The ending of this story is wife and I in a Ruby Tuesday's, loving life. This was a very Harold and Kumaresque style story in which the characters (Wife and me) searched aimlessly for beers after a hard day of Six Flags standing in lines that have no forseeable end, and move so slow that by the time we got to the ride we were waiting for, construction had successfully finished on a brand new ride. Wife and I tend to have misadventures rather than adventures, perfectly understandable and usually make better stories anyway.
Did I mention that the obligatory line standing was preceded by an 8 hour drive? The duration of my driving shift was under harsh scrutiny by wife for the manner in which I operate a motor vehicle. Most affectionately described by her as "Hyper" "Disturbing" or "Jesus Christ I thought for sure you were going to hit that fucking truck." I can't help it if I love action movies and it manifests itself in my driving (self note to blog on awesomely bad movies). Each of her disparaging remarks on my wheelman skills was accompanied by a grasp of the sidebar, while thrusting her body back into the seat, simultaneously making this strange noise that for the life of me, I can't reproduce or find a suitable combination of letters to describe it.
So we arrive, we're psyched, digging it. We start our now famous tracking of items in public that we find entertaining. It's a real life game of where's waldo. Only instead of Waldo, in large crowds of people we search out mullets, fanny packs, guidos, and the always facinating PQGs. For those of you unfarmiliar with the abbreviation, I'm pretty sure it's because we invented it. Ever see someone at first glance and you cannot initially discern whether or not they are male or female? Boom. You've just spotted a PQG my friend. They are Persons of Questionable Gender. Some may find it unethical or mean even to seek out the aformentioned persons described. Our take on it is that if you wear a mullet or a fanny pack, if you dress like a guido, or if you blur the lines of gender, you probably deserve to be counted as if you have your own demographic. In certain instances, particularly the PQGs, we feel a tinge of guilt in objectifying their entire existance into a number in our count. It may not be entirely their fault they appear as a blend of both genders. Some blend those lines on purpose. See what I mean? PQGs are the crown gem of the count. They are the mew of the bunch (There's a pokèmon reference in my blog).
Where mullets and fanny packs are pretty self explanitory, PQGs and guidos are a bit more open to subject to debate. In order for the subject in question to qualify, it must first attain a two-thirds majority. Actually it means wife and I debate whether or not the person in question has enough guido features or characteristics (i.e. swagger, jewlery, chin-strap, tattoos, wife beater, jelled hair, voice/terminology). In the case of PQGs it is determined by whether or not the subject can be identified as belonging to either gender in 3 seconds or less.
Results have varried.
Interestingly enough in Six Flags, New Jersey we expected guidos to have a strong showing. Jersey, afterall being their Mecca. Their score was dismal. Conversely, fanny packs demolished the competition. As I recall PQGs won the battle in Six Flags New England.
Interestingly enough in Six Flags, New Jersey we expected guidos to have a strong showing. Jersey, afterall being their Mecca. Their score was dismal. Conversely, fanny packs demolished the competition. As I recall PQGs won the battle in Six Flags New England.
Flash to in line, Kangra-La or whatever it's called. Fastest rollercoaster in the world. Legit, 128mph. We're right before the transitional part of the line, which is to say where the second part of the line begins. We were in line for a line essentially when, unexpectedly the ride breaks down. Actually, not the least bit unexpected. We witnessed someone's phone decide quite suddenly that it no longer wanted to be the phone of that owner, and jump from the owner's pocket and onto the track of the ride. Phoneicide = death of phone. (Curses! It appears that term already exists in Urbandictionary, ergo I cannot take credit for it's conception).
Tragic.
In retrospect and it actualspect, because at the time I was generally and quite publicly hoping that whatever cellular device it was, it was both expensive and implacably as it caused an immovable status in the line for the ride to be repaired. Further adding to our frustration was the ambiguity and frequency of the messages from the Six Flag's staff via the radio device. The exact terminology eludes me, but it was something to the effect of:
"Hi there Six Flags riders! There has been an unexpected development in the machinery of the Rollercoaster, we are unable to provide you with an estimated time for when it will be operational. You are welcome to wait as we provide you updates, however feel free to check out our other rides. We don't know what the fuck we're talking about!"
Like I said, I'm paraphrasing but it was something like that.
Wife and I, assess our position in line and decide that we are doing quite a bit better than most, besides, how hard could it be to remove a phone or whatever from the tracks?
