The Trials of Man Solo: Broadway Producers Hate Single People!

 

It's no secret that I've been having an affair with Broadway for many years, and we've been getting along famously... Until now.

I have not visited the lovely New York City or Broadway since January 2020 and I can barely stand to be away for so long.  I have missed entire runs of shows...

The way my visits usually go is that I'll see an announcement for a show that really captures my fancy and I build a theater-going weekend around that show.  Because I am not a rich man, I check my usual airlines for the best (cheapest)  flights that will maximize my time there.  Lately, I've taken to catching a red-eye after work on a Wednesday, getting me in early Thursday morning.  Then, I go to my friend's apartment (Again, not rich and avoiding prohibitively high hotel rates) take a good nap and wake up refreshed and ready to catch a Thursday night show, leading into a weekend of 5 shows, until I leave on Sunday night.  

Let's rewind to when I find a show I REALLY wanna see;

Usually, I head directly to Theatremania.com

They offer great discounts for shows that wanna boost audience attendance. In my case it's discounts for brand new shows that are just starting out and can put people in seats and, hopefully, get some good word-of-mouth advertising going.  If the show I want is not there, I use the site to get regularly priced tickets, which are going up and up.  Then, I'll go back and see what other shows I haven't seen (or I really enjoyed enough to see a second time,) are offering discounts and continue building my weekend.  Sometimes, I miss the window for the discount offer and head over to regular price and pay up.  I will say that shows offering discounts will get my attention first, especially if I'm on the fence about wanting to see them.  It usually turns out to be a 50/50 ratio of discount & regularly priced tickets by the time I'm done.  I'm not looking to break the Broadway bank, demanding discounts for ALL the shows I see, but I'll take help where I can get it.

As pandemic regulations started to relax and vaccines & boosters for Covid-19 and Monkey Pox were poked up inside me (Hopefully my Polio Booster still holds), I decided it would be a good time to return!  I was excited by a good number of shows opening this Fall and surprised by a few shows that extended into my visiting dates.  I  excitedly headed over to the discount site and

THEN THIS HAPPENED

All of a sudden most of the discounts were listed as BOGO (Buy One, Get One).

WHAT THE FUCK?

Now, I have to be part of a couple to get a discount ticket to a show??

This is straight on discrimination against single people!

Honestly!  Why am I punished and denied a discount for not having a boyfriend/husband???

FUCK YOU, WHOMEVER DECIDES ON THESE DISCOUNTS FOR THESE SHOWS!!!

(Also, for the record, I have no interest in seeing this MJ show - discount or not.  It was just an example) 

There need to be laws to protect single people from this type of discrimination.
Why does it cost more to be alone?

This goes along with paying more for single occupancy on cruises and trips!

Besides, who else is gonna buy that single seat 1/3 into the row?

I can not type noisily enough to express how offended I am by these assholes.

Also, what if there are 3 people who want to see a show together?

Today, out of 20 discounts offered, 13 are BOGO and I am denied a 50% discount that couples get to enjoy. That's not right and I hope there is a lawyer reading this that will help me with a class action suit populated by all of us who are dying alone and enjoy theater, but don't get to enjoy the discounts offered to couples.

The Trials of Man Solo - Virgins Are Doing It By Themselves

As you may remember I went to a Halloween party last weekend and wore a cute little Queen of Hearts costume.  I went to another Halloween party last night.  I need photos for my character, Reba Areba, and didn't want to repeat costumes.  Usually I just pop over to Out Of The Closet and see what cheap outfit they might have, but lately I've been really put off by their pricing.  They had crap costumes in plastic packages priced at $40 to $60!  That's the same price one would expect to pay for a NEW costume at those huge Halloween Headquarters places!  If I was running a store for charity, I'd price crap to get it out and make room for more inventory, not compete with Party City.  Luckily I went down to Long Beach on Friday and had a few minutes to hop into a discount store on Pacific and get a fancy costume in plastic for only $8.99. (Take THAT Out Of The Closet!)

