Life Bikes Me In The Butt

Monday was the day
that I was to fix the bike and put it on the road, giving me a means of escaping the maddening crowds of the French Quarter at the end of each evening, removing myself and my tip money to the safety of points unknown to the riff-raff.
I got so far as purchasing an all day bus pass for 3 dollars. This left me 19 dollars.
Then, a tube for 5 dollars and 4 spoons for another dollar. The spoons work as tire irons and as spoons.
Down to 11 bucks and change, I arrived at the Shell Station on Chef Minatour Road, which is way out by the rail yard, to find that the bike was still in the woods behind the store, where I had hidden it Saturday morning.
I wheeled it over by the entrance to the store where outstepped a young Asian looking kid, who eyed me.
I was holding a can of beer (down to 10 bucks and change), which is something which is not sold at that particular store, nor the others owned by the same brood. This may have something to do with the fact that, when I asked him if the air machine was working, he said "No!" I was thankful that I didn't put my 75 cents into it in vain.
I flipped the bike over, preparing to remove the tire and repair it, thinking that I would carry just the tire to the nearest air machine which was working.
"You can't hang around here," said the Asian looking kid.
"I'm not trying to be a dick," he added, as if reading my mind.
It was at this time that I noticed that the spoons were no longer in the bag with the tube. They could have poked their way out of the bag, because there was a tear in one corner; or someone on the bus could have stolen them out of the bag, which I turned my head away from to look out the window quite often. It seems that I would have heard the sound of 4 spoons falling on the pavement, though -probably would have sounded like the Asian kid's name.  They'll steal anything, even a cat...
I pushed the bike with the flat tire still, to the Family Dollar, to get 4 more spoons (enough for a family) for a dollar.
I removed the tire, inserted the new tube, then headed towards the nearest air machine.
This was made easier by the fact that I was unencumbered by my guitar and backpack, which were in the storage area of the library. Weighing upon my mind was the fact that I needed to be back there by 6 p.m. when it closed, in order to get my stuff. They have a sign posted which states that anything left at closing time will be disposed of.
A mile down the road was a tire shop where the attendant let me pump up the tire just to watch it go flat again. Apparently, the tire itself is so bad that it destroys tubes, though I did check it for sharp objects.
I then realised that in all my running around, I had let the time creep past 5 p.m.
I couldn't execute my original plan to ride the bike back to the library to get my stuff. I had to wait on the next bus. I would put the bike on its bike-rack, taking it with me in hopes of repairing it in the Quarter.

You Can't Hang Out Here!

The wait for the next bus became excruciating as time went by. It soon became apparent that there was no way the ol' 94 bus was going to get me to the library in time. I guessed that my stuff would be disposed of and I would be stranded in New Orleans with 4 spoons and a bike with a flat tire. That's alright, I'll stand on Bourbon Street and become the best spoon player that they have ever seen...
I got to the corner of Tulane and Broad at 6:03 p.m. I was so vexed, imagining the sound of my guitar going into the library's dumpster, that I got off the bus and forgot about the bane of my existence, hanging on the front bumper, until it started to pull off, whereupon I had to jump in front of it to stop it. This attracted very little attention away from a guy in hospital scrubbs who was swinging his crutches wildly and yelling something about the United States at that same bus stop (It turned out that someone had refused him a cigarette).
As I thought about my situation over two beers, which put me down to under 5 bucks, I decided that I didn't want to be burdened by the bike in the Quarter and would take the outbound 94 back out by the rail yard and re-hide the bike.
This I did, in a pretty fine spot along the tracks, and then waited for the inbound 94 to go back into town. I figured that I had paid for an all day bus pass and that was about my only resource, aside from four teaspoons, and  I might as well use it.
As we passed the Shell station, I saw someone using the air machine. It seemed to be doing just fine.
Back in the Quarter with absolutely nothing (except the damned spoons) I had a new appreciation for all that I did have. I was pretty sure that the nice security guard at the library wasn't going to cruely throw away my stuff (he's too lazy), and so I had one more beer, ate something and was asleep by 10 P.M.