,” and, when you answer, “Bangkok,” he kicks you (“bang”) in the groin.
To wit:
How do you get to Dixboro? Well, it’s on the way to Scrotum City but if you find yourself in Up-Your-Buttville, you’ve gone too far.
Anyway, as we drive along a country road, the GPS announces, “You have arrived,” and I park the car and walk into a home that’s been converted into the Dixboro General Store. We are way off the beaten path, so the presence of a general store is not too surprising. I assume there’s a restaurant around back, and we wander amongst the scented candles and novelty pot holders until we realize that it’s just a store. No restaurant here.
Turns out, the restaurant was another quarter mile up the road.
The Dixboro Project
Dinner was nice, but a little too nice—the beer and wine were very nice—and our next mistake is not watching the clock. We’re going to be late and parking at The Arb is always an issue.
Rushed once again, I pull into the official “Nicholls Arboretum” parking lot, not realizing it’s a good half mile walk to where we check in for the play. Lugging chairs and supplies, we walk as quickly as possible.
We miss our turn on the foot path and soon we are walking next to train tracks, headed for Ypsilanti the hard way, clearly beyond the boundaries of The Arb.
As we backtrack, we can hear the voices of the actors through the woods, and the laughter of the audience. But there’s no direct path and I don’t want to stumble through the woods and risk encounters with poison ivy, ticks, or Ann Arbor hippies still hiding out from the 1970s.
We hike back to the entrance where we’re told the production moves from site to site within the Arb, but we can follow the signs and catch up to them.
They Went That-a-way
By the time my wife and I find the actors, we’ve walked over two miles since leaving the car. Our friends gave up, citing various medical conditions—fallen arches, lumbago and whatnot—and really I don’t blame them.
Much Ado About Nothing is well into the second act when my wife and I settle down in the meadow; but we catch on quickly to the story. My friends, the rest of the evening was a delight. The air was cool, the insects subdued, and the players were hot.
We log another mile and a half walking around with the production, but it’s fun! If you ever get the chance, please watch a live production of Shakespeare in the park.
However, we weren’t done with comedic errors for the night.
Porta-Potties
On the way out, I went to use one of two porta-potties to relieve myself before the hike to the car. As I stood there waiting my turn, I heard a woman’s voice inside one of the potties call out, “Excuse me, but is there any toilet paper in there?”
“Afraid not,” came the reply from the other potty.
While taking my turn, I heard the woman on the phone calling a friend, asking her to rescue her with some form of tissue paper. “Anything,” she pleaded.
The only paper product I had to offer was cash. Alas, I only had crisp twenty dollar bills, fresh from the ATM, and I fear the return on investment for chivalry is not what it used to be.
I didn’t linger to find out how that misadventure ended. I know from experience that anonymity is valued greatly when dealing with toilets. And I’ve heard it said that discretion is the greater part of valor.
Meanwhile, at My Writing Desk…
I’m making final revisions to the novel before sending it out for a last sanity check. Then I’ll start a querying process to see if I can land an agent.
I still love self-publishing, but watching my buddy Abe get picked by Oprah has gotten in my head like one of those brain beetles Khan used on Chekhov in the second Star Trek movie. I don’t know Oprah’s selection process, but, at this point, the brain beetle is not interested in logic.
And I still haven’t heard back from the MacArthurs about my genius fellowship award thing.
I’m also working on some short humor pieces, so maybe I’ll have something to share in a couple of weeks.
Maybe You’d Like
I’m joining with some authors on a thriller giveaway so take a look and check out these covers. Maybe one will grab your attention like a brain beetle.
https://storyoriginapp.com/to/42jIlXT
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Next Picayune
I’m going to the Moth next week, so let’s hope I have something fun to report in two weeks when next I write to you.
Thanks for reading the Mickey Picayune.
All the best,
Mickey
P.S. If you like my colorful humor in this newsletter, you may enjoy The Forgettable Marriage of Lina and Joe!