That boy ain't right

Because I had an appointment at 8 with a recruiter in the city, I had to get up extra early this morning. However, clearly, the gods don't want me going to work at all, or even venturing out of the house, as the following timeline will indicate:

1. It's 7:45 as I reach the toll plaza of the Bay Bridge. I call the recruiter's office to tell them i'm going to be about 15 min late. I'm not really worried anyway since i'd checked email the night before, and he can't meet with me -- either wanted to reschedule or have me meet with one of his partners.


2. BOTH "check engine" light AND the "engine temp" light come on at once and beep angrily at me, right as I'm in a huge long line of cars in front of the bay bridge toll plaza, stretching all the way back to the rise in the overpass.


3. I think maybe if I can still make the interview and take it to the shop afterwards, I'll be OK, but the car starts steaming from under the hood. Not good. Right on cue, I hear the "you have angered the clown gods" music as my cell goes dead.


4. More steam and concerned looks from drivers next to me. I pull the car over to an island in the middle of the freaking toll plaza. The water is BOILING in the radiator.


5. I wait until it stops boiling in the radiator, and hope that I can at least make it to Treasure Island, where hopefully there's a shop. And hopefully I and the car will survive today. Pop down the hood, start the car, and immediately it starts beeping at me again. I pay the toll -- no return now. It's either have it go dead on the bridge, or make it to Treasure Island. Go for broke time.


6. The car is now leaving a HUGE CLOUD of steam/smoke behind me as I'm nearly weeping from the stress. People are honking at me everywhere. However, I do make it off the bridge and onto Treasure Island -- although I'm leaving a wide plume of smoke behind me down the hill.


7. I manage to park in front of the naval base, and poke my head in a cafe where I ask if there's a car shop somewhere on the island. "No car shop -- there's nothing here on the island." Only one of a series of disappointments for today, lady.


8. So I prevail upon the guard at the base to let me use his phone, where I call AAA.


9. The tow truck driver arrives fairly quickly, where he proceeds to try to sell me hippie crystals -- "ordalite" or some shit.


10. He drops me off at the shop on Van Ness, right across from Enterprise. Oh joy!


11. Enterprise has NO CARS. The agony of defeat!


12. Looks like I'm BARTing it to work. I break off in a run towards the 8th and Market station.


13. I get off at San Bruno, since I remember there being a shuttle that goes to WM from one of these stations. The San Bruno kiosk guy says: "No, you want the south city station, one station up." Fine.


14. At the South San Francisco station, the information guys clearly think I'm speaking Greek when I ask about any shuttles to Brisbane. Just the flavor of my morning, I guess.


15. With the intention of hailing a cab, I break off in a run towards a nearby strip mall with the hopes of scoring some cash. Praise be to Trader Joe's! Some chocolates and some Jacksons later, I show up back at the BART stop and I have to beg the information guy for some quarters for the phone with which to call a cab. I've been reduced to begging for quarters.


16. One uneventful cab ride later, I'm at WM -- and it's 11:30.


17. I call the recruiter's office and leave a couple of really pathetic messages on the machine. Way to make a great first impression, shithead.


18. My manager says: "What happened to you? I called your cell phone..." I just shove the estimate from the shop in his face.


19. The shop calls: it's going to be around $300 included, which is very cheap considering how bad it could've been. Apparently one of the plastic parts going to one of the engine heads failed (rather than the head itself, which could've been REALLY bad). He says it's common with these Beetles.


20. I contemplate how it isn't even lunchtime yet and I'm already screwed six ways from Sunday.