It was 11:30pm. The flight was at 7am. We figured getting up at 3:30 would give us just enough time. 4 hours would have been more like an appetizer than anything--and a wanting appetizer at that.

Didn't even snag the waitress on that count.

I just laid there, hours passing like traffic lights on a lonely road. The idea of being tired didn't seem to sink in. It didn't seem relevant. Normally it'd bother me, but this time was different--and I accepted the severe sleep deprivation and how odd the world would seem.

So at 3:30am I felt about the same if a little fuzzy around the edges. Mom was perky. We goofed around and spoke in odd squeaky accents, completed by occasional sips from our triple shot toffee nut lattes. It was all like my little anchor of sanity, keeping me awake and alert, even excited with mom alongside me.

Getting to LAX was a snap. Checking in was simple. Sitting was kinda good too. At that point I was half conscious, so I thought it was a dandy time for studying Judaic mysticism and complex occult symbolism. I'd finally made my way down to the middle of the Tree of Sephiroth, down to Geburah. This was the sphere of severity, of boundless Justice and bringing everything into harmony by any means necessary. Funny enough, by contrast, I couldn't make it through 5 minutes of playing Tetris before it was too much for me.

The trip to Minneapolis was three hours. I did myself a service and promptly shut the window screen and my eyes. I don't recall sleeping, but it seemed to help slightly. The skip from Minneapolis to Madison was tiny by comparison, barely 35 minutes.

And then there I was, walking out to meet Dr. Crisco with a mixture of anxiety and hope. My new black slacks were finished with a black leather belt, my favorite long-sleeved purple dress shirt crawling up from the waist, all capped and caked in the cardigan wool trenchcoat I wore for special occasions.

I didn't think he'd mind semi-formal. After all, this would be his first impression of me.

As for my first impression of him, one word: relief. He had very distinctive eye wrinkles, the kind that formed with a lifetime of being happy or amused about things. They blended down to the usual set of smile wrinkles people like me had.

Initially he commented on the weather, I commented back; he joked, I laughed; he played tour-guide with amusing snippets thrown in occasionally. I felt genuinely pleased to know the man. He couldn't have been a more polar opposite of Dr. Zivago in terms of personality. I liked him alot already.

We moved through Madison at a moderate rate, from the airport to the giant Oscar Meyer factory, passing along century old rows of wood houses with bleached, pale colors. The leafless trees of winter were beautiful, set nicely against the permafrost and small patches of snow that'd finally let up in this 'spring' weather of 50 degrees (F). This section of town was more of the 'working class' area--and it looked it. The wooden houses were surrounded by bushes and trees, yet there was something so bleak but peaceful about them.

Along the way Dr. C guided me through a three page guide he'd made up for me, which included maps (thoughfully highlighted in pink) and even a full itinerary of what I'd be doing on monday. It was a great touch. At the time I was worried that my smiling or mirthful chuckling at his "as you can see on page 2" commentary may have been condescending. In all honesty, though, it was superbly pleasant for someone to give that much of a damn. The man even mentioned several events happening just that day which I could take advantage of.

Eventually we made our way to downtown where the state capital was located. The building was enormous and very Roman, palatially set, columned and even sporting a gold-cast statue on top of its giant Romanesque dome. We stopped nearby it as Dr. Crisco outlined State St., which was a walk-only street lined with shops, restaurants and pubs. He then helped me check into my hotel and left me to do whatever I wanted for the day.

Well, at that point, it was 2:30pm, my feet kinda hurt and I was getting used to the idea of being in a hotel room again. Hell, I was still getting used to the idea that I was in Wisconsin of all places.

The first thing that occurred to me was bringing out my camera and seeing what was outside my 4th story window. I saw an old Japanese man who meandered one way, then the other and back and forth on the sidewalk bordering the capital outskirts. I liked something about that shot. That got me to thinking that I should check out this State St. that Dr. C mentioned. So, with camera and full battery in tow, I went down and tried not to look completely out of place.

What struck me about the students around town was their diversity. You had the usual looking college people, but on occasion there were some hardcore punky people, or gothicky types. I remember a girl with bright pink hair and pink-white horizontal stripped leggings in front of me, her alongside a teenage Robert Smith clone. Some equally alternative people across the way said that she was cute. She waved and said thank you. That partly set the tone for the whole place. Still, I felt really damn old and pretty over-dressed..and for some reason my thinning hair was bothering me that day more than usual. I guess being around a college town atmosphere like that made me feel like I should still be that age.

I wandered from one side of State St. to the other, then around and about a few odd complexes, finally dodging back for food at a pizza chain called "Uno". I couldn't peg how it was familiar at first, but they had one of these at Harvard Square back when I was at a psych. lab there in Summer 2001. The waiter reminded me of Scary Goth Boy..well, a chunkier Wisconsin version, but the same voice and mannerisms. He treated me well and was fairly friendly. I felt a hell of alot better after I ate, so I left a good tip.

After the food I walked all over the place: by the water front, to the student union, back along the front lip of campus, through this weird-looking humanities complex, and along State St. again, all the while occasionally taking pictures. At first it was difficult doing that in front of people, but I gradually got more comfortable.

I weaved in and around the city until my heels felt raw. I was feeling satisfied but lonely at that point, so I stopped by a starbucks near my hotel to get my usual: a Toffee Nut frapuccino with an extra shot. The girl was beautiful and pleasant. I couldn't tell if the extra eye contact was because I reminded her of someone or I'd develop cancer on my face. Either way, I felt comforted by some small bit of familiarity in that surreal city.

I decided to rest for awhile in my hotel room after that, skipping dinner entirely to watch a documentary on Medieval Samurai in Japan. My heels didn't feel like absolute hell anymore, so I stuffed some tissue paper down my socks, fixed them in place to my immovable dress shoes and went out to do some long-exposure shots.

Madison at night had an empty pleasant feel to it, like LA but much more quiet and desperate. I ducked into a dark alleyways, around some odd buildings and eventually up that that humanities complex again. I topped it off by getting some good shots of an American flag set on a small concrete point, all surrounded by this deathly frozen lake. I would call it "Our winter of discontent". It was around that time that I went across the harbor area again, trying to wait on some thuggish guys to move away from a scene I wanted to shoot. One of them asked if I was a photographer. I was surprised but I said yeah. He asked if I wanted to photograph them. I talked my way out of (probably) getting my shit stolen. After that the scene didn't look so hot as I'd thought.

I wandered and shot, shot and wandered, finally ending up at my hotel again with a severely raw, blistered right ankled and left one that wasn't too better off. My neck was out of place and my lower back hurt. I decided to call it quits and wait for the inevitable hurdle of meetings I'd have on monday.

And what better way to lose myself than see The Princess Bride. I didn't usually get a chance to see it all the way through, and like always it charmed me away from whatever I was doing. I especially loved Andre the Giant in his role as Fezzik, something so genuine and meaningful there.

I felt distinctly better as I went downstairs to reserve some money on my card for long-distance and room service. The girl receptionist also happened to be stunning--a Madison trend that was kinda nice/disappointing.

After I finally left my mom a phone message (which she somehow never received), I rolled out the religiously tucked bedspred and set the alarm for 8am--just enough time to order breakfast before 9am came and the collegial madness began.

Still, like many things, it would end up turning out to be alot better than I thought it would be...

To be continued...(insert dramatic music)

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