I was utterly pissed off at work tonight: pissed no one was there, pissed the other server got to go home early after taking the one table we'd had all night (we switch off who gets to go home early), pissed I'd cut my finger on a broken champagne flute, pissed it wouldn't stop bleeding, pissed I had to do all the fucking sidework, pissed again that I was working for minimum wage, and then a two top came in and made my night. They were fun, they bought a $75 bottle of wine, they tipped me 20%, and they each wrote "Thank you!!!" (additional exclamation points theirs) on their credit card receipt. It was just like, if I was going to have one table tonight, I'm glad it was them, even though they dawdled over their cheese plate and kept me there til 11 when I should have been cozy at home at 10.
We went to the Vespa shop to get an idea of what we were getting ourselves into two months down the line (which is when we had planned to purchase one) and the sales guy did such an awesome job convincing us that the '79 P200 Piaggio was the best scooter for first-time owners that we told him we would be back on Friday to pick it up. It needs a new paint job and a new seat cover, but I would want to do that to whichever scooter we ended up getting. Plus, he told us it was $2600 firm as is and then we convinced him to throw in the new battery that it needed for free (including installation). Plus plus, it has a luggage rack! Plus plus plus, a bit of online research has shown us that people are selling theirs privately for $3000. So either we're getting majorly screwed or getting an awesome deal. Come Friday (barring any DMV issues) we will be the proud owners of a vintage Vespa. That, in addition to my status as a former McSweeney's intern, makes me the coolest person on the planet.
