Captain America WWII Burlesque

Terry and I went to see "Captain America the First Avenger" on it's opening weekend. Ultimately we were disappointed in the film. There was plenty of fist fighting and no character development. The predictable romance was unsatisfying the actors had no chemistry. The constant fighting and explosive action became boring after a while. That evening there was going to be a World War II themed Burlesque party at the Comic Shop. Sophie Lamore one of the organizers of the event told me that my name would be on the list so I could sketch the event. Since the event cost $9, Terry decided to hang out with friends at Redlight Redlight while I sketched. It was Chad Bruce's birthday.



When I got to the Comic Shop there was a large group of people at the back of the store waiting to get into the Geek Easy, a separate social gathering room in the back of the building. I noticed some Captain America comics on the bookshelf across from me. I had arrived a little late, so I was surprised that no one was allowed in yet. Though there probably wasn't enough time, I decided to sketch the people waiting. A few women had on WWII themed dresses and a couple of guys wore military cargo pants. As I sketched people started filing in. When everyone was inside I walked up to the admissions table and told the woman my name so she could check the list. It was a bit odd announcing I was Thor in a comic shop. My name wasn't there. I told her to check with Sophie who I had talked to about covering the event. From inside the venue, Sophie didn't remember putting me on the list. The message was relayed to me. I was offered a discounted ticket, but realized it was a good excuse to get back to Chad's birthday party. Besides I already had a finished sketch. My job was done. I drove back to Redlight Redlight to hang out with Terry and to wish Chad a happy birthday. As Terry and I left the bar, Chad offered me some eggs from his very own hen house. It was a farm fresh evening.

Bastille Day

Bastille Day in the Audubon Garden District celebrated all things French. Falling on a weeknight this year, it was a much smaller event than last year. I went to Stardust Video & Coffee right after work to meet Terry. There was no hint of Bastille Day, or the romance of Paris, so I ordered a Coke and asked where the French might be found. I was told to look at a poster on the door. The poster offered no other clue. I was in the right neighborhood on the right day but other than that, I was lost. After Terry arrived we were finally directed to go across Corrine Drive to Bikes, Beans & Bordeaux. It was a hot muggy night. There were a few tents set up in the parking lot. In Brighton Boutique there was a black and white film being shown. Bonnie Sprung had a tent full of her French themed paintings. There was also chocolates and fine wines.

Amanda Chadwick, Sarah Austin and Wendy Wallenberg started chatting with Terry. When those women start talking, the conversation heats up like an episode of "Sex in the City." I wandered off to sketch. A live band caught my attention but they stopped playing the second I put a line to paper. I shifted my attention to the people sipping wine and talking at the tables. One woman wore a dark beret. Night settled in quickly. When I finished my sketch, I re-joined Terry. She was seated in a lone chair and I sat beside her in my camping stool. Amanda convinced me I had to try the wine. When I got to the wine table I glanced back and saw that she had decided to occupy my stool. The wine required tickets. The guy standing next to me offered me his ticket since he had to drive home. He offered me a second ticket and I told him to offer it to Amanda. I asked him to have her get up to accept it and I would steal my seat back. He offered her the ticket. She hesitated at first, then when she reached out, he backed up. She caught on fast shouting, "You're trying to get me out of this seat aren't you!" What is the world coming to when we can't accept the kindness of strangers?

Bar Louie

After a fun evening of comedy, Terry, Amanda Chadwick and I went to Bar Louie which is in the same complex of restaurants and clubs on Sand Lake Road, a neighborhood referred to by some as Sandlando. The place was packed and the music was loud. Terry and Amanda went out on the dance floor and I started sketching. There were no seats available so I stood behind an empty table that was reserved. As I worked a group of women in gorgeous dresses and men with their hair slicked back sat at the table. It must have been a retro night since some men were dressed like John Travolta in "Saturday Night Fever." They had long pointy collars and vests. I started to think that some guy dressed to the nines would take a swing at me as a way to impress his girl.

When the band stopped, Terry and Amanda went outside. I finished applying washes to the sketch. I never found out the name of the group playing. I closed the sketchbook and went to join Terry and Amanda outside. A huge plate sized beetle was scurrying awkwardly across the pavement. It looked like it was gasping for breath through its neck. Amanda was skyping Matt in Seattle. I waved to the video image of him but couldn't hear anything he said over the crowd. We didn't stay much longer. The band was about to start another set as we walked out to the parking lot.

txt at Urban ReThink

Conceptual artist Brian Feldman has one more performance of txt tonight, July 25th at 7pm at Urban ReThink (625 East Central Blvd.). I sat in on the first of three performances to sketch. I have seen txt performed several times before and was entertained every time. For the first time, I signed into the proper Twitter account and was prepared to send Brian a txt during the performance to be read aloud. Brian walked out and sat at the spindly desk waiting for his cell phone to vibrate. He read, "Let's get started with a couple of ground rules." Terry was busy munching on a bag of potato chips. I wrote my first txt, he read, "Rule number 1. No eating!" He shouted it out, pointing at Terry. I placed my phone on the floor and forgot about it as I lost myself in the sketch.