I saw the Legally Blonde costume (complete with chihuahua in purse) and thought it would be a hoot to have red head Reba go as Elle Woods, but still have red hair.  Unluckily for me, as I was getting dressed, already in full make-up I discovered that these different costume packagers have different ideas of what a ladies' large is.  It was way too small, even too much to play off like a tight fit gag.  So there I was, all made-up with nothing to wear.  I dug through my costume closet and found a fairy outfit that Reba has worn before for Sketchy Queens and my other character, Frieda Laye, had worn on a few occasions.  I couldn't be too picky, so I proceeded to put it on.  Then I realized that those previous wearings had other people around.  The zipper was in the back and the wings needed to be pinned on after wearing.  It was a moment I regretted being alone. Even after getting really crafty, like attaching a lanyard on the zipper to pull it up, I couldn't manage to get to go all the way up.

Even if that had worked, I'd have to leave the huge black lanyard thingy hanging on there so I could get the thing off again.  Still, I didn't have anyone around to help with the wings.  Wouldn't it have been nice if I had a boyfriend around to help me get into a costume.  Like this guy, maybe...

He'd be all, "Honey, can I help you with that? We gotta go."

Alas, I didn't have a shirtless KISS guy around, so I had to go back to the closet and dig out another costume that I could get into by myself.  I ended up with the virgin costume that both Frieda Laye

And I have worn recently...

I really wanted something new and different, but I was alone and had to settle for the costume that I could pull over my head.  Nobody at the party even knows who Frieda Laye is or that I wore this before, so it was new to them and I had a nice time.  Still, wearing a new costume and having a shirtless KISS guy around would have been nice; so are The Trials of Man Solo...

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

The Trials of Man Solo - Untouched

Last night, I fell asleep without masturbating.

ALL DAY today I've been wondering if I'm mad at me.

The Trials of Man Solo - Danger Craft!

So, Craft Night has come and gone, but I'm still reminded of the event.  You see, there was a horrific accident that occurred, which I chose not to tell you about, until now.  It all happened when muh DAB, Brett, chose a heavy item to affix to a sturdy card.  Being the experienced crafter that I am, I had a glue gun ready to go.  I assured him that the hot goo was the way to go.  He took the gun and aimed at his card, but nothing happened.  Certain that it was operator error, I seized the gun and pulled the trigger firmly.  Nothing happened.  I realized that the glue stick was falling short of the barrel, so I loaded another stick behind it and pulled the trigger.  It seemed a little hesitant, so I applied more pressure.  That's when I felt the burning on my finger.  I had gotten a huge glob of molten goo on my knuckle.  I pulled at it right away, knowing that every fraction of a second that it cooled, it would take more with it.  More what?  Skin.  My skin.  There I was with a glob of skin encrusted glue in one hand and a fresh, open sore on the other.  Suddenly, muh DAB, Brett went into action.  He hurried me into my bathroom in sort of a panic.  Maybe because I am a horror movie fan, the site of my sore didn't worry me and the pain was not so bad.  I let Brett do his thing, anyway.  He made me wash the wound in cool water and prepared to sterilize it.  He was shocked that I had no alcohol or Bactine to put on the fresh flesh.  I was embarrassed that the best that I could offer was hydrogen peroxide, that was probably purchased for purposes other than wound bubbling.  I was surprised that I had Band-Aids, so he carefully wrapped up my finger and seemed satisfied that I was taken care of.  I was, too!  While my didn't feel too nice, I did feel good that Brett cared.

Brett said he couldn't believe that I wasn't moving faster to take care of my wound.  I had no words.  Such are The Trials of Man Solo: When it's just one in a home, one might not take care to stock the place with first aid stuffs because there is no one they are concerned about to aid.  Which in turn, makes one worry that they are not concerned for themselves!  Seriously, I don't have any rubbing alcohol or Bactine in the medicine cabinet?  And my Band-Aids are over ten years old?  My excuse is that, luckily, I haven't had any incidents that called for that stuff.  I suppose I should think of myself a little bit more and stock up on "care" items.

I didn't spend much time beating myself up for not giving a crap about myself, because my mind went straight to finding the cause of the incident.  I am a detective at heart.

A quick study of the deadly weapon showed that, somehow, the first glue stick got clogged in the barrel, while the secondary glue stick I inserted, forced the sticky lava to pour out of the side and onto my dainty finger flesh.  Satisfied I understood the incident, I unplugged the fucker, tossed it in the trash and continued crafting cards.  That's how I roll!

Thank you for taking care of me, Brett!

The Trials of Man Solo - If a tree is decorated in the forrest and no one sees it...

