the best and the worst, part 5c [yes, it's really happening]
February 19th marks exactly one year since a certain Snow Patrol gig, a.k.a. one of the THE most memorable night of my life. You know, the night that I still haven't finished telling all of you about. My not finishing is in part the result of telling so many people the story, leading to a loss of its omgmusttelleveryone-ness. But the thing is, while sineala, ryca, and simplelyric know the full story, I know I've left an additional hundred-odd people hanging and the resulting guilt has also impeded my completion of the story in a paradoxical way.
Well, not anymore. I vow that I will finish telling you all what happened before 2am on the 20th (a date/time that will mark exactly a year after all the major drama started). And I'm gonna start right now.
Since I haven't posted a part of the tale since (omg) April, I'm going to include the all previous parts under the following cut tag in order to let you all refresh your minds before heading on to the latest section.
The best and the worst, part 1
What happened Thursday night is a rather long story, so I'll be posting several entries about it. Just a short one now since I need to get to bed.
My mother was very anxious about me going to see Snow Patrol alone. San Francisco is an hour and forty minutes drive from my house and this was my first time going alone to both a concert and the city. That I'm an attractive girl (yeah, I'm completely beyond modesty at this point) had a great deal to do with her worry. An attractive woman by herself in a club in a big city late at night -- not always the safest thing, I know. But I assured her that I would be fine, that I would be alert and not stupid.
I arrived and parked my car approximately 30 minutes to 10pm, which was when the doors were set to open. 330 Ritch is off 3rd and Townshed and it is really more of an alley than a street. Still it was situated in not that bad of a location (unlike, say, the Warfield which has the notoriety of being the best venue in SF in the worst place). When I drove by, there wasn't a line yet so I waited in my car until a couple of minutes before 10. A line had begun to form in front of the club by then, and I took my place behind two guys who had gotten there just a moment before.
What happened next seemed minor at that time, but in retrospect, it was the beginning of something that made this gig into the best I have ever attended. That had very little to do with Snow Patrol's absolutely superb performance and everything in the world to do with the two Northern Irish guys in front of me -- two amazing, hysterical, beyond charming individuals that I met (not) by chance that would later go on to blow me away with their act of pure, sincere kindness.
The best and the worst, part 2 (still with only the best)
Where was I? Oh yeah -- standing in line in front of the club. Okay, so I was standing out there, waiting to get in, minding my own business when one of the guys in front of me said, "Is the album out here yet?" Not noticing his accent at all, I said, no, it's not out in the US until the end of March. The other guy asked me how I got my t-shirt (I was wearing my navy blue Snow Patrol t-shirt that features the boy and girl bundled up in snow gear motif that graces the cover of Final Straw), and I told him that I had gotten it off of their official website. Somewhere between discussing just how I have heard of Snow Patrol and if owned Final Straw even though it's not yet available in the US, I noticed that they both had Irish accents. It was kinda surprising and yet not. Snow Patrol's core members are from Belfast after all, and this show was in SF, so the likelihood of 'native' fans being in the city at the time of SP's performance wasn't all that surprising. That I had the fortune of standing right next to them, however, was.
We chatted a little more as the line started to move and naturally separated upon entering. I went over to lean against one of the walls, and a couple minutes later, one of the guys -- who I would soon learn was named Iain -- came over to me to ask if I would like something to drink and if I wanted to sit with them. I said that, honestly, all I wanted was some water and that, sure, I'd love to sit with them. He told me where they were sitting and then went up to the bar to get our drinks.
After a short trip to the restroom, I made my way over their table where they both were already sitting with their beers. They introduced themselves as Iain and Archie and less than 5 minutes into our conversation I was completely enthralled and laughing nonstop. To put it in terms that 95% of my friends list will understand -- I was sitting with the Northern Irish equivalent of Dom and Billy. No joke. I'm being dead serious here, guys. They were that funny and charming. They bounced off each other perfectly. I wasn't shocked in the slightest to find out that they had been friends their entire lives. It showed.
