My Worst First Date, or Why You Should Never Trust the Bank
Hell hath no fury like an angry bank manager.
$177.86 was the ultimate price I paid (literally) in order to get home from the streets of Brooklyn on a cold February night back in 2016. While this tale is a #WorstDateStory, I want to preface that the date itself was, for the most part, fine. This is more of a cautionary tale to those using mass transit to reach their dating destination. Do not make the same mistake I did, or else you'll never that $178 ever again.
The decision that had me Ubering back home from New York was rooted in parking. I was leaving directly after work for my first date with this girl. Normally, I would leave my vehicle in the work lot, but the evening was busy and there was no parking. I had intended on returning that evening, so I left my car in the spot I had originally left it in: the bank parking. My old job shares a lot with the bank that we used and on weekends and nights, we could use the lot, as did the rest of the town. During the day, however, was a different story. The bank was managed by a woman who was most of the time very nice, but could turn face in less than a second. Despite her short stature, she took no shit from anybody.
This is an important detail.
My night started. I hopped on the train, had my train beer, transferred, got to Penn Station, and hopped on the subway down to the East Village, where I was meeting this girl. We had met on OKCupid. After waiting at the agreed on bar for a little bit, she eventually showed up and we began our so-called date, which mostly consisted of drinking beer and talking about our jobs and pop culture. Eventually this transpired into venturing out for pizza and stealing beer from the refrigerator there before the idea of going back to her apartment in Ditmas Park, Brooklyn came up. We then hopped an Uber.
All of this sounds pretty standard for a date, I suppose, but this is where things take a turn.
At some point while at her apartment, I wondered what time it was and saw that it was close to midnight. She suggested for me to stay over, as it was late and we had been drinking. I accepted the invitation, figuring I would spend the night on the couch with her dog that wore a diaper.
I didn't mention the dog wore a diaper? Well, it did. The dog had more than a few problems.
Anyway, as I was settling into the fact that I was going to be able to crash, I began to have visions of a very angry bank manager seeing my car (which was relatively new at that point) in her precious parking lot and undoubtedly calling the tow truck. I frantically texted one of the employees I knew there, asking if it would be okay. I believe his response was something along the lines of:
"I dunno, homie, I've never done that, but it sounds like a risk you might have to take. Can't speak on future actions, you know?"
A true help, he was.
Now that it was midnight, I made the (generally poor) decision of going back to New Jersey. Given that the last train was at 1:20 AM, I thought that a night of little sleep was better than having to pay the towing fee and not have a vehicle. I explained my situation, got my stuff together, and walked out of the apartment. As I did, I saw a car drive by. It passed and I crossed the street. About half a block up, I heard brakes squeal and a door being opened.
"Get on the fucking ground! Get out of the damn car!"
A carjacking was happening less than 150 feet away. I ran to the subway station and waited. And waited. And waited. It was now 12:30 AM. The train was not coming. I swallowed my pride and walked back up to the surface, now $2.50 lighter. I hailed an Uber and waited for it near the station entrance. Finally, the Uber showed up and I hopped in. Originally, I was set for Penn Station, but upon asking the driver if we would make it by 1:20, he doubtfully stated it was unlikely. As we crossed the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan, I asked the driver if he could take me all the way back to New Jersey. I just could not deal with the idea of my car not being there in the morning.
The driver said he could, but that it would require me to cancel the current ride and request another. It cost me $30 but I didn't care at that point; I just wanted to go home.
I spent the rest of the ride in relative silence, as I was exhausted and the beer was wearing off. Or was it? I couldn't tell. At some point around 2 AM or thereafter, I arrived back in New Jersey at my old job. I hopped out of the Uber after thanking the guy big time. He certainly got a five-star rating. I carefully drove home and immediately went to bed.
After all that, I totaled up my Uber spending:
- $46.37 on the initial ride to my date's apartment
- $30.18 for the cancelled ride
- $98.81 to get from Brooklyn to Jersey
Total all of that up and I spent $175.36 that evening. If you count the $2.50 I didn't use for the subway, that would be $177.86. $177.86. Is that worth a first date? Eh, probably not, given that I did not see the girl in question after that evening. I did let her know that I got home safe and we texted for a few days after that, but I decided that it was not worth pursuing, regardless of my "adventure" getting home. At that point in my life, I still needed to experience dating more, and I politely said that I was not interested in meeting up again. It was, at the very least, an amicable ending.
The lesson learned here? Always know where you parked your car and ALWAYS make sure you can park your car there. Otherwise, you will face the wrath of an angry bank manager.