What a Night.

Katie and I have been really busy the last few months, her with nursing school and me with a new position at work. We couldn't remember the last time we'd gone on a solo date and decided last week that tonight would be the night. We picked Uchi as our restaurant of choice, and I made reservations well in advance to be sure we'd get a table at Austin's highest rated restaurant.

Katie freed up her schedule from a prior commitment so that we could have the evening to ourselves, and I left work early to be sure we wouldn't feel rushed. She looked beautiful, and I prepared as best I could for the "he-must-have-a-lot-of-money" looks I get whenever we go out. On our way out the door we both commented on how much we had been looking forward to the date, and it brought back memories of our first dates over five years ago. As my friends Flight of the Conchords say: "Conditions were perfect." (that video isn't for the faint of heart...or my parents)

I didn't think to worry about the few extra turns it took the car to start, nor the slight lag I felt between me pressing the gas and the engine responding. No, it wasn't until the motor completely gave out .5 miles from the house that I realized that, in all of the anticipation of tonight's events, I had completely forgot to stop and get gas.




Idiot.




Adding insult to injury, the car gave up the ghost on a busy road with a dozen or so commuters passing every minute; several of whom honked to remind me that I had, quiet foolishly, parked my car in the middle of a busy road. Quickly losing my patience with the world, I snapped at Katie to move to the drivers seat and steer while I got out and pushed, and in so doing drove a stake into any hope of a romantic date that the gas-less car didn't kill off already.

I wasn't really dressed for pushing a four-door sedan 200 yards up a slight incline, but I'd be darned if that was going to stop me. Waving to the honking passersby, I placed both hands firmly on the trunk of my car and started to push. I could feel the sweat spreading across my dress shirt, leaving a reminder for laundry day of my big mistake.

I was actually impressed with my progress as the car gained some momentum, but once the road sloped into me a little more, my legs gave out and we were stuck again, still in the middle of the road. As I tried to push once more, I noticed an increasingly bright set of headlights getting closer and closer to my rear. "Good," I thought, "someone to put me out of my misery."

When I realized they were stopped behind me, I turned back to wave them around and to give them the stink-eye for gawking at my sweat-covered dress shirt. The pickup driver stepped out of his cab and asked if we'd like a push. I gratefully accepted the offer and he pushed us up the rest of the hill, onto the next on off-road and away from the honking commuters.

With my sweat covered shirt clinging to every inch of my torso, and Katie holding my hand, I made the .4 mile walk of shame back to the house. She tried her best to comfort me, but I could tell she was really sad about the lost opportunity as well. I almost cried.

We went to a local sandwich place and then on to Super Target to get supplies for Sophia's stay with us this weekend. We probably won't have another free evening like that until after December, and I still feel awful about how it. I guess we'll go to Uchi in January, and by then this will be a funny story.