The Parking Garage

Alright, so I'm in NYC for my friend Becky's birthday. Great dinner at Matador, fun time at Sway, and its about 2:00am in Tribeca when I decide to trek it back to the car. So my buddy Matt joins me, because i promise to drop him off at our friend Laurie's place in Murray Hill...(yes, Murray Hill, not Gramercy, Laurie).

We end up grabbing a cab after walking downtown instead of uptown and get to the garage. So this is where it gets interesting. Matt is obviously intoxicated and rings the bell at the garage (33rd and Lex), while cursing of course. The attendant makes it over at his own leisurely pace and takes my $25 (not bad for almost 8 hours of parking). He brings my car out of its space, drives it no more than literally 10 feet and gets out. Me, not thinking because its now 2:30am and i'm exhausted, I get in the car and shut the door. Matt's still walking in and he hears the guy mutter in Spanish some curses and then calls me a "fah-got" (pronounce like Penelope Cruz in Blow). Very funny stuff. Matt of course curses him out and we make the getaway.

So this one goes out to you Mr. Could Have Gotten a Tip if he Didn't Curse at Me. You suck! I drove away in my '96 Maaaaazda and you rubbed one out listening to Los Lobos!