So after the whole incident with the car accident, I drove to the glasses place. I walk in there and show them the state my glasses are in and they gave me their professional opinion:
"Dude, your glasses are broke!"
No shit, Sherlock. They do tell me that i could go to the jeweler in the mall and have him solder the temple back on, y'know 'cuz he does it for them sometimes. So I go and he tells me, "Look, man, we don't solder this close 'cuz if we get any molten metal in the screwhole, you'll never get a bolt in there again." So that's a NO.
I go back and they tell me the only other option is to buy new frames. Fine, they're $40. I don't have $40 right now, but there is an ATM over at the gas station. So I go over there and withdrew money from my ATM with my ATM Card. Keep my ATM Card in mind for this segment of the story. I get my glasses frame but the sales associates tell me that the lenses are too big for the closest frame they have, so I let them grind the glasses down a bit. New frames, I'm somewhat A-OK: I'm going home.
OK, new plan: I'll take a cab to the hospital. I called up a cab and they came in two minutes. The hell? I'm trying to get something to eat and they arrived in two minutes! Why couldn't they have taken forever, like they usually do? Whatever.
I got in the cab and went to the good hospital in town. When i got there, I filled out some forms and I waited…
Then a nurse did some tests, put me in triage and I waited…
Then an orderly took me to this waiting room and I waited…
And here comes my doctor! YAAAAY!
Looks like my doctor is channeling Tony Danza and Jonas Salk at the same time. He comes in like a sitcom star and treats me with excellent bedside manner and professionalism, but with every other word out of his mouth being "FUGHEDDABOUDIT!", I had my doubts. His final diagnosis: "Fugheddaboudit, just take some Thera-Flu and you'll be OK."
I went to the hospital for this.
Before I left, I had to talk to the clerk, tho'. His name was Fred. It's a good thing I am not a woman, because I WOULD BE ALL ABOUT THIS GUY. This Fred is a pretty man. "Pretty Pretty" like Barbarella (1968). He asked me about billing and stuff and then I caught the same cab and told the driver to hit the nearest Eckerd, 'cuz then I could get the Thera-Flu and debit it and get the money to pay for the ride! He drives me to the nearest one and I get to the counter with the Thera-Flu and try to go debit––
––the damn ATM Card's not reading!!! Whaaaaaaa? I just used it earlier today! Luckily, I had enough money to pay for the medicine and I told the cabbie guy to hit Capital City Bank. "We need to get you your money," i said. So we're there and I stick my card in the ATM machine, thinking that if the rinky-dinky debit machine at Eckerd can't handle it, then surely the main ATM machine will be able to handle this problem. I don't know why I thought that. Just keep on rollin'.
The ATM machine gives me a message: it says––
––CARD NOT VALID. Anymore. Rrrrrg, Arrgh, and Arrrr Matey. The cabbie asks me, "Do you have a credit card?" Yes I do, but I don't like using it. Still gotta pay this guy, tho'.
When the cabbie asked me that question, he meant for me to run the card thru his reader in the cab. I thought he meant to use it in the ATM machine. I get a cash advance of $30––
––which pits me $26 over my credit limit. The damage has been done, so he just took me home. Man, I stayed in the house that night. With my luck, I might have been killed. I stayed home and cooked up a storm: garlic potatoes, sweet carrots, wild rice and lemon pepper chicken. It was aaaaaaalll goooood! Then I went to sleep, thinking all was OK. It was OK and then on Sunday, like a Jehovah's Witness from behind the bushes, MISTER SATURDAY CAME A-CALLIN' AGAIN…