The best and the worst, part 3
Snow Patrol didn't come on until about 11pm, so I got to learn quite a lot about Iain and Archie before then. We did the basic get-to-know-each-other thing. They are both originally from Belfast, but for University, Archie left to go to England while Iain remained in Northern Ireland. A little over a year go, Iain went to visit Archie in Newcastle and has been there ever since. Iain's 28 and Archie's 29. They're both doctors. They were in the Bay Area on holiday visiting Archie's brother and his brother's fiancée in San Jose and friends they have in Santa Cruz. They were flying back to England the following afternoon. They were impressed to find out that I had driven up from Watsonville to see the band (and they actually knew where I was talking about when I mentioned it). We talked about American politics, American TV, America and Americans in general. We talked about the Bay Area; they love it here, especially Santa Cruz. I mentioned that I was traveling to England and Scotland in June, and they offered to put me and whoever I was with up at their place if we chose to visit Newcastle. They talked a lot about Belfast (as Iain put it, "It's really not that bad [regarding the IRA]. Actually, it's rather boring, which is probably the reason not to go there.") and the Irish in general.
(Aside: I was getting an extreme kick out of how some people sitting around us would give Iain and Archie double takes when they spoke. The sound system was loud -- and may I just say how fucking awesome it is to hear The Stone Roses blasted at maximum volume at a club? -- but not so loud that people near us couldn't hear their accents. I think some of them thought they might be part of the band.)
We talked a lot about music, of course. They kept recommending Franz Ferdinand and telling me that must see them perform next month (they're playing Slims in SF on March 20th). Air, Super Furry Animals, Grandaddy (with whom Iain and Archie had seen Snow Patrol perform in Newcastle and who I hope to see in Santa Cruz March 1st), Jane's Addiction, The Kills, The Killers, The Frames, The White Stripes (who I was chastised for not liking -- though, only mildly), The Von Bondies, Pulp, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Rapture, The Pixies, Placebo, Joy Division, Hot Hot Heat, the Chili Peppers, Nine Inch Nails (I made the mistake of calling The Fragile a 'crap album' and Iain would not let the issue go -- we did agree, however, that the Broken EP was the best work NIN ever did), The Stills, Jet, Sleepy Jackson, and The Flaming Lips were all mentioned, and I know there's a lot I'm missing (later, gushing over the brilliance of the Reindeer Section lineup -- Snow Patrol! Belle & Sebastian! Teenage Fanclub! Idlewild! The Vaselines! Mogwai! Arab Strap! Mull Historical Society! -- would take place). Oh, I was chastised later in the evening for not liking Interpol because I'd rather listen to Joy Division. Iain simply went, "Joy Division no longer exists. Ian Curtis is dead. Interpol, however, still exists. And the singer is good looking, so hey, maybe that'll help a little."
God, it sucks that I can't show video footage of the evening. It's very hard to describe how free flowing the conversation was and how hysterical they both were during it. Any way I try to write it just doesn't do them justice. Again, think of a Northern Irish equivalent of Dom and Billy.
In the midst of our conversation, Snow Patrol was actually mingling with the crowd, but I wasn't that interested. Yeah, I was obviously quite taken.
(up next: Snow Patrol's performance, post-show goodness, post-post-show badness, and post-post-show post-badness greatness)
The best and the worst, part 4 (finally with a bit of both)
And now -- the show itself.
Snow Patrol was awesome. At the beginning of their set, Gary Lightbody -- singer and author of brilliant lyrics -- cleared up the misconception that they were a Scottish band (330 Ritch was erroneously promoting them as such) by simply stating, "Actually, we're Irish" (and I further clarified to the confused girl next to me that while they're part of the Glasgow music scene, the core of the band is from Belfast). The setlist contained mostly songs from Final Straw, which neither surprised nor disappointed me, but they did perform "One Night Is Not Enough," my favorite off of When It's All Over We Still Have To Clear Up.
It's a small world after all: After Snow Patrol's set, Iain ran into a girl he used to know in two years ago in Belfast. She's American and from SF, but was writing about music for local Belfast newspapers at the time. Her name is Autumn (Iain spent two whole hours thinking her name was Summer -- well, he was only a season off). She's fucking crazy. But in a good way. Uh, kinda.
