I went to the very first First Friday at the new and improved Lox Salon on Friday night and it was awesome! I hadn't been to one in forever and I wouldn't miss this one for the world! That being said, it looks like that statement was put to the test by some higher power that night.
I work literally 5 minutes from the salon, and I headed that direction right after clocking out for the week. Apparently I missed a big memo about driving downtown that night- there was a Christmas parade. Oops, I guess that's what I get for not staying up with all the "family type" happenings of Knoxville. So I'm a crappy family person, sue me. I called Brynn to tell her I'd be there and she was super excited, I felt like such a good friend. And immediately like a pretty crappy friend for not having gone to one in forever. So anyway, here's where my determination was heavily tested- it took me 40 minutes to get there. In case you're illiterate to numbers, that's forty minutes. And parking was another story, there's a pay lot about 20 steps from the salon, so that's where I planned to park. I thought I was getting there early so I could beat the Friday night rush, go to Patrick Sullivan's for a quick beer and then head over. After realizing there's a parade going on and every single road I need to get there is blocked, I almost had to call Brynn back and cancel. For obvious reasons, I didn't want to do that. I finally found a parking lot about five minutes from the salon, not quite 20 steps, but it'll do. Or not- the spots were numbered and there were a few spots off to the side with black lines and no numbers. One would assume this is a no parking zone by those factors alone. If not, the lovely sign off to the right that says "No parking anytime, towing enforced" would do the trick. Other people did it, so it stands to reason that I did too. Paranoia set in big time. Worries about towing, ugly yellow boots and tickets began plaguing me almost immediately. I figured the parade could cause the situation to go one of two ways- first, because of the parade, the cops would have bigger fish to fry than my measly invented parking spot or two, the cops would have a field day with the parking because of the parade and would be out for blood. I chanced it. Truthfully, I couldn't have missed this event and it was worth the cost of a parking ticket to me.
The fun started when I got there. The parade started and some of us stood outside watching this nonsense go marching by. We had a big ol' barrel of monkeys laughing at the random people waving from the floats and waved back, yelling "Do I know you??" Oh dear, red wine, champagne and public events don't go together. And for some reason, I kept wanting to cry. I hate parades with a passion. Wanna know why? Because I was required to attend every single one in my hometown for 8 straight years. My brother's participating in the marching band was my first reason for going and then my own band mistake and dance team years took over from there. I hate parades. But for some reason, the nostalgia was overwhelming. Maybe because of the sentiments with Brynn's new salon helped with that, but I couldn't figure out why something I hate so much could cause me to be so emotional. Weird. The parade ended and I had the marvelous idea to move my car to a better spot as the traffic lightened up a bit. Background fact: The new Lox has stairs. The old one did not. Another factoid: I was wearing new heels. 4 inches of new heels, to be exact. So who decided it'd be quicker to take a tumbly down the stairs? Me. It hurt. Surprisingly my pride was pretty well intact afterwards. I landed on my feet and took a note from an old friend by pronouncing to the world "I'm OK!" to make it a tad funnier to those who saw it. I hate the "OMG are you okay?" questions because in reality, they are just doing it to make themselves feel better about laughing. Admit it, we all do it. We ask "are you okay?" and after the "yeah" comes, we think to ourselves "good, that makes me feel so much better about laughing at your clumsy ass." Yup, it hurt. Gots me a nice swollen bruise on my shin to show for it. But what did I do after the fact? Called my bestie to tell him alllll about it. Because I was laughing too!! Good thing I limped over there when I did, too. They were starting to tow when I got there. So after moving my car to one of those spots without black lines and with numbers, I went to pay for my parking spot at the little machine. I had to type in the number of my spot to prepay for it. It said there were no available rates for the spot. Maybe the person who parked there before me paid for a longer amount of time than they stayed, that was the only thing I could think of. So I moved my car, same result. I came to the conclusion that I am an idiot. I looked at the sign posted next the machine to pay and sure enough, city ordinance requires that all city lots be free for the nights and weekends. I thought for a second and realized it was indeed night time, and a weekend. I'm so observant. Not.
Talk about jumping through some hoops just to keep my word to a friend... I'm so glad I went, because it was a wonderful night, but OMG... I could have done without the traffic, injuries and illegal acts to get there. Just sayin'.
The rest of the night was pretty uneventful, it was a great night, but I hung up my doofus gloves for the remainder of the evening. The older I get, the more I realize how much I enjoy laughing at myself. Maybe this is the beginning stages of senility. Old people aren't nuts, they just realize how ridiculous it is to care about how you look and what everyone else thinks. It's much more fun to just enjoy the humor in it.
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