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Showing results for tags 'smash 'em lad'.
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Two nights ago, the universe gave me a big old fashioned humbling. And I liked it. Story starts Friday evening. Im a freelancer and work in film. Got a last minute call for a great music video gig starting 8.30 Saturday morning, so I probably should have stayed in. But I just started dating this girl, J, and we had made plans to go clubbing. Im on top of the world, I thought. Ill just do both. Her plan was to meet up at a far too exclusive NY nightclub at midnight. I show up a half hour late and pretty drunk, only to find that J is already inside with her friends. Ok, wait on line. It's a long line, 10 minutes pass. Of course the bouncers are all dickwads but they tell me to call her up and maybe she can come down and get them to let me in. When J gets downstairs the bouncers tell me to go to the back of the line. Arguments are futile. Repeat. Theyre clearly just fucking with me, Ive got no chance of getting in. J stays in the club with her friends. A bit shitty of her. I had brought along a flask of whiskey, and it was really cold. So by my third time in line I was completely wasted. My last memory, Im lying in the gutter giving the finger to everyone waiting on line. Theyre all laughing at my drunk ass. Next thing I remember Im lying on my face at the bottom of the subway stairs with blood in my mouth. Did a full on faceplant, smashed my lip, chipped both front teeth. I wake up in my own bed at 9 am to a phonecall. The job. "Where are you, we started at 8.30?" Shit, I must have turned off my alarm while drunk. Stagger onto my bike, promising to be there in 15 minutes (its only a couple miles away). Two blocks out I smash into a parked car, bending my handlebar and knocking out the taillight. Fuck, Im still drunk. Couldn't deal with it, kept going. 20 minutes of furious pedaling later and I grow suspicious... this area does not look like it could contain a 10-story building, which is where the video is being shot. I check my phone, I had typed in a loose address and it sent me in the wrong direction. I type it in a different way and change course. 5 miles later to my horror I realize that Im pretty close to Coney Island, ie even further in the wrong direction. It's Jay Street, not Avenue J. Fuuuuuuck. So I show up 2 hours late to the job with a smashed face, exhausted, having biked about 15 miles to get there. And I never felt so good being humbled. Put me right in my place. I was strangely at peace all day and perversely this attitude worked wonders at work. Enjoyed the gig immensely and made a good impression despite everything. Now that was way too long, I know. Hope to gain some insight from your own stories.
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- man versus tarmac
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