Art Van and the Bishop final... 3-18-11

The first hint of trouble came when I had to switch arms mid-way through the "conversation" with Art's Mistress. I say that guardedly, because one did not have an actual conversation with her--one was merely allowed to listen as she switched between ranting and gushing about him. When I straightened out the offending arm and massaged it, the cramping slowly abated. Then it was just a matter of alternating ears and positions so that my grimacing would not interrupt her train of thought. After what seemed like a millenium, I spotted several attendee's leaving the dinnner. I begged Art's Mistress to discharge me, and clicked off my cell phone. Art and his Emminence squeezed though the doors deeply engrossed in conversation. I was out of the car and waiting with both doors open long before they arrived. Anyone who has read all three of these updates thus far knows what is coming next: the cramping began in the right arm first. Knife blades in the forearm would have been less painful.  I massaged it with the left hand, but to little avail. I switched hands on the wheel. Art and his holiness were re-living the dinner menu and failed to notice the slight veer. The left forearm began to cramp within another mile. I considered having Art drive while I smoozed with his Emminence in the back seat. I wanted to ask him if the little red hat got hot in the summer anyway. The bottom line is that I toughed it out for the remainder of the ride and none of us perished, and I don't go for long drives after bicep day at the gym.