There are times in my life where extremely obnoxious things happen for unexplained reasons. Call it kismet, karma, divine intervention, yes, you could even luck. Myself, I call it a typical ordinary day...
It started with a invite from a friend who wanted to go hang out with me Friday evening. I was to join friend and friend's friend for some food and a little boozing. I figured, "hey, what else do I have to do on a Friday night? Pack my worldly possessions for my upcoming move to god knows where since I haven't found a new apartment that I can afford on a decent side of town yet? Pffff... Naaaaah."
The initial meetup began by noticing that my truck tire was slowly going flat.
As a side note, I will pay to the order the amount of: one crispy bean and cheese taco and thirty-eight/.00 cents--------------------- to the person who invents a tire polymer that can withstand not only being pierced by a nail but can also survive nuclear annihilation, being eaten by wolves and being poked with sporks. I seem to be running over a ton of nails these days and I'm sick to death of having to sit in the fucking tire shop for 1.25 hours at a time waiting for the tire to be fixed.
If there is anything in this world that I truly hate, it is that I hate tires, tire shops, changing tires, rotating tires, tire warranties and tire disposal fees. Hate hate hate, tire tire tire, die die die.
But, I digress. We were discussing Friday, were we not?
So, yon tire was flat. Forsooth! Found a pump and charged it full of air again, thinking it was just a slow leak from yet another nail. I could deal with it later.
We made our way downtown to the festival that we agreed to meet at. It is then that my friend's friend recognizes that she can't bring her blue heeler/collie mixed beast into the festival. Those who are used to Austin are used to Austin's outdoor festivals allowing dogs to be admitted, one and all. So, it was a logical assumption to expect that this gal's dog would be totally legal.
Nope.
Well, my friend offers to keep the dog at their house. Ok, no problem. Friend of friend needed to stay so that other friends would know where to meet, so I drove my friend and the dog to my friend's house.
Just stop me if this confuses you any. Lord knows I have no idea where I'm at at this point.
Anyway, we arrive at my friend's house. Just as we open the door to my vehicle, the dog bolts off faster than, well, a really fast dog. Hey, if you want farm-fresh crazy metaphors, similes and homonyms, I'm all fresh out.
So, here we are, chasing this dog up and down the street, yelling "SKY! SKY! C'Mere, SKY!" which is probably as useful as writing a letter of intent to arrest said dog on parchment and having USPS attempt to deliver to the address "3810 No Way In Hell St., Poughkeepsie, NY" and having then send a reply back via rhesus monkey.
It just wasn't going to happen.
Our best bet was to attempt to corral the dog into a corner than coax him out with a snausage or a severed limb or something. We might get lucky. Or not.
My friend went to go retrieve some dog treats from the house while I attempted to locate Sky's whereabouts. I saw the dog bolting out from between two houses. I shouted after the dog when I heard, "IS THIS YOUR DOG?!?!" coming from the side door of one of the houses.
I peered into the darkness and saw a lady standing inside her door with a phone to her ear.
"No, ma'am, this is my friend's dog. I'm just attempting to wrangle him."
"Well, I'm calling the police. I found that dog inside my house and since I just got home, someone obviously broke in here to let him in!"
What?!?!?! I was beside myself.
"Ma'am, I can assure you that we've only been out here chasing that dog for the past ten minutes."
She closed her door.
Goddamnit.
I went to find my friend to tell said friend to call their friend to get her over here to deal with HER dog. Just in time for the law to arrive.
Now, it has been only six months since my dog had been flattened by a passing motorist, so I was feeling guilty as hell for this dog getting loose on my watch. True, I couldn't have prevented it, but I'd much rather not have to deal with puppy pancakes. And I sure as hell didn't want to deal with the Law, but there you have it.
The attending law enforcement professional pointed me to the curb with a gruff "Wait here."
Visions of Perry Mason court dramas filled my head as I feared the possibility of ending up in the hoosegow for being an accomplice to the dog's B&E rap. Or a ticket at the very least.