Earlier this year, I overheard this exchange between me and me immediately after I took down my Christmas tree;

Me:  Oh, Crap!  I wanted to take a picture!
Me: Why?
Me:  No one saw it.

NOT THIS YEAR!
I put up my Christmas tree today!  By golly, I swear someone besides me will see the dadburned thing this year!  Yes, this will encourage me to have more (any) interaction with folks! (Mostly guys. Mostly gay guys.)  So, even though I have nothing on the books I decorated my place a little.
I started with the tree.  I let my friend, Superman help...

(Don't worry, we don't actually talk to each other.  He's just a big toy.)

We hanged the ornaments with care.

I also put out my Holiday Dunnys...

and a few more vinyl toys

All in an effort to make my place a cozy, colorful, holiday home.

Heck, even my Broadway posters are holiday themed (Including the Broadway Bares one...)

Alas, these are the Trials of Man Solo; Sometimes all the decorating you do for holidays or special occasions is solely for oneself.  I do enjoy decorating for myself, because I deserve celebration just as much as anyone else.  But, it is nice to share the fun isn't it?  So, let's hope I'm not Too Busy For Love this season and get at least one, eligible man-suitor to see my tree!  

The Trials of Man Solo - The Lights Are On, But There's No Heart Home

I've been wrestling with something for the past couple of weeks and it's almost driven me to distraction.  In a previous post I wondered if I could ever become one of the homeless folk we see on the street every day.  Heck, my last post was about being with and having friends I know won't let me die alone.  I am very lucky.  Am I also a hypocrite?

Here's my thing, I have a former co-worker with whom I had socialized a few times while he worked with me and dog sat his cute doggies a couple of times.  He hasn't worked with me for a few years and he seemed to drop off the face of the earth, I took notice when his Instagram went suddenly quiet.
Well, when I was in New York in October, I got a text from him saying he'd made it out of the desert with his two dogs and needed help to feed them (and himself).  I replied that I was in New York and couldn't help him.  I spent a good portion of my trip wondering what had happened to him and how he ended up homeless, living in his car.  Last I knew, he owned a fabulous loft in downtown L.A. and had inherited a nice chunk.  I also know that he has a wealthy family, along with a very well known artist cousin, with whom he was close.  And what the hell was he doing in the desert? Who is he, Moses?  I didn't hear from him again, until I was back in L.A.  I got a text during a Chico's Angels rehearsal about how he needed help because the car he is living in got towed.  I sent a text out after rehearsal to see how the situation was, but I didn't hear back from him.  I discretely discussed the situation with a co-worker asking advice (really asking for absolution) and I learned a lot about this fella I didn't know before.  Nothing too damaging, just tidbits about his behavior and life that I had no idea about.  It dawned on me that I really didn't know him very well.  I had known him well enough to know I thought he was clinically manic-depressive and wondered if he had gone of his medication.  I wondered how bad it had gotten if his family wasn't stepping in.  Then the guilt started setting in.

I always thought I would be The guy You Could Turn To.  I thought I would never be the one to let one of my friends go homeless in the street.  What the hell?  Then, last night I got a text from him, plainly stating that he was between residences and he needed a place for him and his dogs (which I have learned are pitbulls, one of which has bitten a person).  I'm ashamed to say I didn't immediately call him up and say, "Yes, please stay with me as long as you need!"  instead I just stared at the text, frozen as my brain overtook my heart and said, "Don't you dare!"  My head told me that this guy's problems were bigger than I had the capacity to help.  It went on that I didn't really know him, I had no idea what has happened to him in years and I didn't know what his stability was, as far as his medication.  Then, my heart pleaded to offer to take his dogs in, while he worked his situation out.  My head was quick to retort that I also didn't know his dogs, except that they are pitbulls, one of which has bitten a person. I don't think pitbulls are automatically killers, but I have no idea what their background is or how they have been treated.  I live in an apartment complex with many dogs (I may be the only tenant who doesn't have one) and I couldn't possibly take on the responsibility for their behavior, especially if they hurt one of the neighbor doggies.  My brain was cruel and said, "Once you let in a little crazy, you're taking it all in and it'll stay and damage you. DO NOT RETURN THAT TEXT."  So I didn't.  I just sat guiltily watching television hoping that he has found someplace.  Also, wondering, what if that was me?

