We had another thrilling, fun-filled weekend.
First, we went out Friday night for dinner and to see Craig Ferguson. I think I’ve seen him three times now, and he’s always hilarious and a great time. He swore us to secrecy, though, and we’re not to repeat any of his jokes. He was talking about how people get in trouble for what they say these days, but honestly, he didn’t say anything troubling. I’m a firm believer that “everyone is too sensitive these days!” is way overblown and the vast majority of people are fine. But I digress.
Saturday, my mom was making soup, so we all headed over (minus Paul, who was doing an escape room with coworkers) and had lunch and hung out for the afternoon before Brandon and I drove back to his apartment to go see The Struts.
We made the fateful decision to not take the T from the South Hills like usual but instead take it from the slightly closer station in nearby Library.
So we go to the concert, have a great time as I mentioned in my previous post, the band’s kicking ass and playing a good bit longer than we expect, and the show runs after 11, finally wrapped up around 11:30, and the audience slowly makes its way out of the venue and we head to our T station.
This was, like, the perfect storm of mishaps and bad timing. It turned out that the final train for Library left at 11:40, and we’d missed it by minutes–like, maybe five. If anything was a tad different, if the band maybe spent less time between songs or people walked faster, we probably would’ve made it. Sometimes, though, especially for events, the schedule isn’t completely accurate, so I figured we’d wait it out until we saw a train arrive twice, because then we’d be pretty certain that there wouldn’t be one for us.
In the meantime, both of our phones had died. And again, if we figure this out a little sooner or Brandon’s battery doesn’t die down on the platform, we could’ve called Katie and Gage, who were with us, to come get us and drive us to our car. My first plan was to just take it the T somewhere we could use a phone, but Brandon was worried that the time that would take would mean we’d potentially miss the other final trains, especially since at this point it was midnight. The thing that made the most sense in the time we had to figure something out was to ride to South Hills, especially since we’re familiar with it, and borrow a phone on the T to call Paul to pick us up there and drive us back to Brandon’s car.
The first woman we asked said the phone wouldn’t work underground, which…true, but we were gonna wait until after that and were asking people early so we’d, you know, have enough time to make the call and get picked up. So after she got off and we were out of the underground section, we went for two middle-aged ladies, I called Paul, who was like, “Great job, guys,” and we rode on to the South Hills.
You have to pay to park in the garage right above the T, and I didn’t want Paul to end up paying just to pick us up, so I was hoping we’d beat him there. And we did. We stood at the best stop, well-lit and right along the road right in front of the garage, and…he didn’t see us and drove right by. I sent Brandon running and yelling for him, who probably looked fucking nuts, and fortunately, Brandon caught him before he made it to the ticketed entrance. Turns out he’d initially missed the turn to where we were and had to turn around and was so focused that he just blew right passed us. He said he even thought maybe we’d be doing, well, exactly what we did in waiting on the sidewalk.
So he drove us to Brandon’s car, and since my car was still at Brandon’s, I went with him. I mean, we could’ve gone home and gone back for it the next day, but that seemed like a bigger hassle than it was worth, especially since at that point, we weren’t far.
So finally, around 2:30 in the morning–a solid three hours after the show ended–I was home. And Paul says to me, “Before I knew you needed picked up and were gonna be this late, I told Terra we’d help her and Jon move him out of his apartment tomorrow.” Well…fuck it, okay, I’m getting a much-needed snack, going to bed, and getting up to move someone out, I guess.
Pretty much my whole body hurt when I got up, but a hot shower pretty much fixed it and we were out the door. Jon had surgery on his Achilles’ tendon a few months ago and during his recovery basically was living with Terra, so with his lease up, we were just moving what was left. We filled our cars twice, had some lunch, and ended up being gone basically all day. Moving is such a bitch–it never goes as fast and as easily as it seems like it should.
And that’s how I managed to not be home pretty much all weekend.