A few minutes pass and the dog is by now long gone. By this time a large storm was starting to slowly creep into the area which will soon pelt the city with heavy rain, hail and a weak tornado or two.
Finally, just as the officer emerges from the house, the owner of the dog arrives and rushes up to claim responsibility. Thank deus.
The officer's final analysis of the "scene" was that the lady had been unloading groceries into the house and since the door had been open, the dog had sneaked inside undetected until she closed the door behind her. Thank deus, part deaux.
Spoke with both the officer and the lady for a few minutes. Mostly glad that everything was ok, nothing broken or missing. The Law promised that while he had to go back on patrol, he'd keep an eye out.
I say my farewells and then my friend and friend of friend split up to look for the missing Sky. I should mention that at this point, finding Sky was going to be difficult since the sky opened up with a fury of rain, wind and hail.
I searched around for a good twenty minutes before the rain finally tapered off. By this point, we had each completed two circuits of the neighborhood and I began to patrol the streets of an adjacent neighborhood.
Slowly, I drove down the street, shining my flashlight under bushes and trees. I was in my truck with the headlights and flashers on.
As I passed one house, I noticed a lady in her living room window just staring straight at me. She had this look of concentration and I muttered to myself "1:1 she's on the phone with teh fuzz about me."
Still, I continued down the street before meeting up with my friend at the set rendezvous point. Our next plan was to drive by the local elementary school since it had plenty of trees, overhangs and covered porches that would be perfect places to shelter oneself from the rain.
Sure enough, we found Sky walking away from the school in our direction. Sky's owner jumped from her car and shouted her name. A happy reunion that was more of a big relief to me than anything.
We corralled the dog and returned to my friend's house. Our next plan was to drop Sky off in my friend's house and then fetch some tacos. Seemed like a plan to me. I'd have a few tacos to calm down first and then I'd casually exit, stage right.
Just as we pulled into Taco Bell, the officer from earlier called Sky's owner, who put it on speaker.
"Did you find your dog?"
Yes."Good news! By the way, were you prowling around in a white truck earlier? Some lady called us twice to report it..."
I sank quietly in my seat, knowing full well that I had called that one dead on. The Owner spoke to the cop for a moment and then pulled out a pipe from her pocket.
I recognized the pipe for what it was but wasn't about to shout, "HEY, don't smoke your damned weed in my truck, biatch!" Not with a deputized peace officer in earshot. So, I just rolled down the windows and glared at her, hoping she'd get the hint.
My friend stared at her too, my friend's jaw set in disbelief. What kind of benighted twit smokes a bowl in someone else, let alone a stranger's car?
My attitude about weed has always been that it's not for me. Since I have worked with a ton of potheads over the years, I'm less inclined to be morally offended about something that's really a personal choice. I won't stop people from doing it or bitch about it as long as it's not hurting myself, other people or seriously getting themselves into trouble with other things. It's been my experience to worry more about the raging alcoholic than the occassional potsmoker.
Still, what kind of fucking moron smokes a bowl in someone else's car while speaking to the local constabulary? If you're going to burn one, do it in the comfort of your own home and not in a situation where you can put people's lives and freedom in danger.
I turned on the AC at this point while my friend attempted to get Dumbass Dog Owner to stop by a series of hand gestures and dirty looks. Dumbass thought the situation was hilarious and began to flirt with the cop while fighting my friend's attempt to seize the pipe and lighter.
Thankfully, the ride was very short. I stopped in front of the door and let them both out. I told my friend that I had enough fun for one night and that I needed to get up early the next morning, so... See ya.
I pulled over at the nearest gas station and stepped outside for some calming quiet. I cannot remember the last time I had been this frustrated with people and their lack of common sense. Here I am, 31 years old, and I'm dealing with people who are my age but still acting like goddamned teenagers.
I stared at my truck for a moment and noticed that the tire was now quickly losing pressure. I'd have to change it. In the rain. At 10:00 at night. At a not very well lit gas station.
Feck it all. And people wonder why I don't socialize very often...
Labels: Complaint Department, Oh Noes, Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot
