“The Pilot” very much enjoys the comedian Lewis Black. He has gone to his concerts in the past and proudly showed me a t-shirt from when he last saw him. I think it would be safe to say that Lewis Black is a hero to him.
I had purchased tickets for his upcoming birthday for the October 6, 2018 “The Joke’s On Us” tour at the Chicago Theater. With all the email reminders about the upcoming date, I began to wonder if it was possible that he would try to hack into my Ticketmaster account and use the tickets without me. When I thought about it, I decided to change my password on that account as well, but I was still concerned that he may have gotten into it already and printed the tickets for his own use. Fortunately, when my friend and I arrived at the Chicago Theater last night, there was no issue to be had.
As we settled into our seats for the show, they made an announcement about how one could go to a website and enter a rant that may be read at the end of the show, when Lewis does live streaming. Even though they said the address slowly, twice I was so nervous, I wasn’t certain that I had gone to the correct site. I took a chance and began to tell my story in a window that stated, “Start typing your little note to the universe. I’ll take it from there.” I wrote about how I had recently ended a nine year relationship when I had my eyes opened by the “other woman” and how I had kicked him out. I wrote about how he lied about being a pilot not only me, but apparently to his entire family. I added how he owed me $10,000 in back rent because he had stopped paying me rent when he said there was an issue at work. He said that he was only getting a third of his pay when really he had been scamming unemployment and they finally caught up with him and he had to pay them back. I wanted to add a “Lewis Black” like comment, so I said something to the effect of, “Fuck his lying cheating ass!” I ended it with a statement of now being free and invited Lewis to join me for a drink after the show. I finished the entry and hit “submit” feeling certain that my message went into some mysterious black hole never to be retrieved.
The show began and there was an opening act. John Bowman was entertaining, but since the man sitting in front of me was rather tall, I couldn’t see him unless I tilted to one side or the other, rather irritating. I wasn’t in a good mood to begin with, which I believe is fair considering the state of my life at present, but I really wasn’t enjoying the show. There was a break between Bowman and Black and my friend offered to switch seats with me, so we did. Now I could see, but my mood wasn’t improving. I began to wonder, what if I did go to the correct site and what if Lewis Black chose my rant, would he read it and think I was a total shumuck who got what they deserved and go on a rant about how stupid I was. I did state that I had never met his family, would that be the statement that stuck in his head and use to make me look like a complete fool? All I could do was hope that he didn’t get my little note to the universe and if he did, he didn’t pick it.
The regular portion of the show ended and John Bowman came back out onto stage to get the crowd excited about doing the live streaming. He stepped off stage as Lewis made his return. He brought along with him an iPad and began to read entries that had been submitted to him. Some were from people who had chimed in from elsewhere and some from those currently in the theater. I kept wondering, if mine would be included and if so, what would be said about me?
And then, it happened. Lewis Black began with saying that this rant was from someone who obviously needed to get something off their chest. Lewis Black began to read my little note to the universe! As my words came flowing from his mouth, I was scared and thrilled all at the same time. I felt my hands clenching my knees and then crossing my arms as if to protect myself from any pain that may be inflicted by cruel words of my being a sad excuse of a human being. I think I may have even closed my eyes for a time as if to make the whole scenario disappear. However, the fatal blows never came. Instead, he appeared to be on my side. Not only was Lewis Black on my side, the entire audience was on my side. My friend rubbed my arm and said something like, “See?” as if to let me know that he wasn’t going to ream me, he was going after “the pilot”. Yes, his hero was stating that what he did was horrible and that he needed psychological help, his hero dissed him!
The whole thing was surreal. When Lewis got to the part about me inviting him out for a drink, he suggested that John Bowman was available and then he went onto the next rant. There were more rants from the audience at the Chicago Theater including one from a man who said that while he was at this show, his wife was at home fucking another man. Lewis suggested that he and I meet after the show, that we should remain behind the crowds and meet, but I didn’t do that. Lord knows I certainly didn’t need to add his baggage to mine.
Instead, my friend and I went out for a drink. The first hotel we went to had a line and a $10 cover just to go up to the rooftop bar, fuck that. We ended up at my friend’s second choice, the Virgin Hotel. There was no line, no charge and they were actually friendly and inviting to us. It was a beautiful view, but we couldn’t find any outside seating. We found a nice spot inside and as my friend went to get us a couple of drinks, I sent a link and wrote about what had just happened to “the other woman”. Funny, it was her I wanted to tell the most about the Lewis Black rant. I was about to post it on Facebook, but when I realized that the link showed last night’s streaming, not what was streamed that night, I stopped. I told my friend how I wanted to put it on Facebook, how I wanted the world to see that not only did Lewis Black feel sorry for me, that he had dissed him. She said that the best revenge is by me living well, that was not what I wanted to hear. It made me sad to think that once again, I can’t do what I want because it will make me look like the bad guy, when I’m not. I realized she was right, but it did not feel good.
I still have urges to contact the people I have found info on in his personal belongings. I still want to out him and somehow make him pay for what he has done to me. Even “the other woman” thinks I should tell people because what he did to me was so much more than what he did to her, he was living with me for Christ’s sake. Somehow, I should be able to destroy him, I should have that right and maybe I do, but then what would that make me? It would make me lower myself to his level, is what it would do and I really don’t want that. It’s not who I am. Sometimes it’s hard to wear the white hat all the time, but it truly is who I am. No matter how much I fantasize about slapping him or twisting the knife, I don’t think I will. I’d rather let him slowly ruin himself as he struggles to get out of the web of lies of his own creation. In a way, that makes me sound horrible, but I didn’t spin the web, he did. I’m the one that managed to get out and walk away weary and battle worn, but free.
Earlier that same day, we had an event at work. I had to put out the “Health Fair” sandwich board sign and I usually tie balloons to it so people may notice it more, but I forgot to buy some. Then I realized, I still had the huge heart shaped balloon that a singing telegram had delivered to me in my office after the breakup. I had wanted to ceremonially set it free weeks ago, but I was told that it was illegal to do so, so I didn’t. I tied it to the sign and took it out to the corner of our parking lot. It was a windy day, so it thrust around tugging to get away, but I had triple knotted the ribbon, it should have been fine. After the event, I went to retrieve the sign. I smiled as I walked towards it, realizing that the balloon was gone, it had escaped, my heart had been set free. I guess it was a sign of things to come that evening. I may not have told the world about “the pilot”, but I did have my moment at the Chicago Theater. I’d say at least three thousand people heard my story, heard his hero dis him. Three thousand is a good start. When I compile my writings and publish them, thousands more will read my story and then maybe I can smirk and twist that knife, just a little bit as I earn the $10,000 he owes me. Hey, it could happen.
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