. . . With a Master’s Degree in Dumbassery.
- Guess who left his debit card at Farrell’s. ?Ya know, the debit card he’s using to pay for this entire journey? ?Who didn’t realize it was gone until he landed in Los Angeles.
- Guess who left his tire pump and his Camelbak at a McDonald’s?
I had arrived in Rancho Cucamonga and was about 20 minutes from the AirBNB place I was staying. ?I’d been thinking my tires felt a little low. ?As soon as I got stopped somewhere, I’d break out the air pump and throw a few pounds of air into those bad boys.
Enter from stage right: ?sewer grate that bit the back tire. ?The?back tire. ?Where all the oily gears are.
I walked the bike about 200 feet to a McDonald’s. ?I decided to see if I could fake it — just get some air in it and see if it held. ?(I?hate fixing a flat on the rear tire.) ?I took off my Camelbak, whipped out the pump, and pumped the tire up to 80 PSI. ?I set the bike next to a wall and stood the tire pump and the Camelbak next to it. ?I went into McD’s to get something to drink while I waited a few minutes to see if the tire would hold air.
I checked a few minutes later. ?Yes, it appeared the tire was holding air. ?But I wouldn’t know for sure until I could get to the house, unload all my stuff, and test it. ?I mounted the bike and climbed the worst hills of the day to get to?where I was staying.
As soon as I pulled up into the driveway, I got off the bike, reached around to pick the bike up and set it against the wall . . . and that’s when I noticed the air pump was gone. ?A second later it hit me that the Camelbak was gone, too.
It was a chore to figure out which McDonald’s I’d been out. ?Rancho Cucamonga only had about a zillion Mickey D’s. ?I wasn’t quite sure which street I’d been on. ?I had to look it up in Google Maps. ?Once I figured it out, I called and spoke to a manager there. ?He went outside, found the items, told me on the phone he had them under the counter, and I could ask for any manager when I came back in. ?I told him I’d be back in 20 minutes.
I unloaded by bags into my room and took off for the McDonald’s. ?When I arrived, per instructions, I asked for a manager, explained I was here to pick up some “lost and found” items, that it was under the counter. ?The worker went off to find a manager. ?After nearly 10 minutes (!!!) she came out to say the manager had taken the items with him, but he should be back in the store in another 10 minutes.
“Wait a minute. ?I just talked to him. ?I told him I was coming right back. ?He said he was going to put them under the counter. ?Why on earth would he take them with him and then?leave?knowing I was on the way?”
“I don’t know, sir. ?But he’ll be back shortly.”
“Ok,” I said exasperatedly. ?”I’ll be outside.”
Nearly 20 minutes later the same girl comes out to inform me the manager won’t be back in the store until the next day.
“What? ?That’s not acceptable. ?I’m leaving at 5AM. ?I?have?to have that gear. ?I understand that I was an idiot with leaving it behind in the first place, but why on earth would he take the equipment with him? ?He said he was leaving it here. ?He knew I was on my way!”
“I don’t know, sir. ?But he won’t be back until late tomorrow.”
“Then let me talk to another manager.” ?Of which McDonald’s seems to have lots of. ?There must have been four or five of them . . . none of ’em wanted to look me in the eye.
One lady repeated the line, “He won’t be back until tomorrow, sir.”
I repeated,?”Well, that’s not going to work.” ?I also repeated my leaving at 5AM thing and that I needed that equipment.
“Well,” she started, “he hasn’t been in the store all day.”
“What? ?If he hasn’t been in the store today, then who did I talk to that identified to me?the items he was holding in his hand.” I said.
She said, “It was left here last night. ?He didn’t want it damaged, so he took it with him when he left last night.”
“I wasn’t here last night. ?I was here about an hour ago. ?I talked to someone about 20 minutes after my visit. ?I was here on that bicycle right over there.” ?I pointed to the window.
Another?manager piped in. ?”Oh! ?You’re not the one we’re talking about!” ?He goes over to the counter reaches under it, and produces my pump and Camelbak, to the confused looks of everyone — including me.
The manger who got my stuff said, “There was someone last night who left a big pink bunny. ?That’s who we all thought?you?were. ?The guy looking for the bunny.”
I thanked him for the stuff, apologized for leaving in the first place. ?He apologized for the mix-up.
Jeez, I felt like I was about ready to have Jack, Chrissy, and Janet walk into the McDonald’s only to confound Mr. Furley again . . .