Such are the Trials of Man Solo, learning to live alone, hoping not to live alone on the street.  Hoping that your friends have more compassion than you do.  I have no idea how to feel about this.  Am I strong for protecting myself, or am I weak for being selfish and not ignoring the very possible detriment that could come from taking in a manic-depressive person, possibly off his meds and/or addicted to drugs.  As I type that out, my brain is saying, "REALLY?", but my heart still quietly asks, "What if that was me?"

If he worked with me, he's heard of this.
If he's reading this, then please, go to PATH.
There is help for the homeless there.
I don't think I can help you with this the way you need to be helped.
Please help yourself.  Call.

If You are Homeless and/or Need Assistance
Call: (323) 644-2216
Email: path@epath.org

The Trials of Man Solo - Party of One & Then Some

Today I enjoyed a day all alone, I didn't leave my apartment, except to have lunch.

I went to one of my favorite places that I've neglected lately.  Kung Pao China Bistro welcomed me with open chopsticks.  When one dines alone as much I do, it's important to find places one enjoys, with tasty eats, comfy atmosphere and friendly staff.  Once in a while, I'll lighten up on a place because of heavy visitation, and I don't know how long it's been since I was a super regular here, but apparently I've been gone long enough for someone else to set up Lonely Shop.  I walked in, sat at a random two-top and set out my dine-alone accoutrements; my phone (face down), iPad set on "game" and a thin veil of judgement.  I readily ordered green tea and Siapore Mai Funand and set on to trying to make an eight letter word with only one vowel.  Then, I felt my veil waft a bit when I heard the man seated next to me speak.   First, he called the waitress by her name as she walked by, then he asked her a hypothetical question about a possible future order.  I pegged him in a second; THE LONELY DINER.  He is someone I hope to never become.  He's that late middle-aged man, who is so lonely, he eats in public only to not be alone, try to make friends of the wait staff and make everyone around him feel uncomfortable.  Almost any time a staff member walked by, he called them by name and made some comment or asked some inane hypothetical, like, "So if I ordered the Sai gow, you know maybe, in the future, do you think they could serve it with a different dipping sauce than what it comes with?  What dipping sauce does it come with?"  The staff was very friendly, but after I exchanged a judgey look with the slightly younger single guy sitting on my other side, the rest of us were cringing.  As I was finishing my meal, he flagged down Jose and asked if Mary was leaving, because she had placed his check on the table, and he had not asked for it... She appeared two minutes later and removed the check from his table.

I'm not an idiot, I actually did consider that when I found a parking in that impossible parking lot shared with Whole Foods, that I actually entered some time warp thingy and was actually seated next to future me.  It had to be future me, otherwise, why would he be so comfortable talking to me?  He tried to draw me into his sad web of forlorness as he leaned over and said, "I don't know if you know this, but they have great ice cream here.  Have you ever had their almond ice cream, it's great."

To which I replied, "I sorry, me no speaky LONELY."  Actually, said, "Yes, I have.  Thank you." And shut it down immediately.  Look, I have to judge him and not give in to any pity. He's giving us Die Aloners a bad name!  I am alone, not lonely.  If I'm get lonely there's a Craiglist for it! (actually, I don't Craigslist, because I am wary of serial killers.)  Seriously though, when you dine alone, you are in charge of your own entertainment and you are there to eat.  That is it!  If you're lonely, voulunteer some place where there are people.  Pretend to have an addiction and take in some meetings!  Walk by a skin treatment kiosk at the Grove!  But, for piss sakes, DO NOT MAKE RESTAURANT FOLK FEAR DIE ALONERS!!  It's hard enough to get refills on my green tea without the waiter avoiding me because he's worrying that I'm gonna ask about climate change and its affect on springroll stuffin's!  I wish that it was future me sitting next to me, because I would have slugged myself in the face and told me to snap out of it! Cripes! Sometimes, the Trials of Man Solo, aren't about dining alone, but restraining oneself from punching a possible future-self, because it might not be...

I hope I don't have to stay away from Kung Pao some more, the Singapore Mai Fun was superb!

The Trials of Man Solo - Cramp Ball

Oh my God, You guys!

I almost took my blog literally yesterday!

