After going non-stop last week, I needed to recover. I did however, have a pretty kick-ass gig at the Peacock Room last Friday night, which would not have been possible without my ‘back line’. And despite a change in bass players due to scheduling, followed by a not-so-hot rehearsal, the guys still pulled it off beautifully – mmmmyeah we killed it! Kudos!
Post crazy “gig week”, I had every intention of resting and lying low, but of course as usual, things came up. That Saturday afternoon, I headed over to my friends to work on the evite for Up! @ SKYSIXTY, which in itself would have been fine, but then I received a text from Jon, the lawyer, aka “tucked in” (which Sarah and I have fondly started calling him ever since he showed up @ SKY with his shirt tucked in), asking if I wanted to join him and some of his friends at “Other Bar” on Wall Street to watch some World Cup. I don’t know why I just couldn’t take a rain check, as tired as I was, but I didn’t, and I headed downtown. That afternoon ended up being a perfect example of what happens when you are doing something you probably shouldn’t be doing. I’ll explain.
As you can probably imagine, it was extremely hot that day, so I hardly felt like walking to Wall Street, and I was also really excited at the thought of using the disabled parking tag my dad left in my car, so I drove, and lucky for me I found the perfect handicap parking space less than a block away from my destination. I parked, got out, looked around cautiously, and proceeded towards “Other Bar”. I met up with “tucked-in” and pretended to watch the game for a while. I was feeling pretty smug about my “parking accomplishment”, so I of course brought it up in conversation, thinking I was super cool, and I got exactly the reaction I thought I would get. “Britt you’re such a badass – not fair!” and “She’s a keeper, Jon!”. yeah I was pretty awesome.
After another 15 minutes of standing around in a much to crowded bar without a drink, I felt the need to check on my Malibu. Maybe it was the fact that I was board watching the soccer/fútbol, maybe it was the imaginary drink in my hand, or maybe I really did just want to go home, but for whatever the reason, I eventually gave in to the nudging feeling, and headed back to my ‘ride’ feeling fairly confident that ‘she’ would be in the spot where I left her.
As I got closer, I realized that something was very wrong, and the sinking feeling came over me. Oh no. no-no NO NO NO!!!!!! My car was towed – and by-the-way, who tows a car with a visibly displayed disabled tag!?! – Just saying. In my earlier excitement I failed to notice the Private Lot sign near the entry way. A combination of desperation, anger (mainly at myself), and then embarrassment rushed in. And all I could hear was Jon’s friend, saying “she’s a keeper.” – yeah, a real keeper. I dialed the number on the towing sign and a husky female voice “greeted” me, (how appropriate) and yes, they did indeed have my car, $100 cash if retrieved within the first 24 hours. Well Amen! I was expecting somewhere in the ballpark of $240, but still $100 down the drain was enough to make me sick.
I was too embarrassed to go back into the bar and Jon, who was in no condition to drive, had walked anyway, so I called my brother, who unfortunately was working. It was Christie and Evan Miga to the rescue along with their loveable pup, Fisher! They picked me up within 20 minutes of my desperate call and drove me to the seedy tow truck lot, well actually two seedy tow truck lots – down the street from each other. We wandered around the first lot, Tyler’s Towing, for a good two minutes before we were approached by a creepy old man – “Can I help ya?” he asked before telling us we were in the wrong place. so close though!
As I approached the correct cashier’s window (at the correct tow lot) I noticed a home-made flyer that read, “FREE KITTENS”, and I had to laugh not only at the ridiculousness of the advertisement, but at the entire situation, and my own stupidity. What else can you do but laugh? Live and learn, live and learn.