best fucking wednesday EVER.

and it totally started out in The Pit...of Despaaaaaair, too, which makes it all the better.

the marmot gets essentially no sleep. Gets to work. boo, work. mawit tired. marit messed up proportions on coffee manufacturing in the morning. mawit sad. mawit gets coffee. things looking up. two calls down...then three...four...five. We're on our way to our sixth call and we drive past the Fox Theatre.

What's on the sign? Sep 23 Rodrigo y Gabriela.

what. WHAT. WHAAAT. mawit thinks "Dammit! I missed them AGAIN! WAIT! 23!!! 23 is TODAY!" grab phone. text mom to beg for info on concert start/price/etc.

starts at 8pm. tickets still available, 35 bucks. HELL. YES. text The Boy: hey remember rod y gab, want to go tonight?"

The Boy gets tickets with four minutes remaining. HELL. YES.

then, enter Murphy. we're delayed at our seventh call. dispatch has given us an eighth call, too, with a 5:30 pickup. PICKUP. mawit flips the fuck out. partner shakes head at mawit. of course we're gonna get a late call. we always get late calls. no, dispatch can't make it go away magically no matter how much you beg them.
mawit still flipping the fuck out because suddenly the great glimmer of hope that today wasn't going to totally suck is being eclipsed by yawning pit of despair.

on last leg of last call partner says something about bart and rides and mawit doesn't get it (because logic while flipping the fuck out? notsomuch.) the Boy calls. what's the deal? The Sainted Partner lays out the plan: The Boy meets mawit at work. The Boy and Mawit drive their car to BART. partner follows. we park our car at BART, hop in partner's car. partner drives us to theatre. (opposite direction of partner's home.)

cleared last call around 7:10. was at theatre by 7:45.

concert = win.