As the festivities began to wind down, friends began to go back to their homes. The party came to a close. I found myself alone again, and I was greatful. I rode around Wynwood, with all of my posessions in a pack on my back, and in a box I carried under my arm. I spiraled out from the main drag into the surrounding neighborhoods. I thought to casually find my way to a bus station where I would buy a departing ticket. After some time, I found myself in the design district, where I recognized my friend Kalinska installing a mural. I approached her and struck up a conversation. She got the gig to paint this one final wall (for commission) before she left town. I wished her the best of luck, then carried on with my bike ride. I circled the building and was excited to see the other side being painted with graffiti murals. I recognized my friend, See, and hollered out to him. He explained that he and some friends had just essentially legally commomdeered the building for a mural project, and that there was likely empty space if I wanted to collaborate on it. I agreed with excitement. Johnny, the boss of the project, came down the ladder from the rooftop that he was painting. He looked through my sketchbook and some photos of my work to see if I was up to snuff. I passed the litmus test. He showed me a section of wall where I could start. The wall in question was beautifully painted with four letter pieces from old school New York writers. I shook Johnny's hand before heading off to a nearby hotel. I knew that this job would require more than a day. I checked in to the hotel, bought paint, returned to the wall, and began that evening.
I started with a letter piece in the top left corner to block in a big empty space. The space was narrow so I thought either to do an elongated character or an elongated letter piece. I chose the latter because the balance of the wall I felt depended on it. After the piece, I sketched a hand on the opposite side of the wall. The sketch was lovely, so I left it to be finished later. I began filling in big sections of the background of the wall with color, creating compositions which assisted the flow of the eye across the wall in an infinity symbol fashion. The wall was coming out well.
I spent that night at the hotel. In the morning I felt an itch. Perhaps I was allergic to the spraypaint as it came into contact with my skin..
I spent that whole day painting. Another night in the hotel. My skin was itching and I began to feel assured that I was reacting to something..
I spent the entirety of the next day painting. In the evening, I met Optimum, another painter from New York. He was a charachter. He wore a tophat and had many exciting stories to tell. Johnny kept us company for some time before leaving to visit his lady friend. Optimum and I finished painting for the night. I offered to hos thim in my hotel room if he wanted a place to sleep. He agreed. I told him about my itching sking and inquired if it could be an allergic reaction to paint. He said that it looked more like bug bites, perhaps bed bugs. We stripped the beds and searched for bed bug signs, but found nothing. Slightly paranoid, we climbed into our respective beds and turned in for the night.
In the morning, I awoke to Optimum's shouting, "Dogg, wake up! Bedbugs!"
It was true, the room was infested with bedbugs. We turned on the lights and began searching in the sheets. Optimum went right into action mode documenting the scene for legal amunition if the situation called for it. We found two bugs crawling in the sheets, and catured them as specimens for evidence. We went to the front desk of the hotel and asked for our money back. I was refunded one nights' worth but was declined the full three nights' payment, as the manager was off premises at the time. We agreed to wait for the manager, as we had a strong case. When the manager arrived, Optimum and I recounted our experiences. He noted that if I did not complain the first night, then I failed to identify the problem and therefore was not able to recieve reimbursement for the stay. I emphasized to him how thus far I had been cooperative and sompassionate to the hotel's situation, and that I had yet to tell any other guest about the situation, or for that matter use the word 'bedbug'. I told him that I meant to be respectfull, but that I intend to recieve full reimbursement for the duration of my stay. I then turned around, unzipped my jacket, and showed him my back. I had around 50 bites across my back. It looked awful. I put my jacket back on and turned to face him. His expression showed concern. I could see him processing the potential lawsuit. He agreed to my terms, and I recieved full compensation for the stay. On our way out, we saw that the room was being stripped and prepared for treatment.
We went to the wall and painted all day. Optimum painted over my sketched hand to put up a character. His seniority assured that I would not second guess his decision, though it drastically changed the dynamics that I felt pulled the wall together. In the evening, we did our laundry, then checked in to another hotel.
