The Odyssey, Part Two

So at one point, this kid and his brother talk to their very-young-looking mom about beverages, and I knew that this was the golden opportunity to get back in my rightful spot. They dissipated. I moved in. Upon his return, I heard him telling his friend that I! stole! his! spot. I was like, "Sorry, kid, but that's your problem." It was a good spot. My version of concert etiquette is to be passively rude and terrible, because I can't be rude and terrible anywhere else. I mean, you can't be waiting in a line to get churros and then elbow someone in the face. That's not the way things are.

I didn't relent the spot, though somehow he did manage to stand in between me and his sweaty friend, and at that point I was just trying to dance kind of close to him so he'd give me some fucking space.

Doomtree finished, the lights went up, and everyone somehow knew that up next came Flobots. Which was super awesome. Flobots were rad. Did you know that the vocalist on Handlebars is the white guy, Johnny 5? I didn't. Everyone I've talked to knew. So, now, I sound racist for thinking it was the black guy, Brer Rabbit. (For real.) But anyway, dear God was it good, and after Handlebars, I wanted to leave. I said to my mom, "There's no way this can get any better." But she made us stay for the last song.

Then, we walked out to the parking lot, and all the cars were gone. A tow truck was parked and pulling up an old Porsche. A bald guy was standing there talking to the driver, a man was getting into his Porsche, a lesbian and her friend were arriving at the same time as us.

This situation soon escalated into a mob of shit. My mom and I were just thirsty. We seriously did not care, we just wanted something to fucking drink. Calls were frantically made as the tow driver suddenly didn't speak English and drove off, claiming not to know where the cars were being taken. The bald guy was arguing that the whole thing seemed shady, the lesbian was saying that if only we were in Murray city, she would have this taken care of, and all the people arriving were a mess, one girl shouting that she had to leave for eleven days and she couldn't keep her car in an impound to collect fines. All the numbers provided to find our cars led nowhere. Of course, my phone was out of minutes (fucking Virgin Mobile.) and Virgin was telling me to connect to a "live advisor" and everyone was so angry.

The police came, but to follow up on some fight that apparently happened, and the group of people besides my mom and I swamped over to complain that all this shit that was going down was SO NOT COOL.

Miraculously, we found out where the impound lot was, two blocks down from the Avalon. The police said they would meet us there, and we all began our pilgrimage to the lot. Our feet tired, our throats parched, clutching what little possessions we hadn't left in our cars, we walked. When we'd reached the lot, the tow driver was there and everyone let fly with the curse words. Somehow it became negotiated that he would let us get our personal belongings from our cars, and then we'd have one hour to get $254 dollars, cash, to pay him. Oh yes.

To make a long Homeric story short, we got the money by the grace of God (and with a lot of help from Matt) and we were out of the impound lot by 12:35. Really. We got to the Avalon at six-thirty, and left six hours later.

But it was so fucking worth it.