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Losing your keys is the ****ing worst.
Went to a show in Lawrence last night that I didn't want to go to, but my buddy's band was opening up and I move in a couple weeks so this might be the last I ever see of some of the fellas and my last show ever in Lawrence (although I came to terms with that when I saw Voivod there in March). I literally had the conversation with myself as my hand was on the doorknob, "you don't have to do this." So against my better judgement, I drive down to see fat ass Max Cavalera, old as **** Death Angel, and sounded like shit Corrosion of Conformity (others were in disagreement about their sound). I'm not even drinking because I drove down solo and didn't want to risk getting shot by a cop over a DUI on my way back. Plus I wanted to leave after my buddy's set.
I get there, see my buddy's band, bought a t-shirt for my wife, listened to some new d-beat cassette in another buddy's van that he wanted me to hear, chatted some other foos up, and posed for some photogs. 8:45 and it's time to head back to KC, watch some Royals on the DVR and hit the hay. Except after walking 4 blocks to my car, I realize I don't have my keys. So I retrace all my steps, nothing. Talk to the guys at the bar where the show is at, no one has turned anything in. So I stick around with hessians crashing into me in the pit while I look for my keys on the floor, nothing. My buddy with the van did the right thing and left early as well, so I send him a Facebook message asking if my keys are in his van.
At this point, no keys and my only ride back to KC is with my buddy's band and they're staying until the end (like all bands should). So at 1:30am we finally head out, but they want to grab a bite so we hit up Burrito King and I get a spicy carnita burrito like I always do (I'll circle back around to what should of been the highlight of my night in a second). Burritos crushed, we hit the road, arrive at their storage unit in KC, I help them unload and finally get dropped of at my house at 2:35am. No keys, my wife's in Chicago, no garage door keypad, no key stashed under a pot; just the cat staring at me through the window like "just come inside, dumbass". So I decide to just sleep on our porch swing, knowing that my neighbor who has a key to our house walks his dog at 7:00am. Now I'm laying there on the porch swing freezing my ass off, and holding back a horrific Burrito King shit. I mean, 1/4 of this thing is already protruding out my butthole, but the possibility of shitting outside was not even considered as this dump had all the prerequisites of needing a Steven King novel amount of paper to clean my ass. And I was right. I've shit twice since gaining entry to my house and both were full of hate.
Anyway, we of course gave our responsible neighbor the key to our house. So attempting to not look like a drugged out nutjob, he comes out and I make up some story about driving my car into our nearby shop for some repairs before they opened and mistakenly left my entire set of keys with the car when I walked back home. Even though I looked a hot mess in my 4th most graphic death metal t-shirt, buttcheek waddling across the street, and a knot in my neck the size of Octomom's dangling clit from laying on that ****ing porch swing; he chuckles awkwardly and grabs his key. While I'm defiling my bathroom, I get a Facebook message from my buddy that my keys are in his van but I'd have to go to his work in Independence to get them. So now I've spent a half day just getting my keys and my shit back up to KC.
*my buddy did offer his place to stay, but he has 2 kids and a pregnant wife who was already grumpy that he was out that late and hadn't yet found out that there was no to-go burrito purchased for her after she likely quizzed him on what he'd eaten that night
*I thought about Uber-ing to a motel, but at 2:30am, I felt I could tough it out and I did.
*the real **** you though, is that my keys are on a clip that fastens to a belt loop, but my dumbass just had them in my pocket
I am no doubt too old for this shit.
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