"Thor is wearing a shirt he bought in North Carolina." Terry must have written that, I thought. I looked at my shirt. Funny, I don't remember buying it in North Carolina. Tod Caviness walked in late. "This guy is late," Brian announced. I raised my hopes thinking Tod would offer some literary subtlety to the strange meaningless flow of ideas. As always, the unfiltered thoughts turned to sex. "Raise your hand if you want to have a 3 or 4 way later." "Oh, there are swingers in the room?!" "Rule number 16, if no one laughs I'm going to stand on Thor's shoulders and fart in your face." Who on earth wrote that? I thought. Do I know that person. Do I want to know that person? "Rule number 237. No sex in the champagne room with Thor." What?! I blushed. Alright, who wrote that? More important was it a man or woman? I looked around for a guilty face. Where on earth is the champagne room? I need to go sketch it now."Sex in the champagne room at Hue. See you at 8." Well that answers that question anyway, Hue is a night club. "I would totally rock Thor's hammer." "OK, who mentioned sex with Thor? It wasn't his wife and if she finds you she will scratch your eyes out." "Why is everyone talking about Thor, lets chat about Green Lantern! He is great too!" Thank Odin, the conversation wasn't about me at all. I'm so vain.

Across from me Peter Murphy was sitting next to Colleen Burns. She wore a blue dress. "Hey girl in the blue dress, don't wear a bra next time." I looked up at Colleen her mouth was open, aghast. "Awkward." Brian announced. "Later on I'm going to get down with that lady in the... (my eyes are bad)... The Blue dress!" "My boyfriend is obsessed with the girl in the blue dress." "The girl in the blue dress is taken." Well that settles that, I thought. "Imagine me planking on the lady in the blue dress later. Ha!" Colleen seemed to take all the attention with humor. "I am NEVER wearing a blue dress ever again!"

With no filters, no social niceties, people don't have a need for polite meaningful conversation. The Internet has unleashed an age of unrestricted self-expression and the results are often brash and ugly. Tapping out every thought that pops into our heads isn't art. Having contributed to this performance by tapping out my one tweet, I felt a little dirty. I was complicit in the crime of random expression. This show shocked and amazed me every time I saw it. It is a guilty pleasure. Several evenings later I saw Colleen at another event. She was wearing a blue dress.

The Final Shuttle Launch

Terry and I were startled awake by the clock alarm at 4am. We stumbled about getting ready to go to the space coast to see the Launch of Space Shuttle Atlantis. We planned to go to Space View Park which is right across the Saint John's river directly across from Launch Complex 39. It is as close as you can get to a launch without being in the press section. I drove east on the Beach Line Expressway while Terry snoozed. In the last few miles I asked her to help navigate me to the park. Suddenly there was traffic. Parking spaces were being sold for $20 to $30 dollars. We wandered the back streets until I found a spot on a dead end street next to a dumpster. We walked the five or so blocks to the park. The streets were crowded with families carting their picnic lunches. A homeless man snarled, "Ya'll look like a bunch of cockroaches lookin' for a scrap of bread." I didn't see that. People were excited, anticipating a historic launch.

The entrance to Space View Park was packed with news vans. The park was full of tents from people who had camped out overnight. Terry tried to walk straight out to the pier but we reached a point where we could walk no further. We backtracked a bit and I found a cement ledge to sit on and I began my first sketch. A family lounged in their camping chairs. People kept packing in. The woman behind me had a lanyard on that said she was with a tweet-up group. I asked if the tweeters were all together. She said they were scattered throughout the park. Terry forced her way out to the edge of the park overlooking the river to the north.

When I joined Terry, I could see that the bridge over the river was packed with people. Every square inch of shoreline was also packed with people. In Space View park everyone sat facing the launch pad which was visible to the eye if you knew where to look. I sat facing the crowd and started a second sketch. There were still several hours until the launch. A young couple played cards. Others read or looked at their cell phones. Some slept. There was no Internet or texting since the cell tower couldn't handle all the signals. People were left having to engage in conversations and other analog forms of diversion. A man right behind Terry talked endlessly in a monotone about the boring minutia of his job to his buddy. Terry had to read aloud to concentrate on her book. We had some apples to munch on and some humus. I was content, being able to sketch people up close and personal.

A father and son were casting a net, fishing in the river beside us. The water was just up to their knees. Soon other people waded out into the water. A crowd formed. Even photographers set up their tripods in the rivers muddy bottom waiting for the launch...

