Page 133 of Hello Stranger

For the auction component of the show, each artist had a sleek, Jetsons-style cocktail table next to their portrait with a clipboard on it for patrons to write down their bids.

Bradley Winterbottom had to request an extra bid sheet after his filled up—front and back—but do I even need to say how many bids wound up on my clipboard during the entire time that I stood there?

Zero. That’s right.

But was that the worst, most insulting part of the evening?

Wow. That’s a tough call.

Let’s review the options:

There were all the shocked looks people gave my portrait from across the room—hands over mouths, eyes big with pity—the way you might rubberneck past a car wreck.

There was the moment when I accidentally knocked over the bucket of A/C drippings and then apologetically mopped it up with paper towels from the bathroom, one drippy bunch at a time, while other artists and patrons glanced over with irritation like I was really bringing everyone down.

There were the endless ten minutes when another finalist, who wore a little porkpie hat, went by the single pseudonym Lysander, and apparently possessed a nervous digestive system, had to work through some brutal digestive issues in the men’s room, which I could of course hear in detail from my primo spot by the bathroom doors—grunts, splashes, and all.

Oh. And there was the time when I took a pee break and overheard some judges who seized that moment to dart over and laugh at my work. Yes, that’s how close my placement was to the bathrooms. I could literally hear these people talkingfrom the stall.

“What is happening here?” Judge 1 asked, in a horrified whisper.

“Iknow,” Judge 2 said.

“Did the artist… leave?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“I never would have shown up at all.”

“She must have fled.”

“Right? Off tonot quit her day job.”

“Or to fling herself off a bridge.”

They snickered at that.

“It’s just so bizarre,” one went on pensively. “The body and background are so exquisite…”

“But then you get to the face.”

“I keep thinking it’s Carl Sagan.”

“I keep seeing Steve Buscemi.”

“It looks like a wolf face, in a way.”

“Impossible. Animals are against the rules.”

“Right? It’s notveterinaryportraiture.”

“Whatever it is, it’s like the face melted.”

“Or got hit with a pie right before the sitting.”

“Or landed facedown in mud.”

“Or had a botched cosmetic surgery.”

---