2:32 PM, Jan 12, 2006 
Phones and Drums
Lately, my phone has been ringing about half the times anyone has called, and just going straight to voicemail the other half. In the latter situation, the phone, like a college student startled awake, would about forty minutes later, announce that I have a new voicemail from earlier, asking me where I was. So, I ordered a new phone this week, and it arrived yesterday. Because Sprint's website doesn't advertise any phones that aren't one of the three following things: a camera, a PDA, or a flip phone, I wound up ordering the exact same model I had before, called LaKesha at customer solutions, and within a couple minutes, had the account switched over to the new phone.
This morning, I got up, did my thing, and hopped on the bus down to the Plaza, to get all my phone numbers transferred from the old to the new phone. While I was waiting for the bus at 13th and Wyandotte, some guy approached me and asked if I had a light, for the half-finished cigarette he had found in an ashtray. I told him I did not(I did not.). When the bus came, we both got on. I got in the back, and he sat in the front. When the bus had reached 31st, I had pretty much forgotten about him, until I saw him frantically jump off the bus, leaping at a discarded, but still lit cigarette, lighting his own with it. It was a pretty sobering moment.
I got off the bus when it got to the Plaza, and walked over to the Sprint Store, and found that it was gone. I used another swearword, and called my brother, who, with the benefit of the internet, informed me that there was another Sprint Store in Westport. It was a beautful day, and I had my x5, so I queued up an album, and walked through Mill Creek Park, and up JC Nichols/Broadway, up to Westport, where there was indeed a functioning Sprint Store. I was informed that it'd take about thirty minutes, so I went and got lunch, and tried a delicious Whiskey Stout at McCoys, and waited at the corner of Westport and Mill for about forty minutes for the next 51 bus to come by.
My aforementioned brush with poverty ends tonight at 2 AM or so, when I get paid. Out of spite, however, I'm going out tonight, with Geoff and Erp, over to the Drum Room, the brand-new old bar in the newly reopened Hotel President at 13th and Baltimore. Allegedly, they aren't serving any food yet, so at the moment, it's just a bar, and as far as I know, the only business of its kind in Kansas City, as all bars are under an asinine restriction that states that a certain minimum portion of their profit(usually half), be generated from the sales of food. The city, however, is in asslicking mode with Hilton, who restored and reopened the beautiful old hotel, so they're apparently overlooking the fact that the kitchen isn't "ready," yet.
After enjoying a couple of drinks in spite of silly laws spawned by religious fanatics, we'll be hopping on the casino bus to Harrah's, to see Even Flow, a Pearl Jam Tribute band play their instruments. It's shaping up to be a nice little Thursday.
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