So, yeah, after the set, Iain, Archie, and I talked a lot more and were later joined by Autumn, and hey, I met Gary Lightbody. Iain left Archie and I to go smooze with the band (he'd met them before and had told me earlier that Gary was a very cool guy), and then he introduced Gary to Archie and I. He mostly introduced Gary to me, actually. Did a whole "And this is Giuliana, a fan from the Santa Cruz area, who drove up to see you guys and bought your album back when it was first released" thing. Gary asked me how I liked the show, and thanked me for coming and buying the t-shirt, the album. We talked a little bit more. He's a very laid back, down to earth guy; it was very cool to meet him. And, once again, I didn't get an autograph. I was thinking about it, but I didn't really feel a need to. So Adam Busch and Eric Kufs remain the only people I've ever personally gotten autographs from, despite also having met Ani Difranco and Amber Benson (and now Gary Lightbody) and owning quite a few autographs by those I've never actually met (e.g. George Harrison, Robert De Niro, Billy Boyd, Dominic Monaghan, Adam Pascal, Paul Gross, Dean Winters, Christopher Meloni, Mike Patton, Kevin Smith...).
The club was set to close at 2am, so at fifteen minutes till, Archie said that we -- him, Iain, Autumn, and I -- all had to dance (I had turned Iain down about 5 minutes before for some unknown reason ::hits self::), no matter what the song was. So we made our way to the middle of the dance floor after "Bigmouth Strikes Again" finished (Iain didn't feel dancing to The Smiths was appropriate no matter what the case, and we all agreed) and, well, danced. God, it had be been so long -- too long -- since I'd truly danced. I probably hadn't since KMFDM's Sturm & Drang tour in 2002. So pathetic. Anyway, we danced up until the final song of the evening, which -- to everyone's pleasure -- was The Darkness. Ah.
So with the evening officially coming to an end, Iain and I exchanged emails and phone numbers, promising to keep in touch and that I'll definitely be coming to visit them in Newcastle when I'm in the UK. We started walking down the alley to get on the main street, and I was still high with a "great show, fan-fucking-tastic people" air around me when -- what the fuck? You know, those bars blocking the entrance to that parking garage? Those weren't there when I parked my car --
Inside.
(up next: every mother's worst nightmare)
The best and the worst, part 5a
We're approaching the 'Do not try this at home' portion of the tale, kiddies.
So, the last thing I was expecting to see as we made our way from the club was the big parking garage where I had parked my car to be locked up. It didn't even occur to me that it wouldn't be open 24-hours since it's all automated and you don't pay a person when you leave, but instead a machine. Turns out it actually closes at midnight. At this point I'm mildly panicking, but not too much since I -- thank God -- wasn't alone. Iain, Archie, and Autumn were there. Iain and I went over to the little intercom thing, and I paged security while he walked away (on the usually wise thought that a girl would have a better chance at getting results than a guy). Security answered and I told him that my car was still parked in the garage. He replied, "The garage opens at 6am." I asked him what I'm supposed to do, then. He told me again that the garage opens at 6am and that I'm fucked.
Okay, he didn't say that last bit, but that doesn't make it any less true. I was fucked. I mean, there I was, stranded almost 2 hours from home in the middle of the night, with no immediate means of transportation and $40 cash and near maxed-out credit card in my pocket. Getting a cab home was quickly veto'd -- it would've been ungodly expensive and I would have to get back up to San Francisco the next to get my car. Getting a hotel room was another option, though just as costly.
It was just about then that Iain said I could stay in their room.
The best and the worst, part 5b
I'm not as naive as I sometimes come across as being. I'm very trusting, but I'm not the kind of girl who gets herself into bad situations because of it. I have common sense. I also have rather good instincts that have yet to fail me. So when Iain offered to let me stay in their hotel room, I automatically went with my instincts.
Meaning that I accepted. With like, no reservation whatsoever.
Children, do as I say and not as I do. Accepting an invitation to stay the night in a hotel room with two guys you didn't even know existed five hours ago is not a smart thing. It's a very, very stupid thing, actually. It's the kind of thing that may lead to you being found cuffed to the bed, with a rag in your mouth and a bullet in your head (as, you know, Nick Cave warns about during "The Kindness of Strangers"). It's completely a 'do not try this at home or risk rape and/or death' kind of thing. Just, no. Don't do it. It's bad.
(...but?)