Orlando Weekly "Best of Orlando" Party

Each year the Orlando Weekly publishes a "Best of Orlando" edition. There is a category for Best Blog, but this year I threw my AADW votes to The Daily City. Even with my support, The Daily City only got 2nd place. Some Republican political blog won 1st place. Anyway, I was asked to submit an illustration to this edition of the paper and part of the compensation was two comp tickets to the big bash at The Beacham Theater. The Beacham is newly renovated, and I was curious to get a glimpse inside. When I arrived, Brian Feldman was getting ready for his performance piece, "The Boxer." He was going to hand out copies of the Orlando Weekly from inside on of their red newspaper boxes. Since I was early, Brian walked me inside and up to the balcony where I had a view of all the action below. He said, "This is the first time I've been in this theater since I was 11 years old." He went back outside to continue setting up, and I started sketching on my digital tablet.

The bands were doing soundchecks. One group had urban tap dancers and plastic paint cans as drums. As I sketched, people started to trickle in. Busty barmaids in slick black dresses vogued as they shot photos of each other. Soon the place was packed. The bar became a hive of activity. Blackjack tables started getting busy. Entry to the event entitled each person to 1,000 units of Casino Chips, which could be turned in at the end of the evening for prizes.

With my balcony sketch finished, I went outside to sketch Brian. Terry was at the bar trying to shoot photos of Brian Feldman and Mark Baratelli's awards as they popped up on a large video screen. Outside, Brian was in the tiny red box right at the entrance. That meant I had to sit on the sidewalk to get a view of him. I wedged myself against the red velvet rope and got to work. There was maybe two feet of space behind me to the curb and I had to shove forward several times to let caterers by with huge vats of food. I think Brian's presence threw people for a loop and some searched around for another way in. One woman cooed to Brian, "Oh, you're so cute." When she was gone he pointed to the back of his throat and gagged. He had trouble keeping his head up and he napped between groups of people entering the club. People kept offering him food and drink. He always refused. I , on the other hand, was actually quite hungry and parched.

The sketch was going good, the ink work finished, when I heard a voice behind me. It was a policeman on a bike. "Oh no, not again ." I thought. He asked me to, " Move along." Since I wasn't finished with the sketch, I asked, "Can I sit out in the street to avoid blocking pedestrian traffic?" "No," he said, "Then I'd be concerned you might get injured." I just sat for a moment, thinking. He said, "Is he on a time out?" It took me a moment to realize he was referring to Brian in the box. I explained that it was performance art and for a second I thought he was going to ask Brian to move along as well. He didn't. He asked me to move again, then biked off. He didn't say I couldn't stand where I was, so I stood and started quickly throwing down watercolor washes. I worked fast since I figured the bike cop might just go around the block and check back in on my anarchist sketch in progress.

David Plotkin, the new art director at the Orlando Weekly, introduced himself to me just as I was finishing up the sketch. I flipped through my sketchbook to show David and his lady friend my work. I was still rattled thinking the police might return. My wife Terry had just left and I was feeling guilty for not spending more time with her inside the party. I went back inside and made myself several soft tacos from the decimated food table. The stage was empty. I wolfed down the tacos and typed a text message on my cell to Terry, "Heading home." I left, still feeling persecuted by the law. Besides, I wasn't a winner.

White House Concert

Satuko Fujii Ma-do, an experimental jazz quartet from Japan performed at the White House at an unusually early 3pm show. The White House concerts are free, being hosted by Benoit Glaser and his beautiful family. The concert space was designed by Benoit and it is acoustically exceptional. Benoit is the music director for Cirque du Soleil.

When I entered, I immediately wandered up the spiral staircase to the top floor where I filled my watercolor brushes with water in the bathroom. I found a seat right up against the railing overlooking the stage. I love this "god's eye" view. Robin Maria-Pedrero was the visual artist who worked next to the stage. Robin's canvas developed quickly as she brushed in large bold blocks of color. Under these colors was some masking agents which she rubbed off revealing hidden shapes and forms. Her bright multi layered work was a good match to the abstract experimental sounds of Satuko Fujii Ma-do.

The music was often dissonant and disjointed. The trumpet was used to create squealing wet sounds that caused some audience members to laugh uncomfortably. It was fun to sketch to and the rising swell and thrust of each piece inspired the lines I was dashing off on the page. Terry showed up late and her friend Wendy Wallenberg was there to joke around with us as we stood around the snack table after the concert. Wendy took over the hostess duties by straightening up and rearranging everything on the table.

I spoke with Robin the visual artist after the performance. She explained how she likes to find recognizable forms in the abstract brushwork she first puts down. She pointed to a canvas on the wall and said the rabbits were such a revelation to her. I didn't see the rabbits at first and I was surprised when their tiny forms jumped out at me.

