And the Tenth One is Free

Many look at closing time as the end of a fantastic night out, while others see it as an open door to a new adventure, but this night…I'm tired. In fact, I was ready to head home and go night-night, and I thought my faithful partner in crime felt the same way.

Kyle and I had spent an unusually cold Friday night at a serious biker bar; hanging out with the local riff-raff, talking to the band and taking full advantage of the bar’s liberal pricing policy. They had $1.80 pitchers of beer. So after every pitcher we bought, we would line up the two dimes from our change on the counter top and, hey, the tenth pitcher was free.

Anyway, we’re hanging outside the bar after closing time, freezing our asses off. I’m shooting the shit with the band and Kyle’s talking to some girl he just met as she was walking out the door. The guys in the band take off as I walk over to Kyle and Ms. Rightnow, and ask Kyle if he’s ready to go. He asks me to give him a couple of minutes, he’ll join me in the car and hands me his keys. I happily take them and head across the parking lot to Kyle’s trusty Escort. I hop in the passenger seat, start the car, crank up the heat and ease the seat back.

Tap, tap, tap…tap, tap, tap. What the hell is that? I open my eyes, and it’s just getting light outside. Holy shit, it’s morning, and there’s a cop tapping on the driver’s side window with his flashlight! I sit straight up like a shot and notice I’m in the only car sitting in the middle of this huge, empty parking lot. It’s like I’m on a raft in the middle of the ocean. I reach over, fumble-bum with the handle to the window because my head is roaring from our ‘free’ tenth pitcher and crank the window down a few inches. “Hey buddy, I appreciate the fact that you’re trying to sleep it off before you drive home” the officer begins, “but you need to turn the engine off because the fumes could collect inside the car and kill you.”

I somehow manage to blurt out, “Thank you, officer, I appreciate it” and turn the engine off. He leaves, and I lay back in the seat. I couldn’t believe it. Kyle left me there! He went home with some ho-bag he met thirty seconds ago and then left me sleeping in his car in the middle of the fucking parking lot!

I get out of the car, walk around and get into the driver’s seat. My head is humming like a giant tuning fork as I start the car. The gas gauge is below empty. Why? Because the car has been idling in the parking lot for the last four fucking hours. And to top it off, I have a whole quarter in my pocket.

I start driving home and pray there is a gas station open, and on the direct path I have to take home. Thank God I find a Clark station and get, that’s right, a whole quarter worth of gas. I have to pay first and the old guy in the gas station looks at me like, “Are you kidding me?” But by some miracle, I make it home and leave Kyle’s car parked in front of my house.

Later that day, Ms. Rightnow drops Kyle off at his car and leaves as soon as he slams her car door shut. I happen to hear her car pull up and walk outside just as she is leaving. Kyle waves to me, hops in, starts his car, puts it in drive and gets about three feet when the engine dies. “Hey, I’m out of gas!” he yells to me. “Sorry about your luck, stud!” as I wave and turn to go back in the house. Justice has been served.