So, how was my New Years?
I had been asked if I'd work New Years Eve, a few months back, and since we didn't really have big plans, I agreed. I had not worked at the Glass Cat or Bondage-A-Go-Go since, you know, "back in the day" when it was the Trocadero and it smelled like shit and we loved it.
The Glass Cat is a nice renovation, and overall the club smells nicer, except... ah, yes, the area near the mens'restroom still smells like the old days. How quaint. Really, though, a nice club, though I missed the old place.
Not the most exciting New Year's Eve on record, so I was glad when I was finally let off of work. Only to find that, yays, my bike wouldn't start. So at 2:30 in the morning, I texted Paul and told him, and tried to think of what to do. New Years Eve= no cabs, anywhere. Drunks, everywhere. The security staff at this particular club was not staffed with anyone I would consider able to help me. (It was around this time I began to really wish we'd had New Years Eve at the DNA, where I could have gotten help) The end result was that Paul hauled himself out of a warm, cat filled bed to ride up amongst all the New Years' drunks at 3 in the morning on one of the coldest nights of the year. It was "The Awesome." We got home around 4:30 in the morning after Paul arrived on his shining steed and rescued me in minutes of work, shaming all other men in the Greater Bay Area.
It's only sort of funny that I had been mentioning earlier that day that I noticed my bike didn't like to start up like it used to. Ha ha ha. Damn, so the SV needs at least a new battery. I rode it to work Saturday night, and the ride back nearly killed me because I couldn't run my electric vest. I literally had to pull off the road and thaw my fingers out by removing my gloves and shoving my hands down my pants for ten minutes. That was the coldest ride I think I've ever had, and I think proof that the electric vest keeps your extremities more comfortable by heating your core. Anyway, damn.