Friday, Friday

J-Man and I needed an adventure.  The 75 degree day was just calling and calling to us, so we said, yep, let's do it.

After my Friday of conference calls and his half-day reward for job-well-done, he swung by in KingHenryZebra to navigate the terrifying city.

We already know I'm not a city driver, and let's be real, J-Man isn't really either.  But I'll gladly hold the handrail and gasp unnecessarily rather than forge the way in the driver's seat.  With the gas light on we made our way all the way to one-hour parking on R St NW.

But what's on R St NW you ask?

Not what we were looking for.  Because J-Man's K's strongly resemble his R's.

My mungries were setting in, the gas light was giving me heartburn, and after debating the use of toll money for meters, went again with the "screw it" mentality and pulled into a random garage nearby.  It's payday, we can afford a parking garage.  Look at us.  Ballers!

I'm still on a crabcake mission, and while the $3 McCormick and Schmick happy hour burger filled me up deliciously like whoa, the crabcake was merely meh. 

In the aftermath of devouring the burger goodness we wandered to meet up with my friend.  I tried to come up with a clever blogonym for her.  Like VeganM.  Or MayorM.  or Givesthebestcomplimentsever.  But the juices aren't flowing right now, so can we call her M and rename when inspiration hits?  Yes? Good.  Ok.

So M, who does happen to be vegan still despite my total curiosity if recent events would make her more open to the meats/eggs/cheese world, and J-Man, and her coworkers and the sunshine took in another happy hour.  Into the evening still happy hours.  Making fun of Friday and teen pop (which nevertheless has been watched multiple times by J-Man and me and millions of others since then) and dog poop stories to which I could only laugh but not contribute.

In preparation for a Husky win we packed up to head to another location where there were so many people they'd turned pool tables into real tables with folding chairs.  I felt like a rebel with my coca-cola (not diet) on the cover.  I think we ate enough onion rings to feed a small village and enough fries for that village's livestock.  My stomach felt like it might explode, but can you really ever eat too many onion rings and fries?  Don't answer that.

By the time the Huskies pulled it off and J-Man's buddy successfully did not lose the $800+ he'd bet on the game (phew!  and double phew that J-Man had only wagered, well, nothing) it was time to find our car.

Wasn't it on K street?  No, it was near K street.  But surely the address was on the ticket.  No, says J-Man.  Ok.  Well we thought we found it but, nope, that wasn't it.  And besides, that place was locked up.

Which brought J-Man and I to a short but important conversation.

Me - I'm glad our car isn't in a locked garage.

Him - Yeah, though didn't it say it closed at 7?

Me - Did it?  I was so hungry I didn't look

Him - Yeah, that's what I saw.  But I trusted you.  You're usually right

Me - Oh.  Yeah.  No.

Turns out that two blocks later we discovered the address indeed was on the ticket, L street, and that particular garage happened to close 6 hours earlier.

Ha.

For real though.  At 1am we were calling the managers, waiting in the still-pretty-warm weather, and watching a really awkward exchange between a father, a daughter, her drunk friends, and her little brother in the car outside of an oontz, oontz, oontz techno club.

We laughed about our unplanned afternoon.  We remembered the subway party when we first heard MIA's Paper Planes and I didn't notice the gunshots.  I thought about other subway parties and how I hate them but they manage to make me fall more in love with my J-Man every year.  And when our attendant came and shadily opened the garage, helped us pay, and tried to convince us to park there again next weekend, we couldn't have been happier.

I think maybe every Friday night should end with 2008 music, locked up cars, and a window's down ride back to A-town with my JMFG.