#sorry i had frog soju

[todayisafridaynight]

Is it funnier if:

Shishido tunes in to the VTuber's broadcast knowing he'll fume about exposing Kiryu being his idea first

Shishido is already a fan of the VTuber and tunes in as normal only to fume about exposing Kiryu being his idea first

Shishido is the VTuber

SHISHIDO IS THE VTUBER

[kintsugi-sheep]

Orchard: Vaccination Day

I have a co-worker who once told me a phrase someone told her: “Eat your ugliest frog first.”

And considering how I’ve found myself hamstrung this morning, I guess it’s better to frontload my day with my misfortune.

I scheduled my appointment and managed to land it on a day when I don’t have to work. Went to bed earlier than usual for my weekend, even got to sleep in a little with enough time left over to do my morning ritual before making my way to the bus stop.

I don’t usually trust public transportation when I have to make serious appointments. However, the stop nearest to my house would take me directly to the vaccination site where my appointment was set up. And it’s Monday morning, a weekday, the average person’s business day, so I could actually rely on the bus to arrive at the proper time.

The bus did not arrive at the proper time.

A hiccup. Almost inconsequential. Sure, it was a straight shot and the cheapest option, but who wants to ride for forty minutes in blissful silence on a religiously deserted bus down routes almost scenic in the way they’re lined with trees? Not I, the Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority had obviously decided.

Realizing that I’d be even later if I stood around waiting for it, I opted to call an Uber. I remember seeing posters and promotions for Uber recently. Uber has been fully supportive of the mass vaccination efforts. Uber cares about making sure everyone goes and gets their shots. Uber wants you to know that you can rely on them to get you to your designated site.

And at a cost of forty-four dollars, Uber would get you there.

That was a harrowing number to look at. A number attributed to a high rate of the reliable Uber company’s reliable Uber drivers being called. Because they’re so reliable, you see. Still, I needed to make the appointment on time and was willing to bleed myself dry if it meant I could get a ride.

I surrendered my credit card and my firstborn child and the closest Uber driver was on his way. The closest driver actually being over twenty minutes away and in the middle of driving someone else somewhere else.

Even when I’m willing to let myself get robbed, Uber still found a way to screw it up.

Running low on time, my fingers danced across my phone as I reinstalled Lyft. I’m a former user, so set up was nearly non-existent. I was able to breeze into the hub with minimal effort. I remember how I first downloaded Lyft because most Ubers would be operating further into the city when I needed them most. Lyft, conversely, was more spread out.

How much did a ride cost? Around twenty-three dollars. Great. Now I just had to order the ride.

And it took forever to find a driver. I spent a good while watching a little pink bar crawl along the screen, pausing every inch to look up and assure me that Lyft was doing it’s best to find a driver to get me to my destination.

And it did.

My driver was eight minutes away and would be dropping off someone before he came to get me. I rant the numbers and realized I could absolutely make my appointment on time.

If it wasn’t clear already, I was getting antsy. It may seem small, but I rarely make sure to do everything right. I’m perfectly content with waking up in the morning and winging it until I get to work. And on weekends, my Monday-Tuesday weekends, I wake up and wing it with simply being alive.

I’m not a very high-maintenance man. And I don’t expect perfection from others. If someone makes a mistake and I can fix it, I’ll work around it. If something goes wrong and inconveniences me, I can empathize and forgive it.

Usually. But apparently, I was letting this Covid situation get to me more than I thought. So, while crossing and dotting my letters perfectly is an uncommon personal achievement in my eyes, I was really committed to making sure things worked out today. And it would suck to have things screwed up outside of the realm of my control.

I reopened Lyft after a few minutes to see where my driver was. I was greeted, once again, by the crawling pink caterpillar, who said, “Sorry. Your driver had to cancel. We’re looking for another one right now though.”

I canceled the ride, walked home, and talked with a representative about how to go about rescheduling.

I had sometime to think. I was never scared of Covid. I’m a pretty clean guy who makes sure to put his mask on and was socially distancing before it was cool. Nor was I annoyed by it. The metro was empty and quiet, there were no customers staring through our kitchen window while we worked, and the streets were less busy.

I’m not ashamed to admit that my issue was one of luxury. My nearest Korean barbecue is open for dining in and I can’t responsibly go unless I’ve been vaccinated.

No one can stop me from going. If I went, they wouldn’t kick me out either. And I could always order for pick up, maybe even delivery. But Korean barbecue is an experience that is best enjoyed, and this isn’t easy for me to say, socially.

Going as a party of four and ordering enough raw meat for a party of eight. Trying to listen to the huge television but not hearing it over the volume of sizzling pork. Picking off rice or gyoza or kimchi or takoyaki while you wait for your meat to cook. Drinking sake and soju until the colors in the room invert.

That’s the type of thing I want my vaccine for.

I dejectedly went home and ordered some McDonald’s for breakfast. I got an unsweetened tea instead of the sweetened one I asked for.

I’ll close as I opened, with a quote from my co-worker: “Don’t rely on other people. Other people suck.”