So I'm really getting into the English Premier League. So much so that I decided not to shut myself in this Memorial Day (thank you to all who paid the ultimate sacrifice in representing America) because there was what is called the Playoff Final between two teams named Middlesbrough and Norwich City. Those two teams were the finalists from the Football League Championship, the AAA/second class of English football. The winner of that game gets to be the third and final club promoted to the EPL. It's important because the winner gets a piece of the huge television contract and the loser, well, gets League Championship contract money, which is significantly worse. It's dubbed "The Richest Match In The World" for that reason.
So you can tell there is a hell of a lot at stake. That convinces me that watching the game wouldn't be the worst thing to do in the world. It'd be a great way to enjoy a weekend morning ... but last night I checked the time and realized I had the date wrong. It was today, Monday, at 9 Central. I was debating last night whether to sleep in and hermetically seal myself because I didn't need to go out today. That way I would neither use gas with either of the cars I am using right now nor spend any money from my wallet, both of which I have done daily since my old car blew its head gasket. I even stacked the deck towards that by staying up past 4, something I haven't done in months.
But in the end ... well, YOLO and shit. I might as well spend some money hanging out in downtown Minneapolis and enjoy some soccer with like-minded footy fans. So what if I only got 2 1/2 hours of sleep? Wasn't tired, by the way, and I was easily able to find a place to park (thank goodness nobody needed to do anything downtown this Memorial morning, and Buddha bless no parking meter enforcement on holidays, and by the way!) and walk to the start of the game on time. The place I went to was the only of the two pubs downtown that opened its doors. There was even a guy at the lectern that invited me into the back where the TV was showing the Promotion Game. And there was a guy that said that there's complimentary coffee and water, too! Sweet!
The game was a snoozer; the Norwich City Canaries, which actually finished fourth in the standings as Middlesbrough finished third, scored twice in the first half and won handily. So my attention turned to the dozen or so others who, one by one, came back from the bar with drinks. There were drink specials going on this morning for the game, and I had every intention of getting one. But if there was coffee there to drink for free, hell, I'm drinking coffee. Wouldn't everyone else do the same thing? Apparently not. And pretty soon I think I was the only viewer who did not get a beer or an apple cider or orange juice or anything.
So, as time went full, I was really looking back and forth as to what to do. Once again, I saw myself at a crossroads. I didn't want to look like a freeloader and just skip away after the game was over. Then again, if they wanted me to spend money, why in the hell did they offer coffee for free? I decided on a third way; I would throw a buck at the bar rail on my way out. Yes, that's a lame gesture, especially if no one is there to acknowledge it. But then they couldn't say I just sauntered into the bar to watch a game for free.
The match was over and I had to pee. While walking to the bathroom I suddenly mentally clutched tight my wallet again. Why in the hell do I have to spend money when they offered coffee for free? The act of giving this pub money was going to dictate what I was going to the rest of my day. If I did give them a tip, that meant that my wallet was open all day; might as well go get lunch at Arby's, for example, and then go to Wal-Mart and get Grandmother's friend a phone card so she could talk to her at her home. Don't give a tip and then I go straight home and not open up that front door until I go to work Tuesday morning -- it'll be boring as hell, but at least I would be saving money. Decisions, decisions. ...
So I piss and I head out, right hand at the ready to reach in and grab my wallet. In retrospect I guess I was looking for one thing: Either one of the two nice gentlemen who greeted me to look at me on the way out. If they saw me, I would feel guilty enough to throw a dollar. But as I walked past the group of Roma fans there to watch the game after the Promotion Game, I didn't see either of them. In fact, all the workers at the pub were too busy getting ready for the football fans of the Serie A game and/or Twins fans who want to stop in for a drink before the Memorial Day game against Boston at Target Field. With each ensuing step, in fact, I was more confident that I could walk out of there without paying money nor feeling guilty about not paying money.
And then I opened the front door and walked out and ... did I just walk out of a pub without paying any money??? I was walking away with my palms heavenward like, "Shouldn't I go back in there and give some money? Did anyone catch me? Are they pissed off? Will I ever be able to walk back in there ever again?" None of those questions, of course, compelled me to turn around. I just went to my car, prayed that karma isn't going to get me into an accident (I drove my parents' minivan to the pub), and here I now am, stomach filled with the rest of the Quizno's lobster salad sandwich I bought yesterday so I wouldn't have to buy anything today.
And now I really don't know if I can walk back in there. I have been in that place before. Great pub to watch soccer. I was there last week, in fact, even though I was wandering around and the bartender thought I was walking away from my tab. Well, that along with what I did today may complicate things, come to think of it. I'll have to go back there because apparently they are the ones that will be open all mornings, even holidays. Well, I'll just walk up and immediately buy some food. Let them know I want to give them my business -- a day besides today.
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