From the gutter to the top

Ah Detroit - you never disappoint me when it comes to adventure.

Had the KMFDM show Friday night at Harpo's - in the swell part of town.

Show was great. They played everything I wanted to hear, and I was sweaty and I jumped around, and Don got drunk, and I met up with an old friend from junior high. Just a great time.

And then we headed home.

About two miles down I-94, Don and I noticed a weird noise coming from the Aerio's back end.

"I think your tire's flat," Don says.

Well shit. So we pull off on Gratiot, my tire obviously flat, and head to this run-down gas station.

In the ghetto.

We get out of the car, and Don heads in to buy some fix-a-flat (at this noisy homeless lady's suggestion), but I saw the back of the tire leaking the stuff. So that was useless.

Don and I grab the jack out of the back, only to notice that it's missing the jacking bar. Things keep getting better.

So I troll the parking lot, asking for anyone with a jack, and I get ignored in the lot, in the store, everywhere. White boy, ghetto - you'd think I'd get all kinds of attention. But I stop this giant black Escalade, with one guy getting out to pump his gas, and I ask them for a jack.

"What, you broke down?"

No, I'm taking a survey.

The guy makes me pay $5 for his gas before he'll help me, but I figure it's worth it. We jack the car up (our conversation going from Detroit winning that night to how black people get misrepresented), change the tire, and finally head home - lots of hand-shakes and "thank yous" all around.

And besides Don making me stop along the highway to pee, we made it home alive.

Good show, bad drive home, and when we DID get home - I found someone had actually slashed my tires.

A nice big, square hole in the back of my tire. That's what I get for going to enjoy a rock show.

Late night, lots of wisdom.

So how was YOUR weekend?