A few months ago, Bobby caught wind that the band Nickelback was coming to Merriweather Post Pavillion, which is a fifteen-minute drive from our apartment. Bobby and I are not huge fans of most rock music to come out in the past few years, but we do like Nickelback a great deal, and so Bobby went ahead and purchased two lawn seats for us and put the date on the calendar.
All week, we looked forward to Thursday because Thursday was the date of the concert.
(I'll bet that some of you clever ones have caught on to what happened already. Nonetheless, this failure is too profound to pass up recording in the annals of my personal history.)
So Thursday we both arrived home, got our lawn blanket, and went for a quick supper at Taco Bell. We arrived at Merriweather about an hour before the show was to start. Oddly, we were the only ones there.
I pulled out the tickets. Yep. The concert was Wednesday and not Thursday at all.
Naturally, we were pretty pissed, so we drove back to the apartment, where Bobby checked the calendar and saw that, yes, we had written Wednesday on the calendar yet somehow convinced ourselves that the show was Thursday.
Being an optimist and not wanting to spend the night at home writing web code on the computer (which I have been needing a free evening to do for some time now), I suggested that we try not to make the evening a total bust. So we checked out what movies we might see. Bobby has wanted to see Pirates of the Caribbean again, so we looked through the list of showtimes on Fandango.com and found one that fit our schedule and planned to go see it.
We got into the car and were a few minutes down the road when we realized that neither of us remembered which of the three theaters we'd checked was showing the movie.
So we turned around, went back to the apartment, and verified where we were going. We both agreed that we had failed on profound levels that night.
Incidentally, I guess the gods had enough of amusing themselves with our ability to turn simple dates and places into complete and utter failure and decided to cut us a break. When we got out of the theater, there was a pretty spectacular thunderstorm about to commence. We got home, parked, and were standing in the parking lot when we heard it coming: the roar of rain. Hard rain. Sheets of rain loud enough to hear from several yards away. We both looked at each other, blurted, "Oh shit, run!" and hightailed it for the doorway. We made it a few seconds before the drenching rain hit.