Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Entry 1: Part 3 - The Final Part

Parts 1 and 2 below.

I don't have any friends down here yet, so when I heard that a coworker's band was playing at a bar in Fayetteville (about 30 minutes south of me) I figured it was the perfect opportunity to carouse and maybe find a lady friend. Well, what with security deposits, first and last months' rent, getting a new phone because T-Mobile no workie so good down here, paying off student loans, and basic living expenses, my bank account was running on fumes. Nevertheless, I figured a cheap night out watching a band and maybe having a couple drinks would be okay. I earned it, right?

I get to Fayetteville and park in the parking garage (I guess having to pay for parking is a very recent addition in Fayetteville) and proceed, by myself, to a bar I've never been to. I walk inside and some old guy is glaring at me expectantly. I say hi and he says there's a $5 cover. Well thanks to the parking garage I only had $4.05, so I tried to cut a bargain with him.

Me: "Well, I have about $4. Will that cut it?"

Geezer: "About $5 will cut it."

Me: "Oh, come on, you can let it slide this time right?"

Geezer: "The cover is $5."

Me: "I have money on my card, if I promise to buy drinks with it and tip, can you let me in for $4."

Geezer: "It's $5. Besides, if you spend money on drinks you'll have even less to pay cover with."

Me (under my breath): "Fuck you, old man. You make no sense."

I'm a bit steamed, but I head back outside to brave the weather and try to find an ATM in a town I've never been to. I figured that since I drove all this way, plus it being a Friday night and my coworker's band was playing, it might be worth it. I finally found an ATM and it charges me a $4 service fee. The steam continues to build.

I got back inside and hand Scrooge my $5 and decide to order a drink. A rum and coke. A normal rum and coke in a normal establishment is like $6, max. Well the bartender makes it and tells me it's $13, and with the customary $1 tip, I'm well on my way to blasting through all my bank account's fumes. I don't see anyone I know at the bar, and the crowd is all 40+, so I become the stereotypical wallflower and chug my overpriced drink to drown my sorrows.

After the show I finally meet up with some work friends and they invite me to a restaurant to eat and chat, which I agree to. "First," I say, "I must put money in my parking spot because it expires soon." I'm told that a ticket should only be like 4 bucks so I'm not too worried and head over to the restaurant, but another person tells me that if my car gets booted it is a $100 fine. Since my feeble bank account could handle no such stress, I went to check on my car. "It should be fine, I'm only 15 minutes late," I tell myself. But sure enough, there are 2 bright yellow boots on my tires and a sticker on the window telling me to call a number to get the boots removed for $100. I went back to my party and told them that I would not be joining them for tea and crumpets as my steam level had risen past the point of good spirits. I go back to my car and I call the number and am told it'll be $105 for them to come help me. I'm now fully prepared to overdraft my bank account.

Just then a security car pulls up and this nice old man gets out and asks to see my ticket. I pull the ticket out of my pocket to show him and he says, "Well you are supposed to place this ticket on the dashboard so we can see it." I tell him that I was just following the big sign that read, "HOLD ONTO TICKET AS PROOF OF PAYMENT." He tells me that I should have ignored that sign and followed the other sign saying to place it on my dashboard. I flash him a "really??" look and he assures me that he will remove the boots, noticing I have Kansas tags. He warns me that the other security guard is not as nice, and I thank him for understanding.

Just then my bank account gave a sigh of relief.

With the good news, I decide to go find my new work friends at the restaurant, but two of them are missing. After questioning their absence, I'm told that they rounded up $100 and were out looking for me to help me pay for my new boots, and it was as if all my steam had been released. I was very thankful, and enjoyed the rest of the evening. All's well that ends well I guess, right?

1 comment:

  1. Arkansas sounds like a hell hole! Who in their right mind would live down the street from those dirty Duggars? And you really should be careful when vacuuming up all your shorn pubic hair. Many a vacuum cleaner has expired that way.