Isle of Palms

Terry and I drove to Isle of Palms early in the hopes of avoiding the July 4th traffic rush to the beach. Since we were several hours early we found the Sea Island grill and sat outside by the pool to relax. Terry ordered a coffee and I ordered a very weak lemonade. After the first tasteless sip I forgot about my drink. There were very few people seated outside so I focused my attention on Terry who was reading her New York magazine. If we ever move back to NYC she will have insights to every neighborhood. She has been reading that magazine since we met 23 years ago.

Terry's cousins own a condo right on the beach. Barbecue hot dogs and burgers were being prepared. After a few snacks and sodas everyone headed down to the beach. I slathered some sun block on Terry's back and we ventured into the water. Robbie who is a journalist waded out with us. The water was much colder than the water at Coco Beach in Florida. The first tentative steps were the coldest. Once my bathing suit was wet it was easier to dive in all the way. Well, I didn't actually dive, since I had on a baseball cap and my glasses. I wanted to be able to see the waves. I love jumping up with each swell trying to ride over the wave before it breaks. One wave was just too large. It caught me by surprise causing me to tumble backward doing a flip under water. I felt my glasses flying off underwater and I reached out blindly and they danced on my finger tips before I grasped them. The cap found it's way to the surface later and I scooped it up from the foam. We decided to go back to the beach towels and drop off the glasses. We rushed right back out.

I enjoy the persistent strategy of trying to predict and ride over each wave. It reminds me of dodge ball which I used to enjoy playing in gym. Terry was enjoying the surf as well and for once we could laugh and play like kids. Robbie was talking about his proposed blog so much that I lost sight of the waves behind me and I was again swamped and tossed like a rag doll. Each time I was caught by surprise I would sputter and stand up to the continuing onslaught with renewed enthusiasm. I saw Terry go under as well, and she also faced each new wave with childish buoyancy and delight.

Naval Shipyard

Terry wanted to go for a walk so my sister Shirley drove us to the Naval Shipyard in Charleston. The Shipyard was in operation from 1901 to 1996. A developer by the name of Noisette had a vision to develop the former shipyard into a hip urban neighborhood with luxury condos and a trendy shopping district. Money to finance this Dubai dream ran out. The one thing that was built was the riverfront park which honors Navy veterans through the years. One feature I really like is a black concrete rivulet which runs in a gentle arch from a main fountain. I was drawn to this statue of a couple re-united after war. It reminds me of a famous V-Day photo taken in Times Square.

This park was going to be the home base for a fireworks display on July 4th. There were several dozen construction site mobile lighting units waiting to be set up. Shirley joined Terry on the walk and I worked quickly. I read one plaque that said that this Naval Shipyard was a major manufacturing site for naval mines. When Terry finished her walk, it was time to go.

Cocktails & Cosmos

Terry had purchased tickets to Cocktails and Cosmos at the Orlando Science Center. After we got our arm bands we wandered into the main room on the second floor. Terry made a bee-line to a table that offered clothing for sale and I was immediately intrigued by a mural that was in progress. A guitarist played all night near the mural as guests took red plastic cups of paint and brushed their chosen color onto the canvas. The canvas had two guitars painted in vibrant warm colors and an all seeing eye dead center. The company that organized this community painting was Harmonious Universe. The company's motto is "Be it Share it." They say the motto is alive in the moment. So whatever "it" is to you, then that is what you are to "be." To fully "be it" you must "share it." I identify with the motto since each sketch is incomplete until I share it's story.

There was a fashion show which featured men and women's fashions from the 60's to the present. Peter Murphy introduced the show by telling everyone in the audience to put their hands in the air. He then said hug your neighbor to your left. I was at the end of the row so I had no one to hug but Nikki Mier gave me a warm hug. It was a fun and lively show with each model walking in character from demure 60's flower child to surly rock and rollers. I spoke to Nikki between fashion decades and it turns out she is a store manager for Fairvilla Megastore. I informed her that I once planned to sketch in this adult mega store when a porn star was in town offering autographs. I chickened out or didn't consider it blog worthy at the time. Nikki and Wendy Wallenberg were texting important information throughout the fashion show. I asked if her store contributed items for the fashion show. Unfortunately they didn't, but some of the fashion items in her store are similar. She suggested I sketch Fairvilla before Halloween because the store gets crowded with people trying on costumes. I enjoyed telling her about how I earned money to get myself through college by working as the art director for Oui magazine. I was perhaps the only virgin to ever art direct a Men's magazine. I never discussed this darker side of my career when I worked for Disney.

Carl Knickerbocker was at the event and he wanted to see the iMax movie "The Ultimate Wave Tahiti." I joined him downstairs as the women chatted upstairs. Jelly fish sculptures made from found objects were suspended from the ceiling. They were the work of local artist Doug Rhodehamel. I bet they glow in black light but unfortunately only florescent lights were on. The movie in the three story high theater was mind blowing. I got dizzy a few times as helicopter shots flew over the ocean. I was constantly twisting my neck trying to see everything in my peripheral vision.