Impossible it seems.
I hadn't to this point taken to the habit of timing our waits for our own edification, but this was like a DMV wait combined with an hour wait that they promise you at a restaurant which turns out to be closer to two combined with Space Mountain at Disney, combined with the wait you waited back in the day to download anything with AOL. Yeah, I went there.
It was infuriating, it was demoralizing, it was some other ing word I don't even know. Wife and I, throughly pissed of after waiting extensively, hearing the same identical message from the same identical person in 5 minute intervals, relinquished our excellent position in the line for greener pastures. To be fair, we managed several other rides that session before calling it quits on day 1 of Six Flags. After the bullshit ride breaking experience, 9 or 10 hours of driving, and the lack of food, we're clamoring not for food actually, but absolutely jonesing for some beers. After the day we've had, it's just deserved.
Little did we know, practically everything in New Jersey closes at 10PM. What kind of place is this? Do you think all those Jersey Shore brats are done at 10PM. False.
We went back to the hotel's restaurant and they're open until 10:30, it's like 10:15 and the people in front of us are, well, for starters they're only in front of us because they blatantly cut us. They were so arrogant as to turn to us and say "This will only take a second." Like that somehow makes it okay to bounce the line dude? This guy had the black rimmed rectangular glasses, and I'll be dammed if that fucker wasn't wearing a beret. He was so pompous, so arrogant, IN A HOLIDAY INN!
I think they were exchanging bills. The process of exchanging bills however, should be much more expedient than what we see before us. Especially hungry. Especially on a deadline which is unrealistic and frankly irresponsible. The guy in the beret just had to make a two step process into a twelve. Wife just happened to be a bit more vocal at the time.
"REALLY? Stop trying to figure out exactly what to tip in the HOLIDAY INN!" *Angry glare, storms off*
I storm off too, because that was fucking awesome. She had the balls to say what we were both thinking in a way that was obvious enough for him to realize how much of a douche he was being. Now we're out of one more option and it's up to me, wife, and Mindy (the name for my Tom Tom GPS) to figure out plan B, C, D, or whatever letter we're on.
We're aware of a string of chain restaurants down whatever highway was farmillar to us at the time and decide to see if they're still doing "To-Go" shit that we can just bring back to the hotel room and eat this late at night. Ruby Tuesday's appears like a beacon, and something tells me it's worth a shot, which is interesting because there are hardly any cars in the lot. We pull in, I hop out planning to order wife something to go when I enter and see the hostess.
The young man is definitely a gasian, or gay Asian.
With his little lilt in his voice "Hi welcome to Ruby Tuesday's! How can I help you?" Yes the italics are for emphasis like he was especially concerned of how to help me. Also I would like the record to show that one of his eyebrows raised at both the mention of "Ruby" and "Tuesdays" as though they're codes for something. Invitations perhaps. It is at this point irrelevant. Thinking fast I ask:
"How late are you guys open?"
"Midnight." Again with the god dammed eyebrow raise.
Anyway the news is like a lightning bolt , and I rush back to the car, and to wife to inform her of the news. We enter the Rubes and they say there's only seating at the bar. To which we reply, perfect.
Next the bartender/waitress at the bar informs us that with each drink over 3$ we are provided with a complementary slider, or mini hamburger of glory.
Seriously? Several hours ago we were ready to impale hapless ride jocky's for not knowing answers, rando line jumpers for exchanging bills, and now we've been ushered into Ruby's loving embrace? It's not even Tuesday! Blessed, we were to have our prayers answered by Ruby Tuesday's. Beers and variety dining! No rush!
Relief and sustenance swept over us as we realized that we owed something to Ruby's. It had salvaged some unfortunate turn of events, while managing to do so effortlessly so gracefully.
In the past I've been known to write angry, condescending emails to persons either directly or indirectly affecting my life in a negative manner. It was with much pleasure that I composed a well thought out, eloquent, articulate, email to the organization of Ruby Tuesday's for how they had come through for wife and I in our hour of need, where no one else in the vicinity would. As a result, they have secured my business forever, not for every meal that is, but I will always have them considered as an option.
"Hi there Six Flags riders! There has been an unexpected development in the machinery of the Rollercoaster, we are unable to provide you with an estimated time for when it will be operational. You are welcome to wait as we provide you updates, however feel free to check out our other rides. We don't know what the fuck we're talking about!"
