Once upon a time, I was living in Austin Texas. Recently I enrolled myself, at greatly discounted rates, into the membership of one Paste Magazine. "Signs of life in music, film, and culture" is there mantra. In an addition to the immense blessing of partaking in their paper production, I shortly thereafter received an e-mail inviting me to a free concert showcasing the many talents of the great Mates of State. Although it was received only one day in advance, I was able to make space in my empty schedule to go.
Driving in downtown Austin was foreign to me, although the atmosphere had the appearance of a country-less version of Nashville, which encouraged me. I found parking open on a Thursday night beside a sing reading "Fri-Sat. $5:00." This is not the stroke of luck or providence it appears to be, so you have been warned. Did I mention I was alone? Yeah, for those of you who don't know but were wondering, concerts, like other social outings, are way more exciting when experienced solo. I mean, sure your friends are fun, but in reality they are sucking the enjoyment out of sitting through three bands you've never heard of.
And a guy kept picking up this Asian chick who did not want him to do so. A few less beers would have made this obvious to him I assume. I will give him the benefit of the doubt, that it was the beer, and not social awkwardness and general creeper status that made him so in this event.
When the last band ended, everyone left. I stood around awhile, then finally asked the door guy, "When is the last band going on?"
"They're setup on the outside stage, probably already getting started."
"Oh. Ok, thanks."
Apparently I am supposed to realize that there is basically another venue out back, and the show decided to move there spontaneously. They were good. I wish I was closer. I wish it wasn't so crowded. I wish that every couple-based band Emily Shinkle introduced me to didn't talk about their liberal political endorsements from stage. What a joy kill.
I was satisfied, I had salvaged the almost lost concert. I was happy to get back to my car though.

Wait.

Were is my car?

So yeah, apparently in layman's terms "Fri-Sat" means "whenever we find it lucrative." The guy in the gas station didn't understand me. I had already paid him for parking before he caught on to the fact that my car had already been parked for some time and was now lost into the Bermuda Triangle of a parking lot he owned. He gave me a number to call.
The guy on the other end seemed sympathetic, surprising for somebody in his line of business. But here I am, relatives from in town are out of town. I don't even have enough money to my name to pay the couple hundred dollars keeping my ride caged in somewhere in the state. I don't even have cab fair to get there.
I did have one thing. I had the number of a friend who was nice enough to help me get to my car and get it out. What a saint. Oh, how I love having Christian friends! Their moral values and intense personal care for one another is quite reassuring in such circumstances. Without this one, I would probably be living homeless in downtown Austin, begging concert patrons for change and searching the gutters for half-smoked cigarettes.
So I got a ride, the gate was opened, and I drove home.
At 3am.
Moral- pay the $5 to park in the lot.

Concert- $0
Ticket- $195.00
Having a friend to get you out of insurmountable circumstances- Priceless