Terry, Wendy and a group of women kept laughing as staff rushed around folding chairs and putting away tables. We were the last to leave. I felt like I was watching an episode of Sex in the City. I snapped a photo of them in front of the mural that everyone at the party had helped paint. I take that back, Carl and I never lifted a brush.

The Attack of the Jellies!

Over the Memorial day weekend Terry and I met Elaine Pasekoff and Derrek Hewitt at Coco Beach. We stuffed quarters in the parking meters and hiked over the small boardwalk to the beach. We were surprised that the strip of beach we were on wasn't crowded. A huge sea turtle lay on the dry sand its shell broken. The stench of death overpowered us and we moved up the beach. The umbrella and chairs that Derrek had carried were set up. I was the first to walk to the water's edge. There I was shocked to find billions of jelly fish being washed up in the surf. These were mauve stingers which are usually native to the Mediterranean. The wet sand was littered with jellies each one being the size of a ping pong ball. There was no way I was going in the water. When I looked up and down the beach I realized that there was no one in the water. The pink blobs had taken back the ocean on one of the busiest weekends of the summer season.

Lifeguards treated over 1,800 people for stings. Though not as potent as the sting from a blue Portuguese man-of-war, the stings were painful. Local convenience stores ran out of Benadryl and vinegar. We joked that we might have to pee on each other if we got stung. A few people were sent to local hospitals after suffering from allergic reactions. It wasn't safe in the water. The four of us huddled under the beach umbrella. I sketched the view to the north.

The attack of the jellies was unprecedented. This species of jellyfish had never been seen on these beaches. Jellies are flourishing in the warmer ocean waters, being washed up on beaches more often. After invading the beach for the weekend, the smack of jellyfish disappeared as mysteriously as it appeared.

Signing CDs

Terry got tickets to hear world class violinist, Joshua Bell, play with the Orlando Philharmonic Orchestra at the Bob Carr Theater. We were seated far back away from the stage so I didn't attempt a sketch. Terry pointed out that my name was in the program twice, probably because I had donated a sketch for a fundraiser. The house lights dimmed and I snuggled back into my seat. The music was soothing so I closed my eyes and drifted away. Periodically my head would bob forward and I would shake myself awake before drifting off again. The violinist performed after the intermission. He played admirably with bravado and flair. He stood the whole time shifting his weight often, swaying with the flow of the music.

For an encore he performed "Yankee Doodle" which he spiced up with so much intricate showmanship that it was always a surprise when the simple tune became recognizable. Christopher Wilkins the conductor let everyone know that the violinist would be signing CDs in the lobby after the performance. He joked that if you had your own sharpie, you might be allowed to sign the violin. Apparently the Stradivarius violin has a long colorful history.

I have been searching for lines to draw and there was a huge line of people waiting to get their CDs signed. As soon as I started sketching the line started to move. A handler hurried people along making sure they didn't speak to the musician for long. "Please keep it moving" he kept saying. As I sketched one of the ushers approached me and said I would have to leave the floor. There were hundreds of people in the lobby and I didn't understand why I was being asked to move, but I complied. I continued to work on the sketch from a vantage point on the stairwell to the lobby. When I saw the usher was gone, I returned to my original spot and continued to work. By this time I was in a foul mood. I wondered if the violinist's handler had considered me some sort of threat. Was my sketching causing a disruption? Honestly few people noticed what I was doing. This incident made me feel like sketching events at the Bob Carr is more of a hassle than it is worth.

Bitches of the Kingdom

I desperately wanted to see "Bitches of the Kingdom". The show had won a Patron's Pick Award and so it had one last performance on Memorial Day. I had met the producers Fiely and Dennis and they were so incredibly gracious. When Terry and I arrived at the Shakespeare Theater lobby, there was already a long line. This time around there was no problem picking up tickets. The line stretched from the entrance of the Margeson Theater all the way to the entryway. A volunteer split the line behind us and then had it wind back down the length of the building down a ramp. Every time someone entered, the volunteer would ask them if they had their tickets and a Fringe badge. He would then direct them to the end of the line.

When we got inside the Margeson, we looked for seats on the side lines so I could be close to the performers. Fiely Matias, the show's producer and director pointed to two seats that were being saved with yellow programs taped to the seat backs. Terry was pleased and the seats were in a great spot for me to sketch from. I hooked up a book light to my sketchbook so I could sketch when the house lights went down.

