Clubbing through unpredictability and rain. (Pt. 1)

“You know it’s 18 and over to get in tonight?” said Frank on the phone.
“No.” I groaned, the little tidbit perturbed me.
More irksome was the context. Frank’s hesitation was apparent. He was bailing on me although he wasn’t admitting it. He’d called me earlier on Wednesday to say he was all in. Now Friday, day of the event, he hadn’t gotten a ticket.
“I’ve got till 6:30 to get a ticket. I’ll get it by then.” He chimed, sensing my suspicion.
I hung up, heaving a sigh. I had my ticket and I would be going reluctantly. Wingman or none.

In some small measure, I was looking forward to hearing Danny Tenaglia. Only he could supply a proper music and dance fix. I didn’t want to go out alone but I’d get by.

Getting home early, I attempted to get some sleep, failing per usual.

Frank called with further unreassuring, protestations of his bailing on me.
“I fell asleep and missed the deadline for tickets!” he whined, unconvincingly.
“Uh, yeah.” I unsuccessfully mocked concern, rubbing my eyes.
“I have an ‘in’ though. I have to be by Crobar before 12:00AM and I’ll get in for free!” Frank chirped.
This is rich. Frank with a time frame. I laughed inwardly.
“I’ll meet you inside. Later. ” I said, hanging up again. If he was fishing for me to pick him up EARLY and drive his ass in EARLY, I wasn’t biting. I flopped back into bed and stared at the ceiling. This was better.

After showering and general preparation, I headed out at 12:30AM. I didn’t bother calling Frank. IF he followed his schedule, he’d be there already. If not, well, he wasn’t.

The rain was falling steadily and plentifully. The gutter surged to the top of the sidewalk and over it. Water cascaded down the driveway as I walked up, finding little deltas in the dark to keep my feet dry.

Driving was precarious. Even at minimal speed, I was driving thru a wall of water, the wipers not working fast enough. The highway entrance was closed, forcing all vehicles to go on the lower street following the raised roadway. Adding to the driving challenge, the road dividing lines blended in to the reflective, rain-slicked blacktop. My fellow drivers and I cautiously stayed abreast, wary of each other’s proximity. *start sarcasm* Such fun. *end sarcasm*

Emerging on the Manhattan side of the Battery Tunnel, the rain had thankfully abated.

I hadn’t even reached the club and my heart was already racing.

By all portents, this was no night for me to be out, yet here I was. Treacherous driving conditions, Frank being Frank, testing my patience and the Gowanus Canal Drawbridge. I hadn't mentioned that yet? Yes, the drawbridge was up. Who the F*CK is driving a boat in a torrential downpour?

I was being tested or I was being warned. Either way, I’d have to wait and see.

(To be concluded, shortly.)