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RSSWedding Tales: Just Getting There
Feb 11
Relationships Love, marriage, Weddings Comments Off
If this is any indication of the weekend ahead, I’m in trouble.
It is Thursday night and I am leaving tomorrow in the Bride’s car to drive down to Long Island Nowhere. My mission is to gas up the car, pack, and enjoy the rest of the night with a burrito from Qdoba in one hand, and the remote control in the other. (You thought I was going to say something else, didn’t you?)
I noticed after I got home tonight that car’s passenger side rear tire was flat. Single digit PSI. No big deal, I was planning on getting dinner from the burrito place, and gas. I just added air pump to the list with a minimal amount of complication.
I drove the entire length of Somerville looking for a gas station with a working air pump. First gas station (the one where I actually stopped for gas) broken. The second gas station I thought I would drive by wasn’t there. I don’t know if I missed it or if it mysteriously evaporated. The third, the air pump was there, the hose was not. Someone had tied it up inside the service bay. (Who steals an air hose?)
Finally, I found a gas station, almost in Medford, 3 miles from my apartment. The pump was 75 cents. 75 cents! For that, I can play Cops and Donuts for an hour at Foxwoods. Well, fortunately I had taken 50 cents out of my laundry money just in case I had to pay to pump. Unfortunately, the pump was 75 cents. Wife only had nickels in her ashtray, and it was clear she actually used her ashtray so I wasn’t touchin’ those anyhow.
On to the next gas station, same predicament. Now I have been gone for an hour, any thought of burritos and remote controls fled thirty minutes ago. Finally, I found a pump for 50 cents, somewhere still on Broadway, east of my house. Closer than I was from the further point, but having gone in an enormous circle to get there. The pump and I didn’t get along. The gauge was broken and it took me 10 PSI to figure it out that I was overinflating the tire. What happens when someone doesn’t have their own gauge and they think they are still at 12 PSI just before the tire explodes? But at the conclusion of my adventure, the tire had been properly inflated, gassed, and I was not gassed because I never got my burrito.
I was so annoyed, I forgot about doubling back to Qdoba and I drove straight home. I made it on to Atherton a block from my street going the wrong direction. Atherton and all the streets around here are one way. Yeah…not a good start to my long (island) weekend.
Just as icing on the cake, television on Thursday night sucks. I still have to pack.