The show was a delight from the start. It plays upon the princess complex that is so prevalent in the Disney Animated films. These princesses look beyond "Happily Ever After." They had attitude. Snow White played by Michelle Knight started things off with a stunning solo. I have seem her perform twice before. She knows how to grab an audience's attention and hold it from the first note. Her voice is hypnotizing. The music and lyrics were written by Dennis Giacono who sat behind the piano. The lyrics and performances were always laugh out loud funny. Snow White held a note for so long that the audience started to clap. Cinderella played by Brittany Berkowitz LeNoir waited excitedly to begin her song. Snow White hogged the spotlight by extending her song with flashy vocal acrobatics, interrupting Cinderella every time she stepped forward. Snow White sang to a pretty bird on her finger then she gently tossed him in the air and he dropped like a rock. She tried to kick him aside like nothing happened. lt was hilarious.

One of my favorite numbers was "All I want to do is Eat!" Cinderella was on the thin side and any Disney princess seemed to always have a pencil thin waste. At the end of this number Cinderella is so lost in the thought of food, that she shivered orgasmically. Belle covered her eyes while the other princesses raised an eyebrow. The song ended with Cinderella getting close to the microphone and taking a rapturous crunch of a potato chip.

Another funny number was "Big Tits." Snow White dominated this number with a sassy, sensual performance that stressed the power she held over any Prince Charming. As she put it, "Do I look like I have to wait for my prince to cum?" After a moments pause the audience roared. Early rehearsals demonstrate much of the charm and magic that was brought to life with today's cast. I can't brag enough about this production. I hope it has a long life in increasingly larger venues. These bitches rule!

Flight out of Panama

Terry and I piled into a cab outside Alison's apartment building at four in the morning. The streets of Panama city were relatively quiet. At the airport there was a long line at the American Airlines counter. Why were they all up so early for? We waited to cheek our bags. Security was the usual hassle, removing shoes, getting the tablet PC into a separate storage bin to go through the x-ray machine. My assortment of art supplies usually sparks curiosity and a second search. This time I just had to put up with a pat down. Terry said the female security officer felt up her breasts.

Terry is usually nervous flying so she took a prescribed tablet to calm her nerves. We checked into the Admirals Club which is much quieter than waiting at the gate. Terry was out like a light. She slept while I sketched until a patch of sunlight crawled along the wall and then shined right into her eyes. At the gate people pushed and formed a long line when section A was announced for boarding. I stood at the back of the line and Terry walked up to the front of the line. She waved me up. She asked several people if they were in section A. They weren't. We cut in front of everyone. Terry explained that she had lived in Venezuela for a year and in Latin America everyone pushes to the front of the line. Bureaucratic courtesies like road signs were ignored.

Terry immediately fell asleep on the plane. An hour late, the plane taxied out to the runway and stopped. Half an hour later the pilot announced that one of the six fuel pumps wasn't working. The air on the plane shut off. The cabin gradually started to heat up. I wished I had worn shorts. I started sweating. People stood in the aisle talking nervously in Spanish. The plane taxied back to a runway and continued to wait. Still there was no air. I was getting lightheaded. There was less oxygen and too much CO2. I calmed my nerves. I might be hyperventilating. They could always deploy the oxygen masks, couldn't they? I was seated right next to one of the exit doors over the wings. I imagined I could force open this emergency exit before I passed out. But what if I passed out first? Terry was sound asleep. The pilot announced that they hoped to get a portable air system trucked in from another airline. An hour later the air turned on. Everyone raised their hands to check the flow of air. Several people stood putting their faces up to the air nozzles inhaling deeply and turning their faces into the breeze.

I don't know if they ever fixed the fuel pump. Three and a half hours late, we accelerated down the runway and took flight. We missed our connecting flight in Miami and had to get our bags to go through customs and head through security again. This time I had to stand in one of the new full body scanners. A bright light bar whirled around me as I stood with my arms up in the sign of surrender. I didn't get to see my nude scan, I was curious. At the Orlando airport we waited forever at baggage claim. Terry's bag arrived early in the process. Everyone else picked up their bags and left. Then an orange cone that said, "Last Bag" showed up on the moving beltway. We went into the office and found out that my bag was still in Miami. I had left a camera in that bag so I didn't have to carry it. What a mistake! A day later my bag was delivered to my doorstep with several new rips and the zipper handles removed. Luckily the camera, which I never did use on the vacation, was safe and sound in it's protective case.

Our Guide

Terry hired a guide, named Rainald Framhein, to drive us around Panama City. The tires on his car had blown out the week before, so he picked us up in a new rental car. Driving in Panama is an adventure. Stop signs and lights seem to be considered suggestions often ignored. Cars merging into traffic would blindly accelerate assuming they would push in. There were several instances when I was certain I would die but our Rainald's lightning fast reflexes saved us. There was a constant angry barrage of horns honking and curses shouted out in Spanish. Alison spoke fluent Spanish after six months of intensive language studies prior to her posting at the U.S. Embassy. Terry knew some Spanish from having lived in Venezuelan for a year. I knew how to say "yes" and "thank you." Luckily many of Panama's citizens knew English. Even better they use American currency.