Like I said, I'm paraphrasing but it was something like that.
Wife and I, assess our position in line and decide that we are doing quite a bit better than most, besides, how hard could it be to remove a phone or whatever from the tracks?
Impossible it seems.
I hadn't to this point taken to the habit of timing our waits for our own edification, but this was like a DMV wait combined with an hour wait that they promise you at a restaurant which turns out to be closer to two combined with Space Mountain at Disney, combined with the wait you waited back in the day to download anything with AOL. Yeah, I went there.
It was infuriating, it was demoralizing, it was some other ing word I don't even know. Wife and I, throughly pissed of after waiting extensively, hearing the same identical message from the same identical person in 5 minute intervals, relinquished our excellent position in the line for greener pastures. To be fair, we managed several other rides that session before calling it quits on day 1 of Six Flags. After the bullshit ride breaking experience, 9 or 10 hours of driving, and the lack of food, we're clamoring not for food actually, but absolutely jonesing for some beers. After the day we've had, it's just deserved.
Little did we know, practically everything in New Jersey closes at 10PM. What kind of place is this? Do you think all those Jersey Shore brats are done at 10PM. False.
We went back to the hotel's restaurant and they're open until 10:30, it's like 10:15 and the people in front of us are, well, for starters they're only in front of us because they blatantly cut us. They were so arrogant as to turn to us and say "This will only take a second." Like that somehow makes it okay to bounce the line dude? This guy had the black rimmed rectangular glasses, and I'll be dammed if that fucker wasn't wearing a beret. He was so pompous, so arrogant, IN A HOLIDAY INN!
I think they were exchanging bills. The process of exchanging bills however, should be much more expedient than what we see before us. Especially hungry. Especially on a deadline which is unrealistic and frankly irresponsible. The guy in the beret just had to make a two step process into a twelve. Wife just happened to be a bit more vocal at the time.
"REALLY? Stop trying to figure out exactly what to tip in the HOLIDAY INN!" *Angry glare, storms off*
I storm off too, because that was fucking awesome. She had the balls to say what we were both thinking in a way that was obvious enough for him to realize how much of a douche he was being. Now we're out of one more option and it's up to me, wife, and Mindy (the name for my Tom Tom GPS) to figure out plan B, C, D, or whatever letter we're on.
We're aware of a string of chain restaurants down whatever highway was farmillar to us at the time and decide to see if they're still doing "To-Go" shit that we can just bring back to the hotel room and eat this late at night. Ruby Tuesday's appears like a beacon, and something tells me it's worth a shot, which is interesting because there are hardly any cars in the lot. We pull in, I hop out planning to order wife something to go when I enter and see the hostess.
The young man is definitely a gasian, or gay Asian.
With his little lilt in his voice "Hi welcome to Ruby Tuesday's! How can I help you?" Yes the italics are for emphasis like he was especially concerned of how to help me. Also I would like the record to show that one of his eyebrows raised at both the mention of "Ruby" and "Tuesdays" as though they're codes for something. Invitations perhaps. It is at this point irrelevant. Thinking fast I ask:
"How late are you guys open?"
"Midnight." Again with the god dammed eyebrow raise.
Anyway the news is like a lightning bolt , and I rush back to the car, and to wife to inform her of the news. We enter the Rubes and they say there's only seating at the bar. To which we reply, perfect.
Next the bartender/waitress at the bar informs us that with each drink over 3$ we are provided with a complementary slider, or mini hamburger of glory.
Seriously? Several hours ago we were ready to impale hapless ride jocky's for not knowing answers, rando line jumpers for exchanging bills, and now we've been ushered into Ruby's loving embrace? It's not even Tuesday! Blessed, we were to have our prayers answered by Ruby Tuesday's. Beers and variety dining! No rush!
Relief and sustenance swept over us as we realized that we owed something to Ruby's. It had salvaged some unfortunate turn of events, while managing to do so effortlessly so gracefully.
In the past I've been known to write angry, condescending emails to persons either directly or indirectly affecting my life in a negative manner. It was with much pleasure that I composed a well thought out, eloquent, articulate, email to the organization of Ruby Tuesday's for how they had come through for wife and I in our hour of need, where no one else in the vicinity would. As a result, they have secured my business forever, not for every meal that is, but I will always have them considered as an option.
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