But, like I said, my instincts have never let me down. I'm extremely observant, something that leads to me being particularly good at judging people, even after only knowing them for a short time. Both Iain and Archie would have had to be giving me Oscar-worthy performances all evening for my instincts to be wrong about them. Because, see, my instincts weren't just telling me that it was okay to accept -- they were telling me that I couldn't be in better hands.
And I know just how lucky I am that my instincts did not decide to fuck me over that night.
(up next: the phone call home)
The best and the worst, part 5c
Now, just imagine calling up your mother -- who was worried about you going by yourself to the show in the first place -- and telling her what has happened and what you were about to do. Just imagine yourself as your mother during that situation.
I didn't have to tell her the truth. I could've just called and said that my car was locked up, but that I would be getting a hotel room for the night and getting my car out tomorrow, not at all mentioning who I was with. But I don't like to lie to my parents, especially not outright. Moreover, like I told Iain, Archie, and Autumn, I thought that her knowing that I was with people would perhaps be a little less stress-inducing than her thinking I was alone in downtown San Francisco in the middle of the night.
We walked for what seemed like forever (especially since the waters Iain and Archie had bought me while we were in the club were starting to catch up with me) before finally finding a pay phone up on Market (aside: it's amazing how empty SF is at 2:30am). Iain had handed me his phone card and a piece of paper with the number to their room when we had started our trek up to the hotel and I used it to call home.
My mom picked up almost immediately. I knew she'd still be up waiting for my call to tell her I was on my way back. The guilt started to really fester about then.
Our conversation went something like this:
"Hi, mom. It's me."
"Julie, where are you?"
"Still in San Francisco. The garage with my car is locked up, and I can't get my car out until the morning."
"Are you alone?"
"No, I'm with two guys from Northern Ireland and a girl that I met earlier this night. They've offered to let me stay in their hotel room." [note that I implied that the girl was part of the equation when it came to the hotel room, which was, of course, not true]
"Julie, do you feel comfortable about these people?"
"Yeah, I really do. Trust me, okay? You know I wouldn't do this if I had a bad feeling about it, right?"
She agreed (hesitantly) and before we hung up, I gave her more info about which hotel they were staying at and the number. At the tail end of our conversation, Autumn was finally able to hail a taxi (I believe she lived in Berkeley). Iain, Archie, and I said our goodbyes to her and then continued on our way to the hotel.
(to be concluded -- for real this time)
Well, not anymore. I vow that I will finish telling you all what happened before 2am on the 20th (a date/time that will mark exactly a year after all the major drama started). And I'm gonna start right now.
Since I haven't posted a part of the tale since (omg) April, I'm going to include the all previous parts under the following cut tag in order to let you all refresh your minds before heading on to the latest section.
The best and the worst, part 1
What happened Thursday night is a rather long story, so I'll be posting several entries about it. Just a short one now since I need to get to bed.
My mother was very anxious about me going to see Snow Patrol alone. San Francisco is an hour and forty minutes drive from my house and this was my first time going alone to both a concert and the city. That I'm an attractive girl (yeah, I'm completely beyond modesty at this point) had a great deal to do with her worry. An attractive woman by herself in a club in a big city late at night -- not always the safest thing, I know. But I assured her that I would be fine, that I would be alert and not stupid.
I arrived and parked my car approximately 30 minutes to 10pm, which was when the doors were set to open. 330 Ritch is off 3rd and Townshed and it is really more of an alley than a street. Still it was situated in not that bad of a location (unlike, say, the Warfield which has the notoriety of being the best venue in SF in the worst place). When I drove by, there wasn't a line yet so I waited in my car until a couple of minutes before 10. A line had begun to form in front of the club by then, and I took my place behind two guys who had gotten there just a moment before.
What happened next seemed minor at that time, but in retrospect, it was the beginning of something that made this gig into the best I have ever attended. That had very little to do with Snow Patrol's absolutely superb performance and everything in the world to do with the two Northern Irish guys in front of me -- two amazing, hysterical, beyond charming individuals that I met (not) by chance that would later go on to blow me away with their act of pure, sincere kindness.
