Thrust into the modern era

So, I’ve been out of pocket for a while. I start a band, and then everyone and their mother starts calling me for their gigs. Great! It’s especially great for my pocket.

             The downside is that I piss of four other guys who have donated their time and effort to my project. However, It doesn’t mean that these days spent away from my house (and band) aren’t filled to the brim with high adventure, and hapless dumbassery.

 For example, a few weeks ago, I was running errands between rehearsals. I stop to get gas. This seems a simple enough task, right?

Aye, there’s the rub.


                               I park at the pump, I get out of the car, and make my way towards the gas station. Once inside, I pay for my gas at the register, and walk back outside to my car, to discover that I don’t have my keys, and my car is locked.

                                                                     And then I see them.

                                                                  On the center console.

                                                             The ignition key is broken.

To make matters worse, at this point is where I notice my phone.

                                                                   On the center console.


Fighting back the urge erupt in a rage-filled, primal, expletive-laden, volcanic tirade, I go back to the cash register, and promptly ask for a refund. I also inform the employees that I will be leaving my car in front of  the pump (with an explanation, of course).

It’s 2:30 in the afternoon. In Texas. In June.

                                                             Then I start walking.

I knew that I was a couple of miles away from a friend’s house.Let’s call him “Hodge.” He’d let me use his phone, if he or his wife were at home. I used to live in the area, so I knew my way around. I cut through a business park, and meander towards another major thoroughfare in the area. I remembered that there used to be pay phones in the area, and with my caveman instincts, I figured that at least one of them would be there, and hopefully, still in operation. Don’t get it twisted! I knew that operational pay phones were in a serious decline.

             But dammit, there is a rather candid difference between “in decline” and “totally obsolete.”

               I pass a couple of convenience stores that used to have pay phones.


All of them.

                  So, I continue on to Hodge’s house. Of course, neither he nor his wife are not at home. At this point, I’ve been walking for about two and a half hours.

                 So, I realize that there is another friend of mine that lives about a mile a way from Hodge. Let’s call this one: “The Egyptian”.

                                                                           As I depart from the eaves of Hodge’s domicile, I stop at one of the convenience stores in the area, and get a bottle of water. Of course, there is no pay phone. For some reason, on this hot bastard of a day, my deductive reasoning is faulty, and my resolve (aka: stubbornness) is indomitable. I buy some water, and keep my feet moving’.

                                                               I stroll down to The Egyptian’s neighborhood. I was hoping he was at home, because at this point, it’s a little after 5 PM. I was praying for a cold beer and air conditioning.


                                                    There must be some kind of intergalactic joke of which I am the butt. WTF? The Egyptian isn’t home either?! What the hell!? Was there a memo that I missed? Is somebody giving away some free stuff? Dammit!!


So I trek away from the Egyptian’s house and neighborhood, and head south. There’s a coffee shop up the road. I know some of the employees. Let’s hope that they’re there. But first, let’s keep doing dumb things like looking for pay phones! It’s not as if THAT hasn’t prolonged this madness! But alas, I still look for pay phones in the area, become irritated because they aren’t in the places that  I remember them, and continue to grow more and more frustrated at my apalling lack of success.


 I finally get to the coffee shop, use a girl’s phone (I knew her),and contact an ally. I preface the  call to my ally with “…I hope that the fact that I am contacting you via someone else’s phone give you an idea of the severity of the situation…” Eventually, I get a ride home,  get my spare key, and then go back to the gas station. it’s about 7:30 PM at this point.


                        My Keys! My phone!

                                 The best part of it: The broken key in the ignition was hanging out of the ignition, and I was able to remove it with my fingers! But, in restrospect:

                                    1. I was thrust into the modern era with the recognition that pay phones don’t exist in 2012, and it took almost five hours in Texas heat to figure it out.

                                    2. This story is living proof that they still could be useful.

                                    3. I’m done with this post. Peace.













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