At 5:30 am, I woke up with my stomach churning and gurgling sounds that only Captain Nemo could have heard before.  I ran to the terlet and thus began my torturous day of hell dealing with FOOD POISONING.  I felt terrible!  I seriously started to understand suicide as the early hours were filled with so much pain & discomfort and I thought, "what if I'm like this for the rest of my life?  I can't take this!"  I seriously have more empathy for anyone living with chronic pain, because my moments of discomfort were driving me mad, imagine if there was real pain involved.  Again, as I ran to the terlet and back to bed, I lamented not having someone there, but I was also grateful that there was no one there as I embarassed myself with whimpering and whining, because I know there's nothing anyone could have done (except maybe call an ambulance if I passed out and didn't come to) and I would just have to ride it out.  I will say that I'm gratedful that I, at least, have a maid twice a month because as I lay naked on the floor in a cramping ball, I knew it was clean.

At about noon I had a great vomiting session where I could feel my condition lessen immediately after.  Still, I was weak and my stomach & back were terribly achy.  My thinking became clearer and any thoughts of ending it all were safely away, (I never seriously contemplated it, but I did gain some understanding of it) but my thoughts weren't any less dramatic as I thought, "I almost died today!"

So, I barely escaped dying alone.  Thank goodness I had contacted my boss and a DAB, or two, so that if I did die of food poisoning, it wouldn't be a week or two before my naked body was discovered on my bathroom floor.  I did try to tidy up, just in case...

The Trials of Man Solo - Chafe and Warm

I'm not a nurse, but I've played one (badly) in a short film.  I'm not a time traveler, either, but I'd like to take you back to this weekend, when a DAB of mine and I walked for two hours on a hot summer day and encountered a spider.  It turns out, not only did I suffer the humiliation of the "There's a spider on me!" dance, I also am suffering from a terribly ouchy case of chafing!  It didn't feel so bad Saturday night, but Sunday morning, after driving to breakfast with a friend, I had to come right back home and sit nude (on a towel) the rest of the day and night, because I had sores on my tushy and high on my inner thighs where there sweaty moist seam clumps in my underwears rubbed against my skin for a long hour walk home.  Luckily, I had an almost expired tube of cortizone cream that offered a little relief.  It was no fun (I'm still suffering, now).  It was then that I thought it would have been nice to have somebody there to play nurse for me.  While I enjoyed the company of HANNIBAL, Amazon Prime & Hulu Plus, none of them could roll me over, apply some cream and gently blow to cool my hot tush.  They couldn't run out and get me a salad from Hugo's or a crepe from WeHo Bistro, instead of the serviceable tuna sandwich I made myself. (I would have ordered delivery, but I would have had to answer the door nude!) They couldn't tell me, "it's too warm in the living room, go to your bedroom where the swamp cooler hits you better. Idiot."
Such are the Trials of Man Solo; at times when one would prefer to be coddled and receive some TLC, there is no one there.  Fortunately, I survived!  Could-Woulda-Shoulda, right?  Anyway, I finally got a chance to watch TROLL HUNTER!

The Trials of Man Solo - If It Could Happen To Lucy...

Once again, I'm thinking in literal terms of the name of my blog.  I pass by a number of homeless folk as I walk to & from work.  Most of them are clearly victims of their various addictions.  It seems that they'll all be around and little by little, they'll disappear until one day at the end of the month, they all reappear.  I assume that has something to do with the shelter system and funding, which leads to a release into the wilds of West Hollywood.  Sometimes I wonder about their lives prior to being in their present situation and how close am I to becoming one of them.
Sure, right now I have a good, steady job and a great group of friends.  I don't do drugs and I rarely enjoy the hooch anymore.  What if I did something really stupid and lost my job?  How long would I last on my limited savings?  How long would I rely on the kindness of friends before I felt like a burden?  What would it take to get me out on the street, to where I leave shelter, or felt I had no where to go?  If I wasn't insane when I decided to take on the street, would I be out so long that it would drive me insane?  How long could I keep track of my limited belongings?  What would be of value to me as a possession?  Would I hold on to practical things or things with sentimental value? Would I keep a few Dunnys rather than a few cans of tuna?