The best and the worst, part 2 (still with only the best)
Where was I? Oh yeah -- standing in line in front of the club. Okay, so I was standing out there, waiting to get in, minding my own business when one of the guys in front of me said, "Is the album out here yet?" Not noticing his accent at all, I said, no, it's not out in the US until the end of March. The other guy asked me how I got my t-shirt (I was wearing my navy blue Snow Patrol t-shirt that features the boy and girl bundled up in snow gear motif that graces the cover of Final Straw), and I told him that I had gotten it off of their official website. Somewhere between discussing just how I have heard of Snow Patrol and if owned Final Straw even though it's not yet available in the US, I noticed that they both had Irish accents. It was kinda surprising and yet not. Snow Patrol's core members are from Belfast after all, and this show was in SF, so the likelihood of 'native' fans being in the city at the time of SP's performance wasn't all that surprising. That I had the fortune of standing right next to them, however, was.
We chatted a little more as the line started to move and naturally separated upon entering. I went over to lean against one of the walls, and a couple minutes later, one of the guys -- who I would soon learn was named Iain -- came over to me to ask if I would like something to drink and if I wanted to sit with them. I said that, honestly, all I wanted was some water and that, sure, I'd love to sit with them. He told me where they were sitting and then went up to the bar to get our drinks.
After a short trip to the restroom, I made my way over their table where they both were already sitting with their beers. They introduced themselves as Iain and Archie and less than 5 minutes into our conversation I was completely enthralled and laughing nonstop. To put it in terms that 95% of my friends list will understand -- I was sitting with the Northern Irish equivalent of Dom and Billy. No joke. I'm being dead serious here, guys. They were that funny and charming. They bounced off each other perfectly. I wasn't shocked in the slightest to find out that they had been friends their entire lives. It showed.
The best and the worst, part 3
Snow Patrol didn't come on until about 11pm, so I got to learn quite a lot about Iain and Archie before then. We did the basic get-to-know-each-other thing. They are both originally from Belfast, but for University, Archie left to go to England while Iain remained in Northern Ireland. A little over a year go, Iain went to visit Archie in Newcastle and has been there ever since. Iain's 28 and Archie's 29. They're both doctors. They were in the Bay Area on holiday visiting Archie's brother and his brother's fiancée in San Jose and friends they have in Santa Cruz. They were flying back to England the following afternoon. They were impressed to find out that I had driven up from Watsonville to see the band (and they actually knew where I was talking about when I mentioned it). We talked about American politics, American TV, America and Americans in general. We talked about the Bay Area; they love it here, especially Santa Cruz. I mentioned that I was traveling to England and Scotland in June, and they offered to put me and whoever I was with up at their place if we chose to visit Newcastle. They talked a lot about Belfast (as Iain put it, "It's really not that bad [regarding the IRA]. Actually, it's rather boring, which is probably the reason not to go there.") and the Irish in general.
(Aside: I was getting an extreme kick out of how some people sitting around us would give Iain and Archie double takes when they spoke. The sound system was loud -- and may I just say how fucking awesome it is to hear The Stone Roses blasted at maximum volume at a club? -- but not so loud that people near us couldn't hear their accents. I think some of them thought they might be part of the band.)
We talked a lot about music, of course. They kept recommending Franz Ferdinand and telling me that must see them perform next month (they're playing Slims in SF on March 20th). Air, Super Furry Animals, Grandaddy (with whom Iain and Archie had seen Snow Patrol perform in Newcastle and who I hope to see in Santa Cruz March 1st), Jane's Addiction, The Kills, The Killers, The Frames, The White Stripes (who I was chastised for not liking -- though, only mildly), The Von Bondies, Pulp, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Rapture, The Pixies, Placebo, Joy Division, Hot Hot Heat, the Chili Peppers, Nine Inch Nails (I made the mistake of calling The Fragile a 'crap album' and Iain would not let the issue go -- we did agree, however, that the Broken EP was the best work NIN ever did), The Stills, Jet, Sleepy Jackson, and The Flaming Lips were all mentioned, and I know there's a lot I'm missing (later, gushing over the brilliance of the Reindeer Section lineup -- Snow Patrol! Belle & Sebastian! Teenage Fanclub! Idlewild! The Vaselines! Mogwai! Arab Strap! Mull Historical Society! -- would take place). Oh, I was chastised later in the evening for not liking Interpol because I'd rather listen to Joy Division. Iain simply went, "Joy Division no longer exists. Ian Curtis is dead. Interpol, however, still exists. And the singer is good looking, so hey, maybe that'll help a little."
