You Can’t Park There

There’s one sucky thing about the club I work at (only one, of course). There’s no real parking for the bands. It’s so embarrassing for me when I have to tell the bands, you can load in in the alley, but you can’t park there. Gotta find street parking. Sometimes, they don’t heed, and still park there. They stumble up to the bar, bartender!  Our van just got towed. Well…did you see the twenty signs that say NO PARKING TOWING ENFORCED?

There’s that, unfortunately.

Tonight, a manager of another bar on the street comes in, we’re slammed, he says, a van with a trailer is parked in the back, and it’s blocking my car. Do you know where the band is?  Oh shit. They’re gone. Probably out carousing town. I say, tell the sound guy to make an announcement over the PA. He leaves, nice guy, I feel bad. What the hell can I do?  Besides getting them towed, which I will not do.

Manager comes back twenty minutes later. No sign of the band. Shit, I say. I’m so sorry. Give me ten minutes to figure it out. He says, ok. He’s being cool, under the circumstances.

By some miracle, some Devine Intervention, a woman comes in, I know she was at the early show with one of the bands, she says, has a wallet turned up? I lost mine. I say, no. Leave me your name and number, I’ll contact you if I find it. And, do you know where I might find the band you were with?  Their van might be in the alley, and it’s blocking a car from getting out. She says, it’s not the band’s van I’m with. They’re parked on the street. Oh shit, I say. Do you have any idea where I might find one of the other bands that played? She says, I think they’re at a bar down the street. Hessen House. Ok, I say. Thanks. I’ll try to find that wallet.

Moments later, the manager comes back in. He says, they haven’t turned up. I gotta get back to my wife and kids. You understand. I say, I think I have a lead on where they’re at. I see a buddy of mine at the door, I call to him, he comes over. I tell him the situation. I ask him, could you possibly run down there, see if they’re there? Can’t miss them. They look like they’re in a band. Black t-shirts, long hair, tattoos. He says, I’ll go right now. Great. Love this guy.

Fifteen minutes my buddy returns. Found them, they moved their van, apologized for everything. Well Hallelujah. Miracles do happen.

Crises averted, no towing tonight. I buy my buddy a shot and a beer,

And then the night moves on.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis.  Bartender.


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