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May 4, 2009 - 09:35 PM |
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Fuck today. Fuck today HARD. |
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So today I was determined. I was going to take care of this ticket I had. I got up early, had plenty of quarters for parking, had a book. I was good to go.
However, once I got up, I felt wrong about the whole day. I figured it was just because I was up early (9am, which is early for me, fuck you). As it turns out, it was not.
I get to the courthouse around 9:45, throw 2 hours of quarters into the meter (about 12 quarters) and head inside. An old man has a heart attack or something in the lobby. This was another bad omen. I get where I need to go and am told I have the wrong papers. I leave the courthouse with a 1:48 on the meter. Someone after me would be very happy.
I drive back across to an even farther part of town from there to get the papers and drive back. Down the block from the courthouse a fucking car in front of me literally like, exploded. Fire shoots from the guy's hood and he runs out like it's ready to explode. Another bad (but kinda cool) omen. I get there, throw another hour of quarters in and head inside. The ticket is taken care of. Sweet. Time to go home.
I get to my car, a little annoyed at the setback, but glad it's done. Ohoho, I was wrong. I locked my keys in the car.
Now, I am low on quarters, so I have to go back to the courthouse and get change. I use some of them to call my friend, who calls a locksmith for me. They say it will be twenty minutes. I wait by my car, watching the time tick by on my meter. An hour later, still nothing. It's noonish now, and hot.
I get a passerby to let me use their phone (for fear of going inside and missing the smith) to call her again. She says she's heard nothing from them, so I go back to waiting. Another hour goes by. I flag down some bicycle cops and ask them if they could help me out with a phone or something, but instead they offer to call a different locksmith. They radio in some shit.
I go to an ice cream truck to get another dollar in quarters for the machine. I wait in the sun more. By now it's around 3:00 or so. I get a nice young lady to let me use her fancy iphone to call my girlfriend to let her know she isn't getting a ride home. She tells me to call my dad, who I didn't know was off work. I do, he says he'll bring my spare. YAY.
Not.
The locksmith shows up not long later. The police one. The one my friend called vanished into thin air. I tell him to leave because my dad is coming and he is late as fuck. The nice young lady comes by again and says that my dad called her back, saying he didn't have my spare key, but was coming anyway. What?
Yes. He shows up with a wire hanger and plyers, which we use to open my passenger side door. Finally I get to go home. So tired. So sunburned.
Some lessons I learned:
Get a fucking cell phone.
Huge black guys with ankle bracelets and white trash are nicer than lawyers and other office folk, as they were the only ones who let me use their phones. Lawyers would ignore me like I was some sort of vagrant. Fuck them.
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