Slingin' the Sauce

I made a ton of money at work this week, or rather, I made a ton of money compared to what I was making before. On Saturday, I tended bar for nine hours and then had to cover a wait shift for a girl who came in, started crying and went home. I made out, but Erin and I didn't get to spend the evening together like we were planning, which was a huge disappointment, as we only have one weekend night to stay out late. I was so exhausted when I got home, after midnight, that I nearly cried. Vodka made that problem go away.

Sunday was a good day, regardless. Erin and I picked out a pair of pumpkins and carved them while watching the Steelers game. I think mine is way cooler look than her design, but I pursued a more traditional carving. I found it odd, because (as a kid) I never used to like doing "childish" activities, but now that I'm older I'm a lot more comfortable with it. If I ever get my camera repaired, I'll put up a picture. We were thinking about Halloween costumes, but it seems kind of pointless without a party to attend. Currently, we're contemplating dressing up as the Blues Brothers and getting drunk downtown. It makes me wish I were back in college; I really miss Pittsburgh.

I'm reminded of the time I spent in towns like Kansas City, Colorado Springs, Boise, Spokane and Seattle. Am I supposed to forget all the good times I've had? Are none of these places special? I hope that I can contine to travel to more interesting places and continue to have wild stories. Who could ask for more?

Falls Creek Falls

The only travel lately was to Eastern Tennessee, to see Falls Creek Falls, the biggest mother-fucking waterfall east of the continental divide. It was a beautiful drive and the park itself was well worth the time spent driving. The picture doesn't really do it much justice; it's a very tall waterfall coming over a shear cliff in a steep-sloped ravine; the leaves were just starting to change, and it smelled like Fall, which always makes me think of pressing cider in long bygone Octobers. Erin and I had a mini-picnic on a log that consisted of oranges, water from a nalgene and trail mix. The only downer was that there were people everywhere clogging the trail, climbing on things, holding screaming children, etc. but I'm a people too, so it's not really fair to complain.

On Monday, Erin and I helped some of her friends paint. If I recall, I only worked for about an hour or two, but this was enough to nearly incapacitate me by the next day. The bad news is that I appear to be getting older and should probably remember to stretch more frequently. The good news is that I got to take some of Erin's Vicoden, and had the most pleasant dreams. It almost makes me look forward to my next injury...

At work, Jarod went to his girlfriend's brother's wedding back in Akron, Ohio, I think. This means I get to tend bar by myself all week, so this should be a big chance for me to cash in and further ingratiate myself to my superiors. I asked for ten days off over Thanksgiving break, and was told that I could have it - much to my surprise. I was expecting to have to quit and take a Greyhound back to Pittsburgh.

Now, it appears as though I'll have money for my trip and I won't have to worry about finding employment upon returning. This is a huge weight off my mind, obviously. The biggest problem I'm currently working on is how to transport a bike from Pittsburgh to Nashville. I could ship my gear: lock, tools, bag, helmet, etc. but I'm not sure how to ship a bike - assuming it will be too cold and take much too long to ride it back. Without buying a trailer, I'm pretty sure the logistics would be near impossible anyway. I'm pretty sure I can strip down the bars, pedals and wheels and get it packed, but this would require buying a box, purchasing or borrowing a pedal wrench and I'd probably have to pay at least $4o for shipping on Greyhound (I'm assuming much more if I fly). I called the guys at Iron City Bikes, and was assured that they could take care of packaging for me, if I return.

Life in Nashville is good. It seems like Erin and I are getting more tense, but we're both working hard and being asked to do more at each of our jobs, although I'm sure my position is much less stressful. I think we're both looking forward to vacation. Otherwise, I'm reading Moby Dick, learning how to mix drinks and trying to get some miniature roses to bloom before the first frost hits. I've noticed that I've been talking to people from Allentown more and more and people from Pittsburgh less and less. I wonder what this means in terms of my conception of "home," but at the same time, I know I really miss Pittsburgh as a whole. I don't know how important it is that most of my shit is sitting back there, but I'll admit that it does cross my mind often.

Fall Descends

I've been placed behind the bar without a bit of training, which makes it a very exciting and slightly stressful experience. All in all, I think it's a pretty easy job, though. The hardest thing to do is tolerate lone assholes who sit and babble with their face in a beer. I have one day off this week, but I don't have any friends here, so it's not that big an inconvenience. I do, however, get very, very tired as soon as I get home.

Erin and I saw "All the King's Men" in Green Hills. I continue to hunt for a bike. The weather gets cooler, but not cold; we have yet to experience our first frost of the year. Erin wants to move to Washington, D.C. and I want palm trees or Pittsburgh, so there's contention there. It's getting more and more distressing to live without a bike, a stereo, guitar, etc. but I it's certainly not unbearable. I plan on taking a week off or so and getting back to Pittsburgh in order to hitch a ride home for Thanksgiving. We shall see how well that works out. I can't seem to save any money with my shitty income so flying might be out of the question. I loathe the prospect of traveling by bus, but I may not have a choice.

No Money, No Problems?

After working all week, I haven't made anything worth mentioning. I still haven't recieved a paycheck - not that it matters, because I'm sure the federal and state governments will have confiscated my wages before I get to touch them. I'm hoping to get fired and start collecting unemployment or get some food stamps or something; I've been fucked by the system long enough; I figure I'm owed a few free meals. I applied at a few other places after work yesterday, but my spirits are sinking. Of course, this was before my keys fell out of my pocket on the bus, leaving me stranded outside of the grocery store for two hours. It was a bad day, with the exception of the six pack that Erin brought me.