Actually, it is very hard for me to imagine the situation that would take me away from my job, family and  friends - maybe it's an illness.  Maybe I can't work and none of my friends is able to care for me and my family is far away (Is Texas far from California?)   Anyway, such are the Trials of Man Solo; wondering how he would survive without that promise from someone that they'll stay by his side until death do them part, should something catastrophic occur.  It would be nice to have that little added feeling of security, knowing he's not in alone, that there's someone between the street and him.
My feeling is that there's no guarantee that they'd stay if things go that bad, but at least there would be a chance.  So, until I find my loving Street Buffer, I will try not to do anything stupid to lose my job, I'll try not to be a miserable grump and alienate my friends & family, I'll try to stay healthy and I will always keep the thought of Lucille Ball in STONE PILLOW in my mind to remind me that even pretend homelessness is awful.

The Trials of Man Solo - Getting Smog Testy

So, because of a series of age induced incidents involving my car's health,
I had to leave it at the shop for the full day, leaving me to find alternate transport to work and back at the end of the day.  I have a bus card, so that was my option of choice.  Because I had no patience for an unknown bus schedule, I decided not to stand and wait, so I walked from Franklin Ave to Santa Monica Boulevard- a good 15 minute walk if a brisk pace is kept.  Once I got a bus on Santa Monica, it was pretty easy and I was dropped off right in front of my work place.
At the end of the day, I did the same thing in reverse.  I walked from Santa Monica to Franklin again, because I had no idea when there would be a bus and I wanted to be sure to get there before they closed.  Of course, after arriving and waiting about 20 minutes, and they were almost done, another problem came to light.  My car would have to spend the night.  The shop hadn't called me to say my car was ready, I  assumed it would be ready by the end of the day and it almost was.  So there I was stranded, exhausted, with no one to blame, but myself.  I also had no one to call.
Please don't say, "Call a friend... Call Uber..."  I know I could have made those calls, but instead I decided to sit and wait however long it would be for a freakin' bus to come down Highland.
It took at least 20.  I sat and played Soda Crush feeling a little sorry for myself.  It was just one of those little moments when I thought, "Golly, it sure would be nice if I could just call my boyfriend and say,'Honey, come pick me up.'"  ...But I don't.

Such are the Trials of Man Solo; when unexpected inconveniences arise, we have to deal with them on our own.   I don't mean this to sound like I sat on a bus bench crying into my iPad, it was just a little thought and a little twinge, and I certainly wouldn't jump into a relationship, just so I would have someone to pick me up on short notice.   In actuality, had I warned a friend that I might be calling for a ride, I might have been more inclined to call someone and inconvenience them for a ride.  Also, I don't want to surrender to Uber or Lyft, just yet.  So there I am, sitting on that bench for half an hour, waiting for a bus that seems to never be arriving and it could have been sad, except that I had my Soda Crush and a great view of the guy still repairing my car, whom I was crushing on on Tuesday.   I might have felt guilty if I had a boyfriend...

DISCLAIMER: My crush is not the fella pictured above. (I wouldn't say no, though)

The Trials Of Man Solo - A Certain Kind of Death

When you visit a blog named DieAloneWithMe.Com,
you know you gotta consider the literal aspect of dying alone.
I know I've thought about it often.  You don't have to be elderly to die in your apartment
and lay there for days before people realize you're missing, then either look for you
or get informed by the apartment manager who smelled the stench of death.
I've imagined all kinds of interesting accidents that would leave me dead and waiting for discovery.
There's the one where I'm dancing like an idiot, trip over my own foot, slam my head on the
corner of my entertainment center and lay unconscious bleeding out on the carpet.
Or the one where I'm in the kitchen and am so hungry I pop six gluten-free mushroom ravioli
from Gelson's in my mouth all at once, then choke on them.  I desperately throw myself on the
floor to try to get a good rush of air to push the tasty Italian treat out, but I don't get it quite right and stay on the floor choking and ouching from the unsuccessful throw down, I pass out & die.
My absolute favorite is the one where I slip in the shower and fall through the glass shower door, in just the right way to completely cut myself entirely in half, leaving a gruesome & awful mess.
I have a great circle of friends, but honestly, I think I'd be down for at least two days before someone got worried enough to come looking for me.  Yes, contemplating my own lonesome death can be a little depressing, but with some morbid imaginings, it can be kind of fun, too!

If the subject hasn't scared you off, might I suggest for your morbid viewing curiosity,
a documentary I stumbled upon a few years back that has stayed with me.
It's called A CERTAIN KIND OF DEATH and it's about people whose job it is to identify the
dead who are all alone in the world, with little clue who they are.  It is depressing but fascinating!
You can catch it on the Video On Demand sites or HERE, on the YouTubes.
Watch it alone for full effect!