God, it sucks that I can't show video footage of the evening. It's very hard to describe how free flowing the conversation was and how hysterical they both were during it. Any way I try to write it just doesn't do them justice. Again, think of a Northern Irish equivalent of Dom and Billy.
In the midst of our conversation, Snow Patrol was actually mingling with the crowd, but I wasn't that interested. Yeah, I was obviously quite taken.
(up next: Snow Patrol's performance, post-show goodness, post-post-show badness, and post-post-show post-badness greatness)
The best and the worst, part 4 (finally with a bit of both)
And now -- the show itself.
Snow Patrol was awesome. At the beginning of their set, Gary Lightbody -- singer and author of brilliant lyrics -- cleared up the misconception that they were a Scottish band (330 Ritch was erroneously promoting them as such) by simply stating, "Actually, we're Irish" (and I further clarified to the confused girl next to me that while they're part of the Glasgow music scene, the core of the band is from Belfast). The setlist contained mostly songs from Final Straw, which neither surprised nor disappointed me, but they did perform "One Night Is Not Enough," my favorite off of When It's All Over We Still Have To Clear Up.
It's a small world after all: After Snow Patrol's set, Iain ran into a girl he used to know in two years ago in Belfast. She's American and from SF, but was writing about music for local Belfast newspapers at the time. Her name is Autumn (Iain spent two whole hours thinking her name was Summer -- well, he was only a season off). She's fucking crazy. But in a good way. Uh, kinda.
So, yeah, after the set, Iain, Archie, and I talked a lot more and were later joined by Autumn, and hey, I met Gary Lightbody. Iain left Archie and I to go smooze with the band (he'd met them before and had told me earlier that Gary was a very cool guy), and then he introduced Gary to Archie and I. He mostly introduced Gary to me, actually. Did a whole "And this is Giuliana, a fan from the Santa Cruz area, who drove up to see you guys and bought your album back when it was first released" thing. Gary asked me how I liked the show, and thanked me for coming and buying the t-shirt, the album. We talked a little bit more. He's a very laid back, down to earth guy; it was very cool to meet him. And, once again, I didn't get an autograph. I was thinking about it, but I didn't really feel a need to. So Adam Busch and Eric Kufs remain the only people I've ever personally gotten autographs from, despite also having met Ani Difranco and Amber Benson (and now Gary Lightbody) and owning quite a few autographs by those I've never actually met (e.g. George Harrison, Robert De Niro, Billy Boyd, Dominic Monaghan, Adam Pascal, Paul Gross, Dean Winters, Christopher Meloni, Mike Patton, Kevin Smith...).
The club was set to close at 2am, so at fifteen minutes till, Archie said that we -- him, Iain, Autumn, and I -- all had to dance (I had turned Iain down about 5 minutes before for some unknown reason ::hits self::), no matter what the song was. So we made our way to the middle of the dance floor after "Bigmouth Strikes Again" finished (Iain didn't feel dancing to The Smiths was appropriate no matter what the case, and we all agreed) and, well, danced. God, it had be been so long -- too long -- since I'd truly danced. I probably hadn't since KMFDM's Sturm & Drang tour in 2002. So pathetic. Anyway, we danced up until the final song of the evening, which -- to everyone's pleasure -- was The Darkness. Ah.
So with the evening officially coming to an end, Iain and I exchanged emails and phone numbers, promising to keep in touch and that I'll definitely be coming to visit them in Newcastle when I'm in the UK. We started walking down the alley to get on the main street, and I was still high with a "great show, fan-fucking-tastic people" air around me when -- what the fuck? You know, those bars blocking the entrance to that parking garage? Those weren't there when I parked my car --
Inside.
(up next: every mother's worst nightmare)
The best and the worst, part 5a
We're approaching the 'Do not try this at home' portion of the tale, kiddies.
