Welcome to another out of sequence day, but there are no rules governing chronology. Translated into New Age, I’m a free spirit writer, free to write what moves me. I’ve decided to wait until 6:15 PM and drive to Miami to see if the club with the 3D printer takes walk-ins. Their on-line registration didn’t impress me. If nobody's home, it also happens to be near Churchill’s, which is where I’ll find JP. GPS says this is a 17 minute trip. Check back to see how it worked out.
Always put the picture of the babe with the sidecar near the top. I don’t know my readership demographics, but I know what I’d like to see first. Kind of sets the mood. This picture doesn’t do the lady justice, she stood around five-nine. Just a passerby, but such pix help dispose any silly notions about my ability to meet women. Meeting them is NOT the problem. As you see, they stop to talk, which, if they are my type, gives me infinite leeway to say the right things. I found LAB @ Miami. Not exactly the best of neighborhoods, it is amidst that Soviet-era chunk of dilapidated north Miami, near the design district. They’ve splashed paint on the buildings but it is still adjacent to Lemon City and along the former railyards. I’m reserving judgment because I did not get into the building. There was no meeting this Friday, I took a chance because part of my plan was to just show up and see what reception I got.
It is part of a common workshop area, with meeting rooms and a small array of tools and video projectors. From what I could see, it is not that much better equipped than we are over here, and certainly we are more specialized for what we do. The place looks secure but it has to be considering where it is located, see photo. Four blocks west of the Mexican slums. Maybe their next advertised meeting I’ll chance it again.
Now, the place is just two miles from the Church. That’s Churchill’s Pub, where I used to hang out in my pre-heart attack days. Have not been there on a Friday in six or seven years, so I sauntered in. Ka-boom, if it wasn’t the old crowd. Nicki’s there, Penrod Bob, I spent ten minutes just saying hello, and that isn't easy with my famous inability to recall names. Sadly, Bob (the former patron I searched for in St. Augustine last May) has passed on. JP was not there, still, it was like a home-coming. When I worked, I stopped first at the library after work, then in there for a beer. All things considered, I was not really a customer all that long. That’s also where I met the Space Hippie.
Here’s some meaningless chatter. The Churchill trip did not take place until evening. I’d loved to have gone out for the day. But I couldn’t think of any place I haven’t been already. Every had that happen? Geez, Ken, that was a rhetorical question. I said the TomTom GPS had no title field, but it turns out you can flag it as a favorite, and that section lets you type in a meaningful name. But none of this is in the instructions probably because there are no instructions. My drill press turns out to be a $400 (new) Central Machinery rig and I cannot find any specs for the chuck key. Why do they even make chucks that need keys any more?
We go over to Barnett’s and find there are eight different sizes of key. And you know Barnett, no returns except for store credit. One alternative is to dismantle the press and take it in on the motorcycle. Yep, eight sizes, none of which are stamped into the metal which fits what. You know the real reason America is slip-sliding away? Because people like this have the money.
Last, here is me inside Churchill’s. This is why you don’t let other people take your picture. You get photo-bombed. This guy is a drummer at some club up the road and drops in here for cheap drinks on his breaks. He’d spotted my popularity and introduced himself. So this photo is somewhat staged. But what isn’t in the entertainment world?We got to talking and there is one thing we (he, I, and his girlfriend) have in common. A concrete aversion to Florida lead guitar players. When he brought the subject up, I knew he was for real. He plays punk grunge, known for its complete lack of quality guitar playing and he still detests the lead guitar ego as much as I do. I mean, I don’t just dislike fat-headed guitar players. They can shove their guitars sideways.
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