Tuesday, October 03, 2006

San Diego, Strangely, Part II


See previous post for Part I.

A bit of history: Two weeks prior, some ne’re-do-wells broke into my locker at the YMCA and nicked my money clip, which contained among other items my driver’s license. So what I had that night in San Diego was the temporary, paper license the DMV gives you in lieu of the in-process actual driver’s license.

The bar maid at O'Connells took one look at the temporary and said, “Nope, we can’t serve you with this.” “Whaaa?” said I. “I’ve been served in at least four other bars with this thing. What’s the deal?” “Well then go back to one of those bars, but we can’t serve you here.”

And she walked away. I was crestfallen, but I tried to put on a good face. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad deal not drinking. I had to motor back up to L.A. the next day to work till late anyway. No biggie, so long as I got to see The Blanks.

A few minutes later, the bar maid came back, and before Ryan could get his order out of his mouth, she said to me, “No, you don’t get it. You can’t even be here.”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Noooooo. No. Please, no.

“Are you serious? I drove all the way from L.A. to see The Blanks! I know these guys from Michigan! C’mon!”

“Nope,” the bar maid said.

Ryan and I stagger out of the bar, stunned at this rejection. After a bout of sailor talk and foot stomping, I call Schmidt, who explains the situation to The Blanks, who promise to put in a good word for me at O’Connells. We walk to another bar within spitting distance of O’Connells, which – like every other flippin’ bar I’ve visited recently – served me with a smile.

A few minutes later, Schmidt shows up, we slam our Miller Lites, and we head back to O’Connells. The Blanks have explained the sitch to the owner, who says she’ll leave the decision (pass the buck?) to the door man. I pathetically show the man my temporary, my Y card, and my debit card.

Again, no. Again, cripes!

Knowing we were beat, Ryan and I headed back to the friendlier confines we’d just left. We ended up making the best of a sucktastic situation by catching up with each other and conversing with good folks at the other bar. Schmidt later made an appearance to say it was the greatest Blanks show ever. And that they, at my request, dedicated a song to me. Not bad consolation, actually.

We ended the night by hoofing it over to Mike Ried’s house and rapping with him and Fancy Dan Nordheim for a while before catching a cab back to Ryan’s.

So what’s my take? And what does the San Diego mayor’s office have to say about it? That, my friends, is for tomorrow.

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

Total bullshit. You should have pulled up your shirt and said, "Does this look like anything less than 21 years of hair growth?" Problem solved.

Flipping Tiger and flipping Gum Boy got served today ... must win in Game 2.

JC

Craig said...

Funniest Rocket Fever comment ever. Ever.

Drake said...

not sure if you guys heard this one yet:

http://houserockbuilt.blogspot.com/2006/09/msu-radio-host-melts-fucking-down-on.html

there's never a shortage of overly-serious football fanatics in OUR LOVELY STATE! on that note though, it must be said, you guys did choke agaisnt Notre Dame.

GO BLUE!

Craig said...

While Paul Drake is always welcome on Rocket Fever, the phrase "GO BLUE" is banned in perpetuity.

Drake said...

Hey, perhaps I was making reference to the LA Dodgers?

Solari said...

I don't think it's Drake's footballs - or any U-M man's, really - that are blue.

Drake said...

Got that, Solari?

Try posting sober next time;)