(Jeff started this act of kindness and I've started to bite his style). First I called Soda Bar, which is near Ashley and Jeff's apartment in Prospect Heights. I explained what I wanted to do, and the bartender said they need me to be present to run my card. So I phrased it differently: Just run my card right now, I'll provide my three-digit code, and hold the $20 on it. That way the transaction is already settled. Yada yada. He rudely responded "You are not listening to what I'm saying. You must be present". He was a total cheesedick. I said, "You are incredibly rude for someone who works in the service industry. Thank you". Click. (Of course my heart was racing but he was such an asshole I had to call him out on it.) I got off the phone, bristling. I felt defeated, and uninspired to try another bar. Hours later, once I'd cooled down, I called Union Hall, and the waitress was rude but slightly more helpful. What is it with these New Yorkers?
After work, two of my friends and I set out on a long bike ride to West Seattle. Our 24 mile-ride was cut short when Julie's tire blew out. A young woman with dyed red hair and a tongue ring pulled over and asked if we needed help. We did. Julie's pump was useless on a gashed tire. Tasha the biker chick was equipped with bike maintenance gear and she'd recently taken a 'How to Fix a Flat' class at Recycled Cycles. She was able and friendly.
She impressed us all as she started using her newfound knowledge. About 5 passing bikers slowed to ask if we were okay.
Some offered their spare tubes. We waved them on. Unfortunately Tasha's patch job didn't work, because there were more holes, and more holes, in Julie's tube. The next biker to come along stopped and helped as well. The warmth and kindness of the bikers restored my faith in humanity. Julie offered to pay a bar tab for each of the roadside assistants, at a bar of their choosing. I wished her better luck with Seattle establishments.
As for each the Soda Jerk, eh, fuck em.
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