I was seated on a platform suspended 14 feet above the floor. My hair was braided and my face was covered with red body paint. Four 500 watt movie lights were placed around me facing the front entrance of the space. My voice was amplified by three speakers. As people entered the gallery, I repeatedly yelled at them “get the fuck out, get out immediately.” Because the sound was very loud and contained high frequency feedback, most people left quickly.
This world already has so many different ways to knock the wind out of your sails—ways that you won’t even see coming until you’re on your ass—so I only fault myself whenever I invest any time/emotion into sports only to end up feeling bad. Anyway, I was kinda down about the USA soccer game until this guy next to me wearing a scarf, vest, t-shirt, and several rings started screaming and swearing so much in the last 10 minutes of the game that a bartender had to come over and ask him to cool it. At first the bile was mostly directed at the Belgians and the refs, but toward the end he was going, “COME ON DEMPSEY YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD!!!” and “USA YOU SONOFABITCH MOTHERFUCKERS!” Sometimes, in moments of dead silence, he’d just shout, “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!” at the top of his lungs. When it was all over, he chugged what I think was his ninth or tenth glass of sangria and stormed out. That all made me laugh a lot.