I’m gonna tell this story from my perspective, because that’s the way it happened to me.
I was in our new hangout called Fox & Hound with Kevin, Erick, Mike, and this girl Allison I barely just met. Anyway, we were playing pool and Kevin was in the off rotation and decided to take this chance to go to his truck and get his pool stick. About 5 minutes into the game I just started, Kevin comes running in and hits me really hard in the shoulder and says “get the fuck out here” or something like that and immediately turned around and started running back outside. Now, Kevin has never steered me wrong so I don’t question it and just start running with him through this crowded pool hall, through the bar on my way outside. So I’m figuring we’re going to fight for whatever reason. Maybe somebody stole Kevin’s pool cue or broke into his car or hit on his bartender, whatever. So I’m mentally prepping myself for this fight. While I’m on my way out, I hear over the loud speaker throughout the entire bar “Can the owner of a maroon station wagon please come to the front desk. Your car is rolling through the parking lot.” So it’s embarrassing enough that I drive a station wagon, but now it’s broadcast all through the building. Not only that, but now it’s drifting through the parking lot somehow. And I’m running through the bar/pool hall behind a guy in cowboy boots and everybody is staring at me. So now everybody knows that I drive a station wagon with a faulty emergency brake. Apparently, the brake isn’t strong enough to prevent the car from rolling when it isn’t pulled up. I should really write to the manufacturer about that. It’s a hazard for people who occasionally forget to put their emergency brakes on. Thankfully I was smart enough to park in a spot uphill from someone who was fortunate enough to have a parking brake that functioned properly. When that guy left, however, my car started drifting toward the owner’s Beamer. Seeing this, the host of the restaurant ran out to try to stop my car. Seeing the host yell “Holy Shit!” and run outside to catch my car, Kevin also yelled “Holy Shit!” and ran out to help him. With his cowboy boots providing just enough traction to help the host, my car was caught just in time to not cost me like $13,000 in damages to the overcompensating owner of the bar (and car). Having stopped the car and not being able to really leave or move, Kev did what anyone in this day and age would do. He called me on his cell. I did not answer. When enough people found out what was going on, a few guys held the car so Kev could come get me. And that’s where I last left you. So now the girl I just met and the cute waitress knew I drove a maroon station wagon with that faulty emergency brake. Thankfully I didn’t have a shot with either of them anyway, so that brought a little piece of mind. If nothing else, I can always look for a little piece of mind by counting the women I don’t have a shot with.
So when we got back to the pool table and I had gotten into my car and put the brake on, etc., Allison asked us what had happened. We recreated the story I just recounted for you but with 4 people telling it in a broken-narrative, Dustin-degrading sorta way…
Kevin: “Shit like this always happens to us.”
Allison: “Your cars always coast through parking lots?”
Well, maybe not shit EXACTLY like that.
Searching for telepathic brakes,
Still Standing Right Here…