The year is 1994. The Artist finds himself in a situation no one ever thought could happen. How does he get out of it, or perhaps more importantly, how did he get there in the first place?
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July 27, 1994
**The Artist POV**
I woke up and wiped the sleep out of my eyes and looked around. I saw that I was on the beach in downtown Minneapolis, but for some reason I couldn't recall just how I'd gotten there. The beach was deserted, and I could tell it was late afternoon as the sun was low in the sky.
Despite several minutes going by with me trying to recall just how and why I woke to find myself here without any success, I decided to go through my pockets see if anything there would jog my memory, but all I found was about $250 in cash, but no phone or wallet. Man, this is strange, I thought to myself.
Deciding that just standing here obviously wasn't going to help any, I started to walk away from the beach toward First Avenue as it looked like the beach would be closing for the day soon, and I still couldn't figure out why I was at the beach in the first place, or just where I was supposed to be going.
Unfortunately, I didn't manage to get far before a woman with a baby in a stroller approaches me screaming, "Hey Artist! Can I get an autograph and picture with you?"
Who is this Artist she's speaking of? I wonder, confused. Thinking she must be thinking of someone else, I give her a confused look and just keep walking.
"What are you just going to ignore me?!" the woman continues, following me with a dirty look on her face. Her baby all of a sudden wakes up and starts screaming.
"I'm sorry, but I think you have me mistaken for someone else," I shout back and continue on my way. What is this woman talking about? I have no idea who she thinks I am, but she's clearly mistaking me for someone else.
The woman picks up her infant and rocks it in an attempt to soothe it as I continue ambling toward First Avenue. I only got a few steps further away when I heard the woman shout at me. "Fine Artist, be an asshole!"
This grabbed the attention of several people just inside some local businesses, who started peering out into the street. These people caught sight of me, and heard this woman continue to scream and point in my direction while rocking her child.
The woman just didn't seem to get the idea that I wasn't whoever she thought I was, and needless to say, the woman's actions only served to make her child scream even louder, and continued to create an even bigger scene.
Geez, what is all this fuss about? I've got to get out of here! This 'Artist' must be a bigger deal than I initially thought, and these people must have me mistaken for him!
Just as the mob starts to close in, I sprint away as fast as the heels on my feet will take me. What was I thinking wearing these things anyway?!
I'm running for what seems like miles from an ever increasing amount of people right on my heels literally, when I feel my right heel start to give underneath me. Shit! I continue hobbling away as fast as my broken heel will allow, knowing that there's no way in hell I'll be able to escape the ever increasing throng of people just behind me.
The shouts are quickly becoming deafening, when just as my heel gives up the ghost and snaps beneath me, I feel a hand grabbing my arm and pulling me into a nearby shop.
Still panicked, I look over into the face of my saviour to see a young woman with dark hair and two of the bluest eyes I've ever seen.
"Are you alright sir?" the woman asks. "I couldn't help but notice everything going on out there. Why are all those people chasing you?" confusion and concern written all over her beautiful face.
"I'm not sure. It all started after I walked by this woman who mistook me for someone else. I tried to explain to her that I wasn't whoever she thought I was, but she persisted and started to make a scene. The next thing I know, more and more people are chasing after me shouting for 'The Artist', whoever that is. They must think I'm this mysterious 'Artist' for some reason." I continue with a look of confusion on my face. "Have you heard of this person?" I ask.
"I'm afraid not," she replies with chagrin as she looks down, seemingly embarrassed by my innocent question. "But I just moved to Minneapolis from the Cook Islands a couple months ago, which probably explains it. It looks like I pulled you out of the way just in time though, given what your shoe looks like."
"Thanks for that by the way." I take a moment and glance outside just in time to see the ever increasing mass of people continue on running past the shop.
"I think he went that way!" one of the ring leaders shouts, pointing up the street to the left. Everyone screams and heads off in a direction opposite the shop I'd been pulled into.
I sigh in relief, and take my first real look at the shop I was pulled into. It was a simple tourist shop, filled with all the tacky souvenirs you'd find in any tourist shop, anywhere in the world. However, a tourist shop never looked better to me.
"I'm Iolani, by the way," I hear from just off to my left. I look toward the woman who saved me. She has her hand outstretched looking for a handshake.
I look at her dainty hand, covered in rings of various shapes and sizes, and place my hand in hers. I offer her my most dazzling smile. "Nice to meet you, Iolani."
"And you are?" she continues, matching grin on her face.
That's all it takes to bring a look of dismayed confusion to my face. "I wish I knew." I mutter.
