After receiving a hair shortening at Winston’s Barber Shop, from an employee that didn’t smell funny (like last time) at that, errands were the name of the game on Saturday. There was cat food to be picked up, inkjet paper to be purchased, and free advance screening tickets to Cloverfield to be found.
All three tasks should have been very easy, and they might have been if it hadn’t been me performing the tasks. The cat food was easy enough, even though Feline Rescue had a bunch of adorable kitties on display at the Roseville PETCO. The inkjet paper was fairly easy too, even with the inherent creepiness bestowed upon every OfficeMax. Any guesses as to which task gave me some trouble?
Picking up tickets to the virally hyped Cloverfield should have been a walk in the park. As you can see from this City Pages page, all I had to do was walk in to Jay’s Cafe and be done with it.
The day before my errands (that was a Friday, but it doesn’t matter), Google Maps helped me find the location of Jay’s Cafe. One block north of University, first cross street east of 280, at the intersection of two “T” named streets. As it turns out, my information on these “T” streets was very incorrect. There was a “Territorial” nearby, but that was it.
After circling around, going up Raymond (the first cross street east of 280), down some other street, around and around, I found nothing. Eventually, with frustration in my fingers, I drove my car to Roseville for my other errands.
Following my consumption of cat food and paper, I got a little help from my mom over the phone in locating Jay’s. I had passed Jay’s Cafe at least four times in my search for it. On Raymond, which doesn’t begin with a “T,” there was a black awninged cafe. This was Jay’s Cafe.
I had been out and about on errands for about three hours, so I was a bit hungry. I figured I’d have a bite to eat at Jay’s Cafe so I wouldn’t feel guilty about grabbing some free tickets for my friends and me. After parking on a non-metered street about a block away, I rounded the corner and saw the tiny awning that introduced Jay’s to the few smart enough to look for it.
As I entered Jay’s Cafe, things happened in a panic. My first observation was that the cafe was very tiny. As a guess, I would say there were about 16 tables in total. And, wouldn’t you know, tables were packed. With all the time I wasted while looking for Jay’s Cafe, it had reached the lunching hour. And, finally, I could spot only one staff member in this tiny restaurant.
To the observer, I might have looked like a bird caught in a screen porch. I fluttered in, panicked for a few moments, and fluttered out. Crippling anxiety couldn’t bring me to bother the one server in a packed cafe for tickets to a movie. I was defeated.
I phoned my friends and, luckily, left messages. I lied and said the cafe was out of tickets.
How can a tiny cafe have defeated me in such a big way? What did I care if a limited amount of patrons or employees thought that I was a jerk? Would they even think I was a jerk? They obviously agreed to have tickets available to public. Weren’t they the jerks for not having a big neon sign pointing to their free tickets?
These are the ideas that don’t enter my head during self made stress. And so, here I sit with no advance screening passes to Cloverfield. It’s only a matter of time before someone ruins the mystery of the movie for me before it comes out. And whose fault is that? It’ll take the blame for that one.
While 
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