YEP, FEBRUARY STILL SUCKS

There's this theory that nothing good happens during the month of February. Tonight goes in the column proving that theory.

I was two minutes from DePaul this afternoon when I begin to hear a strange noise. I think to myself, "I hope that's not my car." It clearly was. It didn't sound like my muffler had fallen again (that's already happened twice), and the noise was not immediately obvious. People on the street and in nearby cars didn't seem to hear it and the car behind me wasn't desperately trying to get my attention, so I figured the car wasn't about to explode. When I parked in the student parking lot, I got out and saw that my left rear tire was flat. I've never had a flat tire before, going eight and a half years with that record. Blast!

I haven't changed a flat before, but I do know how. So I went about it, in the weird 12 degree warmth. I say that not sarcastically. It didn't feel very cold. I suppose when you've gotten used to -30 degree windchills over the last week, temps in the low teens sound pretty good. As each minute passed, I was getting more proud of my acheivements. It was all going according to plan.

I replaced the flat with the donut, no problem. I then went to class. Four hours of excrutiating mind fucking later, I am nearly giddy with the idea of going home after this horrible day. I decide to go the relatively short distance to Jeff's apartment just to make sure the donut is alright. It seems ok, but I'm just not going to be comfortable until I'm home. Jeff's not home, so I decide to brave it and make my way to the burbs. From North Ave. onto the Kennedy, I realize something is going terribly terribly wrong. I am losing braking control. I am fishtailing on the on-ramp. People are getting pissed behind me. I put on my emergency lights and get off at the next exit, Division I think. I call my dad and he says to try to pump air in the donut with the air pump I keep in the trunk. It works but it seems fleeting. I wonder if I can get very far in this state. I am nearly screaming my prayer to "just let me get home." But it was not to be.

After my second attempt, I realize things have gotten even worse. The next exit, Ohio, is really fucking long. Too long. I'm even getting short with myself. Like it's my fault. I pull over onto Wells and call my dad again who attempts to track down a local service station. I call Jeff, who is just leaving work. I ask him if he has a spare tire in his Honda, thinking that because it is the same make as my car, it would work out. He generously agrees to meet me once he gets home and can pick up the car. After wasting an hour (or more, probably) of Jeff's time, we figure out his spare is millimeters different than what I need. I decide it's time to bite the bullet and end this shit already.

I call the number my dad gave me. It's a fax number. I laugh to myself. Of course it's a fax number. The way this day was going, it might all be a dream anyway. Jeff waits in his car while I go into a nearby bar to see if they know any towing numbers. They don't. Some drunk patrons try to tell me to go get some $3 magical foam tire fixer spray and that'll do the trick. I ask the bartender for the yellow pages. It all feels very 1985. Who looks at the yellow pages in a city bar? It seems so untechnological as to not be a real thing to do.

The first tow company I call doesn't ever pick up despite their ad yelling "24 HOUR SERVICE." The second company I call picks up but either hangs up when I tell him where I'm at or the call gets dropped. Either way, the three times I called back went straight to voicemail. The third company I called was the charm. He picked me up and drove me all the way to my neighborhood discount tire company. More than a hundo later, I'm sitting in my basement typing this overlong sympathy-inducing post. My feet are still cold and I'm really pissed off.

At least I'm not going to my classes tomorrow, my 9:30 econ class where the douchebag prof. is incredibly rude to me every chance he gets. "Get a watch that works!" I hate that asshole.

Hope everyone reading this had a better night than me, and Jeff too. Thanks buddy. Oh, yeah, that probably sounds weird not coming from Mary. So, thanks pal. I'll work on it. Hahaha.