A perfect day

A perfect day isn’t supposed to start with a dead engine and a lost wallet but that’s how shit goes I guess. It started out alright. Until I couldn’t find my last pair of cargo shorts that have somehow survived a whole lot of jokes on the internet and a few girlfriends who didn’t appreciate that I was able to carry all their shit. Maybe they didn’t survive. I still can’t find them.

You need cargo shorts for ACL. I’ve only been once but I know this. Because I went once and I wore cargo shorts. And I had everything I needed, right there in one pocket or another. I averted that crisis with a trip to Kohl’s. And, thirty dollars in Kohl’s cash richer, and wearing cargo shorts loaded with sunscreen, a battery pack in case anyone’s phone died, two packets of electrolytes, 4 joints, a bandana, chapstick, gum, 22 shroom capsules, my phone and my wallet, I headed out to meet my friends Lucas and Greg. I took the van because I’d been at this residency. I take the van to the residency because the first time, I took the Mazda. Huge mistake. The Mazda has the ground clearance of a slug. You have to ride the center ridge to avoid scraping bottom. But then the brush scrapes the sides. Fuck that. The van has great clearance. The van’s been running like a champ. I was thinking I should sell the damn Mazda. Why do I need a car payment when I’ve got the van. The van rules actually. Let’s say I was still tripping a little after the show. I could take a nap in the van. Smart, actually. But mostly I just didn’t want to move the van, pull the Mazda out the driveway, put the van back in the driveway, take the Mazda. Fuck that. I took the van. It’s been running like a champ. I think I mentioned that.

The plan was to walk from their condo to ACL. For Austin natives, Lucas and Greg live near the Whataburger, the one next door to Sandy’s. Easy walk, by ACL standards. Traffic on South 1st was what you’d expect, for an ACL weekend, for any given Sunday, or Tuesday. It’s South 1st. But I was making good time.

Then the van blubbered and died. For Austin natives, this was just before the Texaco at the Oltorf intersection. For the rest of you.. Lemme draw you a diagram. I tried to roll it to the Texaco. I didn’t get that far. Lemme draw you a diagram. BRB.

Okay well that’s the worst fucking diagram ever created. The X in the center is where my van died. I couldn’t get into the right lane where I could’ve maybe rolled into the parking lot of the most sketchy Texaco in South Austin. Definitely didn’t want to keep rolling into the turning lane. So I hit the brakes right there in the suicide lane, right before the turning lane. My hazards were already on.

What happens, I know now, if you die before the turning lane, is the entire population of South Austin will believe that you are in the turn lane and just, I don’t know, hanging out with your hazards on, waiting to turn. They eventually realize you’re not turning. And when they do, they say mean things to you, as they burn rubber past you in the oncoming traffic lane. I witnessed more than a few near head on collisions. It’s a good thing they were only close calls. If they were relying on my ability to draw a diagram for court, they’d be fucked.

I took out my wallet and called triple A, then I texted the gays and told them the news. I’d be a little late. And I might need a ride. And I sat back to wait, and get yelled at on occasion by people who thought I just stopped there to fuck with them. Like I wouldn’t be any goddamn place else if I could.