888: Not Today, Hades!
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From WB-EZ Chicago, it's This American Life, I'm Aixris Condirajah in for Ira Glass. Pablo, does this feel like an Icarus story to you? Maybe, potentially. What part? Well, Icarus dies, not that part. This is Pablo Manriquez, and he recently survived his own personal Greek tragedy. He's a reporter in Washington, D.C., known him for years, and this all began when a ripped open package showed up on his front stoop. It's late winter, 2022, I find a box outside of my apartment. Inside is a canvas, a couple, like the four primary colors, a paintbrush, and a palette. It just seems like a sign, and that's like, what's the sign? It was just, I thought to myself, somebody painted every painting in the Capitol in the White House, and the Department of Justice, all these agency buildings, they have oil paintings. And yet, in the 15 years that I've been in Washington, I've never met an oil painter. It's this light bulb moment. That could be him. It wasn't the first time he decided to become a new Pablo. When we first met, he was doing PR work, but he decided he wanted to be a reporter no matter what. So at 37, he moved into a flop house and began freelancing for small publications. And now he spends his days chasing down politicians in the halls of Congress. He made it happen. So, with these art supplies, he began to imagine this other life for himself. And he made a Pablo kind of plan. So, if I become an oil painter, I would basically be the only oil painter I know. And in some sense, have a monopoly on oil painting in Washington. I mean, if you want an oil painting, especially a portrait, you have to come and be... Well, Pablo lacks in skill and experience he compensates for with heat-seeking opportunism and blinding self-confidence. It can rub people the wrong way, but I appreciate the hustle. Pablo, it's so funny to me that you're trying to pick one career in a, I can say, a dying industry by supplementing your income with another dying industry, reporting an artist. It's like the two poorest. It didn't make any sense to a lot of people. But it made sense to Pablo. Pablo looked down at the new tools in his hands and then tilted his head skyward. Even as Icarus did before him, he saw a way to soar where no mortal had dared to soar. Our show today, Mitz, in real life. What happened next to Pablo and other daring actions by mortals challenging their small lives. And a cameo by a real-life god. Because, you know, the gods get mad if you don't include them. And I'm too busy to get smote. Not today, Hades. Stay with us. It's this American life. Act 1, Icarus. So, Pablo Manriquez in Washington, D.C. had received these art supplies. Perhaps discarded by an Amazon package thief or perhaps a gift from the gods. And he figured there's all these big egos in town who would love to be memorialized in oil portraits. Well, I could do that for them. Even though Pablo himself had never painted a portrait in his life or painted anything for that matter. I had sort of a clear vision in mind of what I needed to do. I needed to learn how to paint a face. Politicians have them. You can't sell a portrait without one. Pablo finds a YouTube channel called Paint Coach. It has a 10-minute crash course. He follows along. He starts moving paint around on the canvas. And he's hooked. In his head, he's already competing with the legends who are hanging on walls around town. He just needs a first subject to paint. It's got to be someone widely recognizable. Someone distinct and iconic. So, he picks Mitch McConnell.
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