Bob has like 100 visors stacked up in his basement "thats like opening up a closet and finding a pile of bodies" But anyways...
That was the figure Bob was staring at.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
After some stellar championship caliber play, Team Awesome won the $70 kickball league championship. Down at the bar the champagne (mich ultras) were flowing and the cigars (nasty cigarettes) were being smoked. The team that waited what seemed like an eternity for all the actual good teams to drop out of the league had finally taken home the Trophy. Well, actually there was no trophy, but for $70 per person, how can you expect a trophy. Double well, double actually, the alleged trophy was in the basement of one of the previously mentioned actual good teams.
The teams gathered around outside as one girl silently announced the winners of the 1,000 question survey aka the end of season awards email. Earlier in the day, she tallied up the votes from the 4 people who actually had 3 hours to vote about teams and players that they knew nothing about. She took some of the funding from the $70 per person x 8 teams x 15 people and purchased some paper plates ($1.29) and some stickers ($2.49). Next, she wrote some words on the plates, stuck on a few stickers, and called them awards. (jk good work)
As most of the teams left early (hopefully to save up for the big end of season bash), Bob continued to down mug after mug and shot after shot. Two weeks ago, I almost wrote an email about Bob being the drunkest I ever saw him, but boy am I glad I waited. After some mumbling and incoherent talk, Bob told me "be rave ka teke kat", which translates roughly to "we have to call a cab". Bob went ahead and ka teke katted, which meant it was time to close out our tabs. And that brings us back to the beginning.
That was the check that sat in front of Bob. As he tried to calculate in his mind if 12 beers 16 shots and 2 appetizers could maybe be only 8 bucks, I decided to do a little detective work. And by detective work I mean that I asked the hot asian bartender if Bob had already closed out a previous tab. My instincts were correct, Bob had already closed out for $GodKnows. I just wonder how many times he closed and reopened his tab. He could have a credit card statement that looks like $52.23 $7.96 $7.96 $7.96 $7.96 $7.96 $7.96 $7.96 $7.96.
After the tab mystery was solved the bartender, knowing that Bob was in no condition to drive (or stand up), asked how he was getting home. He slurrily (not really a word) screamed at her a statement that led her to almost crash to the floor from laughing so hard. "Me and Steve are taking a cab...(50 decibels higher) BUT WE'RE NOT GAY!" My face turned red and I put my head down on the bar, as this was the most embarrassed I had ever been from what is obviously a true statement.
Luckily, to interrupt this horrible moment Bob's phone rang. The cab was here! Or was it..."15 to 20 minutes" the voice on the other line said. WTF they already said that 15-20 minutes ago. We ungayly went out to sit on the curb and wait for the cab, and wait we did. After 15 minutes I told Bob that we should call the cab again to see where it was. He handed me his phone which he had previously thrown as hard as he could into a couch (another story for another time) and told me to call but I couldn't figure out his futuristic touch screen phone.
What I saw when I looked at the screen was somewhat horrifying. Bob had made about 20 calls in the past half hour. Catering White. Catering Red. Catering Sterling. Catering Sterling. Catering Red. and so on...I used my detective skills again to figure out that Catering was his code word for cab (i don't know why ask him). Then it dawned on me that Bob had probably called us 5 different cabs. But after 15 more minutes of waiting it dawned on me that Bob had probably not even called us one cab.
I went inside to have the bartender call us one, but just as I was about to I saw the cab approach through the front door window. Saved!
The cab headed down Elden street, the beginning of a journey that was about 20 minutes and $40. Then, the luckiest thing that could have ever happened to me that night happened. Bob remembered that his garage door opener, the only way into his house, was back in his car at the carpool parking lot. The cab driver U-Turned and for only like 50 cents extra we were back on the road to visor city. Bob spent the journey telling the cab driver the secret to getting women and when we arrived at the house the cab driver gave us his personal cell number because he obviously figured we would call it 6 nights a week.
Inside the house I lay awake all night (in a separate bed and on a separate floor from Bob) staring at the piles upon piles of visors. I could have sworn every time I looked at it there were more. It was like a strange Stephen King novel. At that moment the jar of pickles covered by the underwear from my previous story seemed almost comforting, a vision that helped me fall asleep.
And so I'm at work, waiting to tell them I'm quitting. Unshowered. Soaking wet. Drenched in Right Guard. Armpits burning. Hair that looks like a wig. 15 year old like facial hair. Ready to go for round 2 tonight...