Notions on Being meets Shea of the Dead

Warning: Dad, I just want to mention that the following story may freak you out a bit. But I assure you, it has dawned on me that I should probably have taken more precaution... and when I meet other "friends from the Internet" in the future, I'll keep this in mind.

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This is certainly the most adventurous MIRL (meeting in real life, for those of you unversed in blogger lingo) I've experienced thus far, and I'll do my best to tell the story well.

Several months ago, I got a facebook invitation from Shea informing all invitees that sometime toward the end of the year, a friend of his from Macedonia would be coming to the United States to do tattoos. The invitation mentioned that if enough interest was generated in a particular region, Shea and said friend would make arrangements to add that region to their itinerary.

I immediately responded that if they were able to come to Texas, I'd be happy to be a participant. Fast forward several months to something like September, and I get an IM from Shea saying that they plan to be in the Austin area sometime after Thanksgiving. I immediately agreed to do whatever I could to work Austin into my busy schedule and began plotting what exactly I wanted to have tattooed.

After extensive deliberation, I decided this would be the time to get my phoenix... something I've wanted to have done since first I became enthralled with ink. So Shea sent me his friend's e-mail address, and I immediately wrote to him explaining what I wanted and why. [digression: Since childhood, I've been fascinated with phoenix mythology. Stravinsky's The Firebird is one of my favorite musical compositions. Fawkes from the Harry Potter series is one of my favorite characters. And most significantly, the phoenix has been known throughout history to represent both healing and rebirth... both very near and dear to my being. So yeah... that's the very brief explanation of the phoenix now beautifully inked on my back.]

Fast forward yet again, and we come to this past weekend. On Friday afternoon, Shea text messaged me the address of the house where I'd be meeting him and his friend, and I quickly Google mapped it and jotted down the directions. Then, on Saturday, December 13, I got in my car and drove to Austin. I stopped at my friend Amanda's apartment (where I planned to stay that night), had brunch with her and then hopped back in the car to drive to Wimberley, TX (about 40 miles southwest of Austin) where I'd soon meet Shea.

Now, this is where I was incredibly stupid (but, it should also be noted, totally lucky because everything turned out just fine). It didn't cross my mind to tell Amanda where I was going, leave her with the address... anything. And on top of that, none of my friends had the slightest inkling where I was going or what I was doing this weekend... aside from the fact that I was getting a phoenix tattoo in Austin. So yeah... as Shea pointed out, this could have been the perfect outline for a teen horror flick. [Again, Dad, it's okay... I know now. From now on, I'll always tell at least one person where I'm going and provide them with the address.]

Anyway... I get to Wimberley, follow the directions and end up right in front of the house matching the address Shea had provided. However, I didn't see the car he described as sitting right in front of the house. So I call him up to let him know I'm there. He goes outside. I don't see him. "Crap! I'm at the wrong house. But... but... this house totally matches the address!" Regardless, I start driving the other direction to see if I can figure out where we went wrong. Eventually we figured out that when Shea had given me the address, one word was wrong. Instead of Deer Field, the house was on Deer Ridge. Just one word off... but as we all know, when it comes to an address, one word can mean the world.

Anyway, long story short(er... still not really short, 'cause this is me)... Shea had to get in his car and come find me. Thankfully he was with another guy from the area who figured out where I was, and soon we were on our way to the correct house. When we finally got to the house, I got out of the car, and Shea and I officially met for the first time... after two years of blogland friendship. And to commemorate the occasion, I spent the following few hours sitting in a house in the middle of nowhere (seriously... there was a six-point buck hanging out in the backyard) that belonged to people I'll never know, with four guys I had never previously met and will probably never see again... all while getting an excruciatingly painful tattoo and trying as hard as I could not to cry. [another digression: I also want to make it clear that, while I did get a tattoo in a stranger's dining room, straddling a dining room chair... everything was done with extreme sanitary caution. I promise.]

Oh, how I love a good adventure.

And Shea... I'm so glad we finally met. I hope to see you again someday... but either way, at least we can always say we had a memorable introduction. Take care... (and don't forget to deliver those CDs to Z and Adam.)