The first place we explored was the Parque Natural Summit. This natural refuge was established by the United States. We hiked up a two mile dirt road until we reached a grass clearing at the summit where we had a wide panoramic view overlooking all of Panama City. I didn't sketch since I was exhausted and sweaty from the hike and besides I had just sketched the city skyline the day before. As we relaxed, taking in the view, I noticed a long line of Leaf Cutter Ants as they marched down a tree trunk and then along the forest floor. I laughed when I noticed a smaller ant hitching a ride on a leaf fragment being carried by another ant. It turned out even this hitch hiker had a role to perform by keeping parasites away from the leaf. The constant activity reminded me of the angry traffic on the streets of Panama City. The ants were more organized than the concrete civilization below them. They cultivate the leaves to create a fungus which is their food source. They were successfully farming thousands of years before humans. To cleanly cultivate this crop the ants have been using antibiotics which the human race only discovered some 60 years ago. Research is being done that may help make hospitals more sterile and perhaps new drugs can be found from the never ending work of these tireless workers. When the leaves have been cleaned of their fungus, the ants remove the waste and pile it up in immense mounds which are easily seen on the rain forest floor.

Portobello at San Lorenzo

Terry loves old forts. Rainald drove us to San Lorenzo. The ruin of the fort was perched on top of a cliff high above the mouth of the Chargres River. It was first built in 1595 by Spaniards to protect all the South American gold being shipped down the river. It was destroyed by pirate Henry Morgan in 1671 and rebuilt shortly afterward. Morgan captured the fort by shooting flaming arrows which ignited the Spanish gunpowder forcing the troops to surrender. The jungle surrounding the fort was used for decades as a jungle training area by the U.S. military. On the drive in we spotted a large falcon feasting on its bloody prey high up in a branch.

Terry and I wandered the ruins together for a while rushing from one shady spot to the next, then she encouraged me to sketch while she read a book in the shade. I was delighted when she suggested I do a second sketch. Rainald was talking to a Scandinavian couple who had pulled up in an RV. They planned to camp overnight at the fort, and they chatted for quite some time in Swedish. I was feeling great after finishing the second sketch and I started walking back to the shady tree where Terry was reading her book. I was surprised when she met me half way in the forts mote.

She held up her cell phone showing me the calender. She said, "Does this day mean anything to you?" It was April 28th, her birthday. I hadn't looked at a calender since we arrived in Panama. "Oh shit," I thought. She was visibly upset and I didn't know how to make it up to her. As we sat in the shade of the crumbling ruins, Rainald cheerfully approached us, and we had to shout out that we needed some time alone. A week has gone by and I still haven't mended my oversight. I'm not sure I can. I really messed up this time. As I approach 50 I carelessly loose myself searching for the next creative rush. I loose sight of what is most important in life, perhaps overconfident in the impregnable strength of marriage.

Santa Clara Panama

Rainald took us on a several hour drive to the Caribbean coast. We stopped at a bustling roadside bodega and got some delicious mango and peach shakes. Outside the bodega women were seated behind folding tables selling lotto tickets. The tickets were displayed on an abacus style box, folded over metal support wires. Three policemen stood around a motorcycle with their machine guns slung over their shoulders. I of course wanted to sketch, but we had a schedule to keep. The point of a vacation seems to be to go to quiet, serene places to rest and relax. I seem to have a hard time doing that these days.

When we got to the coast we parked near a short boardwalk that lead to a restaurant and bar with a palm leaf roof. Lunch was delicious. I had some large garlic covered shimp that were finger licking good. People in the bar were shouting over a soccer game on TV. Terry asked our guide about a fishing village that was listed in her Foder's guide book. He explained that most of the fishermen had sold their ocean front properties. They would be offered large sums of money, like $100,000 dollars, and they couldn't refuse. 0nce the money was spent, many would no longer have a livelihood. At first I didn't want to sketch. The place seemed spindly and lonely to me. Once I started however I got lost in the process.

One fishing family remained. A young man untangled a fish net the whole time I drew. Terry relaxed under the shade of a Tiki style beach hut. She checked her e-mails on her iPhone and then read a book before taking a siesta. We walked into the surf, but a very strong undertow discouraged us from swimming to far from shore.

Gamboa

The small village of Gamboa was established by the United States in the early 2oth Century to house workers of the Panama Canal dredging division. Located 20 miles northwest of Panama City, it feels remote since it is surrounded by a tropical rainforest. In the morning Rainald took us to Pipeline Road which is supposed to be a fantastic bird watching area. Terry excitedly started a life list on her iPhone noting each new bird species she saw.We had to wait a while when we first arrived for the rain to slow to a drizzle. We then hiked up the muddy road. Terry spotted a Toucan. Luminescent giant blue moths fluttered across our path. Then Rainald stopped and said, "listen." In the distance we could hear the crashing of leaves. Something was moving out there. The sounds grew closer and we moved up and down the trail trying to see into the dense foliage. I asked Rainald if I should be looking at the ground or treetops. He said, "look up."