At Past Perfect, the boss offered to let me tend bar during the day, but that would just be more work for the same amount of money. I also pointed out that I have no relevant experience, but he said "you'll figure it out." The training program here strikes me as woefully subpar. I've been here almost a month and I don't have enough money to fly anywhere yet, even without paying rent! The situation grows intolerable.

Meanwhile, Jen(n) explores Portland, which I neglected to do while in Seattle. She promises that my bike is in good condition back in Pittsburgh, but I worry. I'm starting to miss my meager, but cool, possessions. I've been dreaming about riding a bike and pruning plants, so obviously I'm 1) lame, and 2) starting to miss my old ways. The incomparable Ed mentioned to me that he rides everywhere, writes letters to the editor and has several house plants now. I feel my identity being usurped in my absence. Perhaps it's time to line up a job in Pittsburgh and buy shelter? Erin is starting to hate her job and we're both looking forward to getting out of the south, I think, but I have trouble picturing anything in the future more than a month from now.

Woe and Lamentations

Tuesday yields barely any money again. Tuesday shall also be known forever as the first time that I ever waited on a table and receieved no tip; two old farts with their belts in their armpits ordered two "sah-wheat tays" and left. Now, seriously, what the fuck is up with you, old people?

I try, you know? I fucking brought you two iced teas. I brewed it myself, added your sweet-southern-sugar water and even garnished it with a lemon to let you know how much I cared. Thanks for making me change a twenty for your precious tea and then walking out in front of me without leaving so much as your pocket change behind. Fuck you, old people; fuck you and your kind! You are eating up all of my social security, you have enough money to tour downtown Nashville for fun on a sunny Tuesday afternoon, and your generation fucked everything under the sun twice before I was even born - cut me some fucking slack and leave me a god-damned quarter so I can take the fucking bus home, assholes! Viagra can't be that expensive when you have Medicare and a pension to take of your withering bodies - how about a buck for the listening to you babble for ten minutes about how everything on the menu was unappealing?

In addition, it occurs to me that I still don't have a bike here. This is absolute bullshit! I have dreams about buying a bike at K-mart and riding it around the city. This shit is not right and it's become obvious that relying on the bus is just about the saddest thing ever. That kind of nonesense is for rainy days and hangovers. I need a pair of wheels. I don't even think I need gears here. Any bike will do. Lord, send me a bicycle in order to spread faith and peace o'er the land.

Also, Tuesday, you are the worst day of the nasty week. I fucking hate you. Remember what day September 11th fell on in 2001? I'm fucking on to you, Tuesday. You aren't even a fucking midpoint, especially considering that your supposedly rough buddy, Monday, is my day off every week.


I'm tired of making nothing, tolerating old people, Tuesday mornings and rolling silverware for closers. I am getting the proverbial shaft. This restaurant is stupid, and the new job hunt officially begins today. I am a professional when it comes to working shitty restaurant jobs and I demand recognition.

Waiting

Past Perfect got a horrible review in one of Nashville's free weekly newspapers. My boss was dejected for more than a day, but, strangely, this has only increased business and made our regulars more loyal. He engineered a particularly bitter cocktail and named it after the woman who wrote the article. I love the character of this place.

I made almost nothing until Thursday, but the last few days were busy and the boss had me help him do some catering, for which I made, "a few extra bones." One of the owners insisted that I was doing a wonderful job and offered me shifts behind the bar because they don't want me to look for work elsewhere. All in all, it's a nice situation. I could be making much more money, but I get to choose my shifts and some of my coworkers are hanging out with me outside of work. It's very nice to have a few friends around again, although they don't come close to the Pittsburgh or expatriated Center Valley crew, obviously.

Things continue to go well with Erin, but both our families seem a bit skeptical, apparently. I can't speak for her, but I know my family wishes I was living closer to home - ironic considering I hardly ever see them anyway. I'm feeling a lot less stressed now that I have a job and can buy meals and drinks, unlike the poverty-stricken lad I've been for the last couple weeks. I have lot's of strange stories about work, but bitching about how people are stupid in restaurants is just too easy. Ask me about it in person sometime.

The In Sound From Way Out

As expected, I make little money working lunch shifts, but my coworkers are very cool, I listen to the blues all day long and I get to test out all my boss's various new shot mixtures when it's slow. I've only been here for three weeks and I'm already starting to resent tourists, despite the fact that they are responsible for my cash flow. I don't if it's the girl, the weather, the easy job, the omnipresent music, the warm bed and good food, the Yazoo Lager, or the new city, but I am starting to love it here. This place is surprisingly more cosmopolitan and interesting than I expected, even after having spent two days here earlier. Everyone here greets you with a smile and a few kind words - being from the Northeast, this still surprises me everyday. My stereotypes concerning Nashville have turned out to be completely false, for the most part. The locals are friendly and tip well, but most everyone you meet here is not from the south, which makes me feel infinitely more welcome and at home.

For example, I waited on three different couples from eastern Pennsylvania yesterday. They all yelled about how Yuengling was the greatest beer ever once I got them started (Jarod, the bartender who got me the job has never tried it despite being from Cleveland). The band that played on Thursday was from Pittsburgh. My boss, the cook and our busser are all from Chicago. I had to fake like I liked Seattle for a couple from Washington yesterday. It's very odd.

The tax on food strikes me as a little odd and cruel, but I think it only exists to exploit tourists, and that's fine with me. The only problem I really seem to have is that when I start drinking I tend to harass southerners, telling them how awesome the north is in comparison. This hasn't landed me in any trouble yet, but I'm sure it's bound to if I don't learn to stop bragging about Pittsburgh when I go out. However, I usually hang out with other transplants, so it might not be an issue, or if it becomes one, we'll have a big ol' fashioned southern bar brawl. Participating in such an event has been a goal of mine for a long time.