I started the night by telling my roommate I shouldn't go out. I have to work early tomorrow and shouldn't spend a lot of money this weekend. I was just going to go to the brewery and then dinner and catch the caltrain home so I could be in bed by 11. The worst part is, it all went according to plan...almost.
So our friend's brother was in town and we decided to go to the Prohibition Brewery in South San Francisco. Ok wait, lets back track. Stories are always more interesting if you get a background story. Kinda like a Lost episode. So I was feeling pretty good about life because I had a job interview for a position I really wanted. I was up at 6am getting my interview attire ready and then rolling into work. I didn't eat lunch because I had to roll straight from work to the interview (which I think went really well, but I won't find out if someone is going to pay me money until Tuesday). I got home from the interview and went straight to the brewery. Empty stomach and beer with a 10% alc. content = cheap date. The Prohibition Brewery was cool though. 6 of their very delicious brews on tap, some snacks, a crappy jazz band, and a lot of hippies. Like a lot. I was embarrassed to wear my nerd goggles because I didn't want to be confused with the vegans in the room. The only criticism I have of the brewery itself though was the location. I think I got tagged going from the car to the brewery. Oh, and the fact that two other friends going to meet us there couldn't find a cabbie that was willing to drive to that neighborhood. Ok, this is all boring. I haven't set anything up well and you have an image of me hanging out in a warehouse in the neighborhood from Boyz in the Hood with Berkeley Students. Let's just skip to the point. I am sauced after three beers due to my empty stomach now cursing at me in growl noises, but I can still go according to plan and get home after dinner escaping an expensive night and waking up after a refreshing full 7 hours of sleep.
Next was the pizza place. Let me just get to the ending. Credit card roulette is a cruel bitch. Six guys drinking several bottles of wine and 4 pizzas when someone suggests credit card roulette. I had the liquid courage going and love making stupid bets. $170 + tip at stake and we drew the plastic money survivor style. Now maybe a $200 or so risk doesn't seem like too much damage, but I work at Starbucks because I still can't find a real job since moving up here in April. My income isn't what it used to be. Two cards without my name later, I had a one in four shot of losing now. Two cards later, it is between me and one other guy. The waitress pulls a card out and says "Mike." Awesome right? Nope. The other guys name is Mike too. And guess who is the lucky billapalooza payer for this feast. So it looks like I won't be going to the bars for a while.
Well I lost out on goal number one of not spending too much money. I'm not all that mad about it, because...well I don't get mad about much of anything. Besides, looking back on this whole mess, it is funny. No use on stressing out on things that are out of your control. I rolled the dice and I lost. It happens. At least I can take the train home and get to bed at a respectable hour. Right? Sure. Got on the train and just shut my eyes. Well, when I opened them again I heard them calling out the Santa Clara station coming up. ... Santa Clara... Wait what?
I SLEPT THROUGH MY STATION.
Not only did I sleep through my stop, I slept through 12 more stations and 30 miles. I slept a lot on public transportation back when I used it in L.A, and just got used to sleeping through the noise and movement. Turns out this is not a desirable skill to have all the time. As the frying pan to the fire situation goes, this is the last train for the night. 10pm turn to midnight and I am stuck several zip codes away from my house. No more northbound trains until 7am, and I need to be at work at 7:30am. Now would be a good time to freak out, but I don't really do that ever either. I just start walking north on the train tracks and call a couple people. My roommate suggests haggling a cabbie for a $30 ride (on a 30 mile trip...) or getting a hotel. I don't see anything resembling a hotel or a cabbie anywhere near where I am. I did see a couple trailer parks though. Then my phone starts beeping that it's bed time is soon until I get it a charge. With phone death impending and me walking along the train tracks like bo-tiddly the bum, things are not looking good.
I sent out a desperation text to my roommate's old roommate who is married and lives in San Jose.
Me: This sounds stupid, but I'm stuck in San Jose. If you could help me out I'd love you long time.
Jeff: Who is this?
Me: Flower.
Jeff: Yeah, be there in 15-20 min.
Seriously. That is clutch. I just wanted a place to crash until I could catch the morning train, but he gave me a ride home. A 40 minute drive home. Turns out it was the best possible night for me to screw up like this because he was flying a red eye flight to Canada for work and needed to pass my place to get to SFO airport. And so the story ends, I got a couple hours of sleep before enduring a long day at work where espresso shots did nothing to help my body want to recover. Sure some would chock it up to a really crappy day, but I get a funny story to tell despite the hurt wallet, feet, and internal clock (it's 7pm and I want to pass out and wake up Monday). Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go re-evaluate life and go to bed.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
And then I wouldn't have been able to read that awesome post. Quality!
ReplyDelete