So, the last thing I was expecting to see as we made our way from the club was the big parking garage where I had parked my car to be locked up. It didn't even occur to me that it wouldn't be open 24-hours since it's all automated and you don't pay a person when you leave, but instead a machine. Turns out it actually closes at midnight. At this point I'm mildly panicking, but not too much since I -- thank God -- wasn't alone. Iain, Archie, and Autumn were there. Iain and I went over to the little intercom thing, and I paged security while he walked away (on the usually wise thought that a girl would have a better chance at getting results than a guy). Security answered and I told him that my car was still parked in the garage. He replied, "The garage opens at 6am." I asked him what I'm supposed to do, then. He told me again that the garage opens at 6am and that I'm fucked.
Okay, he didn't say that last bit, but that doesn't make it any less true. I was fucked. I mean, there I was, stranded almost 2 hours from home in the middle of the night, with no immediate means of transportation and $40 cash and near maxed-out credit card in my pocket. Getting a cab home was quickly veto'd -- it would've been ungodly expensive and I would have to get back up to San Francisco the next to get my car. Getting a hotel room was another option, though just as costly.
It was just about then that Iain said I could stay in their room.
The best and the worst, part 5b
I'm not as naive as I sometimes come across as being. I'm very trusting, but I'm not the kind of girl who gets herself into bad situations because of it. I have common sense. I also have rather good instincts that have yet to fail me. So when Iain offered to let me stay in their hotel room, I automatically went with my instincts.
Meaning that I accepted. With like, no reservation whatsoever.
Children, do as I say and not as I do. Accepting an invitation to stay the night in a hotel room with two guys you didn't even know existed five hours ago is not a smart thing. It's a very, very stupid thing, actually. It's the kind of thing that may lead to you being found cuffed to the bed, with a rag in your mouth and a bullet in your head (as, you know, Nick Cave warns about during "The Kindness of Strangers"). It's completely a 'do not try this at home or risk rape and/or death' kind of thing. Just, no. Don't do it. It's bad.
(...but?)
But, like I said, my instincts have never let me down. I'm extremely observant, something that leads to me being particularly good at judging people, even after only knowing them for a short time. Both Iain and Archie would have had to be giving me Oscar-worthy performances all evening for my instincts to be wrong about them. Because, see, my instincts weren't just telling me that it was okay to accept -- they were telling me that I couldn't be in better hands.
And I know just how lucky I am that my instincts did not decide to fuck me over that night.
(up next: the phone call home)
The best and the worst, part 5c
Now, just imagine calling up your mother -- who was worried about you going by yourself to the show in the first place -- and telling her what has happened and what you were about to do. Just imagine yourself as your mother during that situation.
I didn't have to tell her the truth. I could've just called and said that my car was locked up, but that I would be getting a hotel room for the night and getting my car out tomorrow, not at all mentioning who I was with. But I don't like to lie to my parents, especially not outright. Moreover, like I told Iain, Archie, and Autumn, I thought that her knowing that I was with people would perhaps be a little less stress-inducing than her thinking I was alone in downtown San Francisco in the middle of the night.
We walked for what seemed like forever (especially since the waters Iain and Archie had bought me while we were in the club were starting to catch up with me) before finally finding a pay phone up on Market (aside: it's amazing how empty SF is at 2:30am). Iain had handed me his phone card and a piece of paper with the number to their room when we had started our trek up to the hotel and I used it to call home.
My mom picked up almost immediately. I knew she'd still be up waiting for my call to tell her I was on my way back. The guilt started to really fester about then.
Our conversation went something like this:
"Hi, mom. It's me."
"Julie, where are you?"
"Still in San Francisco. The garage with my car is locked up, and I can't get my car out until the morning."
"Are you alone?"
"No, I'm with two guys from Northern Ireland and a girl that I met earlier this night. They've offered to let me stay in their hotel room." [note that I implied that the girl was part of the equation when it came to the hotel room, which was, of course, not true]
"Julie, do you feel comfortable about these people?"
"Yeah, I really do. Trust me, okay? You know I wouldn't do this if I had a bad feeling about it, right?"
She agreed (hesitantly) and before we hung up, I gave her more info about which hotel they were staying at and the number. At the tail end of our conversation, Autumn was finally able to hail a taxi (I believe she lived in Berkeley). Iain, Archie, and I said our goodbyes to her and then continued on our way to the hotel.
(to be concluded -- for real this time)