There was a sudden guttural piercing howl that made my blood run cold. It sounded like an immense mammal on the prowl. I moved my sketchbook over my soft intestines. Then I spotted movement in the treetops. A large group of Howler Monkeys climbed into the tree right next to the trail. They feasted on the leaves. A mother climbed with a baby clutching her belly. One monkey eyed me curiously then went about his browsing. Thank god they weren't as loud as they sounded.

After lunch at the Gamboa Rainforest Resort, Rainald drove us to the home he first bought when he moved to Panama. It is typical of most of the houses in the village with the first floor being wide open on silts. He has been renovating the home slowly over the years. Now the structure is wide open with the windows removed as he is reworking all the interior walls. Terry was insisting he find me a place to sketch and I just sat on a curb to get this sketch done.

He then drove us to the central town square. Terry wanted to rest so she lay down on a picnic table under a gazebo This fire station with it's gleaming engine proudly jutting from the garage caught my eye. Rainald disappeared while I sketched. I glanced back and noticed a local man decided to take a siesta on a bench near Terry. As I was finishing my sketch Rainald walked up and introduced me to a local artist and her boyfriend who did research on butterflies. I gave her a sketchbook to flip through and we had an animated conversation about art. She was a portrait painter and she had a show going up on May 6th. She realized immediately that I would probably like to sketch the butterfly research facility. She explained how artists stay connected in Panama via Facebook. For me this chat was a real highlight of the trip, making me realize the unlimited potential in exploring a new culture. It was great to meet an artist in such a remote place. Unfortunately we were on the move and there wasn't enough time to follow these new leads.

Casco Viejo

Casco Viejo is the historic quarter of Panama City. It is located on a small peninsula just south of all the modern highrise construction. It is surrounded by slums and we were instructed to never walk into these districts. The old quarters streets are narrow one lane passages. The historic buildings are run down and life is lived in the open. People sit on stoops and lounge on balconies. Windows are all thrown open in the hopes of catching a sea breeze. On the way to a restaurant I caught a glimpse of a woman using her kitchen as a hair salon. A toddler stumbled unattended on a second floor balcony. Men shot craps in a narrow alley. Life bustled everywhere waiting to be drawn.

Alison brought Terry and I to a small outdoor cafe in the Plaza Bolivar. While we sipped drinks and had lunch, I sketched the monument to Venezuelan General Simon Bolivar the "Liberator of Latin America." An Andean condor was perched on top of the monument. In 1926 Bolivar organized a meeting of independance with the leaders from all over Latin America in the plaza.
At the base of the monument there were wreaths of live flowers. Alison wished the Embassy had given her an apartment in one of the 19th century buildings surrounding the plaza. She imagined lowering a basket from her balcony so the cafe could send her up a siesta snack.

Armed with machine guns and motorcycles, there was a constant military presence on the streets. This was unnerving at first. There were only a few tacky tourist shops. The quarter instead had a sincere lived in history. I could have spent the entire week there and never run out of things to draw.I rushed the sketch so we could drink in more of the sights.

Panama

Terry's niece, Alison Brown, has just begun working as a cultural attache at the American Embassy in Panama. Terry and I decided to fly down for a visit. As the plane approached Panama City I was surprised by all the new sky-rises that sparkled like the Emerald City. Alison picked us up at the airport in her sporty little yellow jeep. Getting into and out of Panama City by car is apparently a challenge. Allison couldn't find the highway back to the city so we wandered the back roads back to the city. Coca Cola signs and Kentucky Fried Chicken joints were everywhere. Housing for many consisted of hastily constucted tenements with tiny balconies where laundry was hung to dry. The cement structures were covered in a dark wet mold that dripped down the facades.

Alison's apartment was in a brand new sky-rise tower that looked like it belonged on the Las Vegas strip. Her thirteenth floor balcony had a great view of all the new construction so I grabbed a dining room chair and sat outside to sketch. Walking up to the low glass railing gave me vertigo but once I was busy sketching, I forgot the height. Alison's neighborhood sprouted up in the last year. She lives across from a brand new hospital and a block away from a sparkling mall. Land has been cleared for two new sky-rises behind her building. Little had been done in these empty lots in the months that she has been working at the Embassy.

At night the skyline is mysteriously dark. Most of these new buildings are deserted. Few lights flicker against the starry night sky. There are rumors that Colombian drug money is laundered into the new construction. It is hotter in Panama than Orlando. My shirt was sweat stained before I completed the sketch. Alison took us to the mall for some delicious tapas. The mall looked like any mall in America with its chrome furnishings and giant screen ads.