According to John Hodgman, Turner’s Falls does not exist, and there was no Secret Show there on July 29, 2008. Nevertheless I called Google 411 (which thankfully does exist) from Palm Springs, California (which does exist, but shouldn’t), at around 6PM Pacific Time and requested that the address and phone number for the Rendezvous in Turners Falls be texted to my phone.
I did this because someone (John Hodgman) was spreading rumors on the Internet that there would indeed be a second “secret” show that night and I was sad I could not be there. I was sad for two reasons. Number 1, I am a single guy and standing in a crowded bar surrounded by strangers may be the most physical contact I can get in a week. Number 2, Mr. Hodgman had attempted to give me some advice about what to do with myself post-Nation-West loss. I thought perhaps I caught him off guard with my question because his only response was to suggest that it was a good thing that someone with my kind of problems was sitting at a bar.
I took this to mean that I should drink a lot and so I ordered a seltzer and lime even though the juice spritzer I had already consumed was quite satisfying. As you might imagine, continuing to drink in this way did nothing for my mood, although it did give me something to do – repetitively empty my bladder.
Remembering that Mr. Hodgman had attempted to answer the phone when it rang at the Rendezvous on the 22nd, I thought perhaps calling in would be a good way to ask a follow-up question. It worked. He took my call. I explained that I had taken his advice about drinking and somehow ended up at a substance abuse prevention conference. He simply told me that he did not believe me, and then started taking other questions. I was left on the other end of the line, hearing all the frivolity and laughter. No one could hear my cries for attention any longer.
I assert that it is indeed true that I was in Palm Springs at a substance abuse prevention conference. I took a photo of me and the statue of Palm Springs’ former mayor, Sonny Bono, to prove it. Maybe I should arrange a seance and see if Sonny Bono has some advice for me or at least will believe my sorry tale.