I'd watch it alone with you, but I have to set up a daily appointment with one of my DABs,
in order to lessen the likelihood of such a demise.

The Trials of Man Solo - More for 1 less

As an often single traveler, I can't tell you how exciting it is to see
offers flood my email box for discounted trips all over the world!
Japan, Hawaii, Greece, Ireland and even Los Angeles are all available
for only $1799 or less depending on the distance and length of stay.

I fall for it every time!  I get excited at the great deal, then I see this:

Note: All options priced per person, based on double occupancy, 

or pay an additional $300 fee to travel solo. Read about package structures here.

That's right, I get to pay $300 dollars or more because I'm traveling alone.
Such are The Trials of Man Solo.  Here's the thing, I don't have any credit cards, so I have save up and pay as I go.  An extra $300 can throw me off a month or two or longer.  Also, I'm a sucker for a great deal, but if given long enough, I'll cool down faster than a gluten-free Eggo sticking half way out of the toaster slot!  So, when I read about a great deal, then sift through the info, figuring out how I'm going to make one total, then have to stop to recalculate the "Solo Tax"- forget it, I'll move on to another exciting offer for another exciting locale.  I know the idea behind the deal is to get TWO people on the cruise or tour in order to have them spend twice the money on peripherals, I just think it's sucks that I'm supposed to make up for the non-spending of the non-existent traveler.  Perhaps it would be better if they offered a median price for all numbers of travelers with a set number of spaces put aside for solo travelers because, we all know they are usually offering these deals because ain't no one filling their available space and I personally think, one person in a double is better than zero person in a double.

Better yet, perhaps someone should start a travel agency that specializes in solo travels with just as attractive deals!  If that is you, please send me your info.  If I've inspired you to specialize and conquer this market, I'd appreciate a small thank you in the form of extra peanuts on a flight of my choice. ...and a hooker.

 

The Trials of Man Solo - Scratch Vyn'l

There I was, in New York City, April, 2015,
waiting at Vynl for my friend and current DAB (Die Alone Buddy), Richard.
I got there a little early, so the wait for a table would be shorter.
Unfortunately, my twenty minute wait for a table for two was all for naught,
as Richard and I had miscommunicated and I would be dining alone.
When I informed the lovely hostess that, I would be dining alone, after all,
she took a glance at two available tables and then informed me that I'd have to wait
fifteen minutes or so for an available table, behind another unfortunate single man
who was waiting to dine alone (and who arrived after I did, by the bi).
Such are The Trials of Man Solo.  You see, the two available tables both had capacity for
four people and, even though there was no one waiting to sit in them, their policy
is to make two people who are actually there (one who had been there for twenty minutes
already) wait longer until a smaller table opens up.  I understand that a business mind might think that a table of four is better than a table of one, because that means a bigger check.  However,
if there is zero sitting at the table, one is better, right?  One is more than zero, right?
Isn't one in the booth better than four in the bush?

The fact of the matter is that regardless of the number of people seated at a table, the people
coming to dine there are going to have to wait for table until whomever is sitting there is done,
most people are willing to do that. If the service is good, a single would probably be in and out in a jiff.  I think it is outrageous to make two people wait while there are two available tables with no one in line to sit in them.  At the very least, the hostess might have suggested that we two singles share one table.  Aside from being outraged, the fact that I had a show starting in less than an hour kept me from patiently waiting for another 15 minutes or so to be seated.  I left in an exaggerated huff and settled for a tasty bowl at a Chipotle on the way to the theater.

Vynl used to be a place at which I HAD to eat, at least once, every visit to N.Y.
What with Chelsea's 8th Avenue fading away into nothingness, it was nice to have a place to go where I could count on a tasty meal and good time.  I can't return there. While I have no problem dining alone, I do have issues with a place that makes me feel penalized for it.  I shan't return to
Vnyl, I'll just pretend that it was located on 8th Avenue and disappeared along with the rest of some
of my other favorite haunts.  (Yes, I did enjoy a few meals at the Vynl briefly located at 8th & 16th).  I might miss its colorful decor with records on the wall and musically themed restrooms, but
the good thing about New York is there are plenty of restaurants with charm and personality.
Just remember, there may be 45's on the wall, but there are no singles allowed at Vynl.