Glass Art, or, Don't Park on the Street

Friday began like any other day. I awoke thinking I was really glad it was Friday, then immediately chastised myself for being that common. Of course, everyone is glad when it's Friday. That's why there is that ridiculously annoying TGIF and the associated restaurant and ABC family lineup.

Little known fact, the phrase was first popularized by the 1978 movie starring Donna Summer, Thank God It's Friday. The phrase has also become common for advertising and promotional materials. On college campuses beginning in the 1970s, the phrase became associated with Friday afternoon beer parties, usually held outdoors. I'll get to that tie in momentarily. The only time I've not been enraged by it's use was in the movie Dragnet when Pep Streebeck says the line "Thank God, it's Friday!" I thought it was fun. I digress.

So, after the rage subsided, I did the normal morning routine of shower, breakfast, banter about life and such with James and the subsequent niceties. Wandering to my closet, I realize I was pret-near out of clean clothes, and the only dress shirt I had left was chartreuse, so donning that bit of spring cheer, I wandered to my car.

The evening before, James and my friend Scottie and I made feeble attempts to upgrade my Verizon cell phone. I have been fighting with Verizon for some time now since I am not eligible for an upgrade until February, but my phone is such a certifiable piece of crap that many of its features no longer work. And by features, I mean the 9 key and the ability to talk on it for longer than 2 minutes without it shutting off.

Keep in mind I have been with Verizon since the mid-90's when my 1989 Red Pontiac Grand Prix (complete with red hubcaps) had a car/bag phone that made me look super cool, ala Zach Morris. My frustration lies in the fact that any new Joe off the street can sign up for two years, and get a new phone, but I, the ever faithful client, can not.

After bitching, and finally threatening to break my contract and visit the nice folks at Altell, I was alerted that I did, in fact, qualify for the "Early Upgrade Program" which is Verizon's completely invented "appease angry customers" faux-program. I knew of its existence because I've had friends use it, and I may or may not have used it to procure the aforementioned piece of crap I am currently using.

So armed with my e-mail from Guillermo at Verizon Customer Service, I went on the mad hunt for a new phone, only to learn that I must order my "Early Upgrade" over the phone, or at a corporate store. Instead of anger, we went to Panda Buffet and made poor choices.

Arriving home, I parked my car on third street across from the county parking ramp. I've never parked here before, but figured what the hell, and went inside.

Fastforward now to Friday morning.

Upon approaching my car, I felt something may be askew. Call it a premonition, or maybe it was the fact that there was glass laying next to my car and my window was busted in. I surveyed... missing iPod. Now I'm just pissed. Is an iPod really worth that much?

I called the police, who informed me that there was nothing I could do, and hoped that I'd learned my lesson about leaving items of value in cars. I, of course, have. The officer gave me a complaint number and wished me luck in finding my stolen "I-Pon" but cautioned me that I'd probably never see it again, and I should prepare to buy a new one.

My next step is to James' scooby-inspired celebrity and a jaunt to my office. I know Apple has a strict policy about iPods. They use the serial number to track how many computers the media player has attached itself too, and of course, limit that usage. They do this to avoid people sharing media and thus allowing people free music. It stands to reason, then, that they could tell me the ip address of the computer my iPod was to connected too, and ergo, the identity. It seemed to me this would make sense to them, by protecting not only their clients but also the fact that I had around 3,000 songs on my iPod, which someone now has for free (I sure hope they like showtunes). I was wrong. Apple refuses to track stolen iPods. They told me "Buy a new one, and thank you for chosing Apple." At this point, I figured the threat to switch to Altell would not impact them as it did Verizon, so my battle was lost.

The light at the end of this tunnel is that my renter's insurance will cover the iPod. The window will not be reported to insurance since the cost is less than my deductible, but thanks to the good folk at Modern Auto Body (my auto body shop of choice in the Grand Cities - this is the 2nd time my car has visited them in about 6 months) we are keeping that cost ultra-low. Throw in an oil change (and the free vacuum that comes along) from Paul and Jay at Odin's Belmont (who didn't give me any shit about the glass they had to vacuum, but chewed my ass because my oil looked like molasses), and my day was looking up.

To celebrate my good fortune, James and I decided to partake in the ambrosia of depressed people, and were in the bar by about 2:30pm. Things did not go well beyond that point. Of course, I had a good time.

However, at one point in the evening my brain forgot to tell my left leg that my right one was moving and I now have an ice pack on my knee and a bottle of ibuprofen (fortunately, I had an ice pack already brewin' in the freezer). I may have had to be carried home, but dammit, all was well with the world.

My new iPod will be here in a week. My car will be out of the shop Monday afternoon. Sean at Verizon hooked me up with my new cellphone which will be here Tuesday. The fantastic folks at Modern let me store my car inside with them over the weekend since I don't have a garage. My hangover wasn't that severe, and all in all, life is good.

For a lasting upside to this whole dramatic situation, we've saved the shattered remains of what used to be my window. They will be turned into art as a lasting reminder to never, ever, park on the streets of Grand Forks.