Being back in Philly last week was a lot like being on spring break: surrounded by some of my favorite people in the world drinking beer in a (relatively) warmer climate for an entire week. And while being back home for the first time since we moved was tough at times, (I'm not gonna say I didn't call B at least three times throughout the week to tell him I would not, in fact, be returning to Massachusetts, mmmkay? But I'm also not not going to say it either) it was an amazing time filled with family, friends, and just about every Philly favorite I could squeeze into six days.
And on one of these days, there happened to be a long and arduous holiday-themed day of drinking at one of my hometown bars. After a solid four hours of some of my best in-bar flip cup, B asked me to close his tab so we could move on to another bar to have dinner with my parents. This statement alone obviously has good idea written all over it for so many reasons.
The total tab was $21. Now here's where the Yellaphant math comes in. I like to tip my tenders well, and we had gotten more than a few free rounds of drinks that afternoon, so I figured I'd leave a $10 tip. I wrote down the total I wanted charged to B's credit card: $31. But in my fuzzy-visioned state, I wrote $31 on the tip line. This, however, did not occur to me as I started adding those $21 and $31 figures together, and then writing the total of $52 on the bottom line, right on top of my John Hancock. In fact, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that not much was occurring to me in those moments except for the food I was about to stuff my face with.
I walked back upstairs, and as I handed B the receipt, what I had just done occurred to me. I think it goes without saying that B was all "WHAT THE FECK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?!" And I was all "mmm ... drunk?"After a marvelous dinner with my parents and a few more heavy beers later, we were all back at the $31 tip for a $21 tab bar, which also happens to be down the street from my parents' house. After a couple more drinks, I decided that the perfect solution to my re-re tipping situation would be to get the bartender to give me one of their long sleeved t-shirts, priced at $20. And he did.
So I walked right up to B, waved my free extra large shirt in his face and was all "BOOM I'M AWESOME. I can't wait to wear my new shirt" And he was all, "As a dress?" And I was all, "See, problem solved. Do I ever cease to amaze you?" And he was all "Definitely not," cause B's sweet like that.
So what have we learned from this? Math is not my strong suit. Neither is common sense, apparently. But am I awesome at flip cup or what?