Monday, February 06, 2006

If Only I Had a Guitar and a Hound Dog, I Could Write a Song.

Saturday morning, I experienced the worst few hours of my life. Of your life, too, unless you have lost a limb in a horrible machinery accident. In fact, it might take the loss of two limbs to equal the horribleness of my morning.

To set the stage, I had previously agreed to baby-sit for this woman's baby at the high school where her older daughter was having a dance recital. At 8:00 on Saturday morning.

So at about 1:30 AM on Saturday morning, when I'm staggering home from the bar, I check my messages and find out that she left me a message saying she might not need me, as her husband might be able to make it to the recital after all, and that she'd call and let me know. At 7:30 AM, I wake up, head pounding, and check my messages. Nothing. I call, get a hold of her, and she says yes, she still needs me. So I get up, get dressed (barely), take some aspirin, and head out the door.

At 7:45 AM, about two miles from my house, my tire blows out on the interstate. Fuck fuck fuck. At this time, I realize I left my cell phone at home. Fuck again. So I get out and try to flag someone down. Did I mention that this morning it happens to be TWENTY EFFING DEGREES out? Apparently, I look extremely dangerous, because I'm standing in the cold for about fifteen minutes before someone finally stops. First I call the mom to tell her I'll be a bit late, and she says it's fine. I call AMBF, expecting him to be my knight in shining armor and come rescue me, and...he doesn't answer his phone. Because it's 8:00 on a Saturday morning. And no one in their right mind is up. And I don't have my cell phone, so I don't know anyone else's number to call. I give the guy back his cell, and he speeds away, before I could ask for a ride anywhere.

So. I guess I'll be trying to change the tire. Which I've done before, and can do easily, except, again, it's 20 degrees out. And I have no hat, no gloves, no scarf.

So I try to change the tire. Only Volkswagen put these black plastic caps on the lugnuts, and I can't get them off. There is no tool in the kit that matches the opening on them. And it's cold. And it's early. And I'm hungover. I'm at this point just crouching by the tire, holding a tire iron, staring at the wheel, willing it to remove itself. My hands are blue, and I'm on the verge of tears. Which is stupid, it's just a tire, right? But I was being foiled by bits of black plastic.

Finally, someone sees me and pulls over. Super nice old guy with a long white beard. He has it all, the super deluxe tire iron, the nice tire jack, and, most importantly, GLOVES. He and I change the tire in a jiffy (except for one bit, where the tire won't come off, even with both of us kicking it, but he gets some really heavy tool he had in his truck and bangs on it and it eventually comes off). I'm finally good to go. A few minutes late, but good to go. Like the CrunchWrap Supreme at Taco Bell.

So I get to the street that the high school is on, and can't find it. I know it's on this street, but I missed it somehow. I stop at a gas station to ask, and they tell me it's a few miles down the road. Which seems strange, because I didn't think it was that far, but whatever. Gas station attendants are always right. I find the high school that they were talking about, and it's the wrong one. At this point, I'm just like, "Fuck it, I'm going home. Screw this." I turn around and start driving home, and on the way back I see the right school. So I go in, and look for the mom. There are hundreds of people milling about and like a gazillion dressing rooms. I can't find her, so I borrow someone's cell to call. No answer. I leave a message and keep looking. A few minutes later, I see her daughter, who leads me to her mom, who tells me, "Oh! I just called you. My husband made it after all, so I don't need you."

Seriously. Fucking A. Fucking fuckety fuckhead. Fuck fuck.

24 comments:

AlRo said...

Jesus H. Christ - i'd be PISSED!
I woulda blown my top!

Honey Bunny said...

that would have made me FURIOUS! and i would have demanded she pay anyway.

Scoot said...

Just.....wow.....

That's what ya get for doing nice things for people. See? It doesn't pay. :)

Chris said...

Man, that just sucks. And the car never breaks down, or blows a tire or whatever automotive jackassery when you're just kind of driving around, or running errands. It's ALWAYS when you have somewhere you have to be. And to go through all that, and then not even need to be there... ugh.

I sincerely hope you turned around, went home and had an entire bottle of vodka for breakfast.

Thomas, the Retarded Monkey said...

...and then your doctor calls - you have cancer.

A Ripple Effect said...

hungover or not, that is a bad morning.

bigfootcookie said...

"Oh! I just called you. My husband made it after all, so I don't need you."

Click, Click.

BOOOOOOMM!!

Both fuckin' barrels.

Now a morning like THAT, is a reason to go Postal.

Amethyst Rising said...

Just following a link from another blog and found yours... If you didn't go postal on this woman I congratulate you on your self-control!

LadyBuggArtist said...

I've been saying this all along... this is where most of your country songs come from. I mean, without the bumps and potholes in the road, how could you ever figure out what type of shock absorbers you gonna need? :-)

the belligerent intellectual said...

I would have punched her in the face. Then I would have punched the baby in the face. I'm kidding, I'd never punch a baby. Maybe the older daughter though. You need resolve in these situations.

Michael Manning said...

SOUNDS AWFUL. GLAD IT'S IN YOUR PAST. WHEW!

Paladin said...

Hmmm, you COULD have called AMW mom and dad. I bet they would have helped, and probably popped for some hot chocolate at the gas station as well!

Poor kid!

Mars said...

har: all the adventure, none of the responsibility :)

scott c said...

I think it's awesome that you used "effing" in the after using a variation of "fuck" like 7 times.

Sorry your day sucked. You should have called... Oh wait...
sc.

scott c said...

Because I'm perfecting an new form of english (2.0), please delete the "in the" from my comment.
thanks!
sc.

Shep said...

I would have all of that fun, but with the added joy that it would be my child that needed to be picked up...

Robert said...

I couldn't believe the first guy drove off leaving you stranded.

That story fits the classic definition of stress:

Stress is your mind's ability to overrride your body's desire to choke the living crap out of someone who richly deserves it.

King Nate Unknown said...

I guess the little Nazi whatever you call it sucks when it comes to changing a tire. Those kits that come with the car are worthless. Get a real tire iron for your own sanity if this should happen again.

TYSEN said...

holy shit that's crazy... I never have stories like that... or maybe you just tell it so well!

Anonymous said...

Oh. My. God.
Words simply fail.
Losing an arm would be easy after that.
Do get a new tire iron and connect it with that stupid stupid stupid woman's face.

I trust she did still pay you?

*

browser58 said...

Thank you, Thank you, Thank you. Just put my shitty day in perspective.

Keep up the good work.

sue said...

Sucks to be you.... uh...I mean... gee, sorry. ;)

Roonie said...

Well, look on the bright side - at least you got a nice early start to your day. I hope you went to McDonald's. Best I-have-to-be-awake-early-in-the-morning hangover food ever.

Brianne said...

Oh goodness. That SUCKS!!! All this while hungover. I got a headache just reading that! I would have been beyond irate. I probably would've broken down in tears when the mom told me that. I hope to hell you told her what all you went through just to get there and help her out. I hope she gave you money anyway!