"...as I sat there on the B train the excitement of Cotto's revenge and my free night at The Garden turned into the realization that I'd been left to buy three tickets..."
Cotto (Left)/Margarito (right):
From Cotto/Margarito I:
Sweet drunk talk. Is there any better kind of talk? Especially amongst new friends made. And Jules called me brother. I liked that.
It was only on the subway back to Brooklyn that I began to clear my head and mentally review my arrangement with Jules. We didn’t need to be at The Garden ‘til 9:00, so he and Buttons went back to their hotel for a nap. Being the New York investigator, it was left for me to find us three tickets on-line.
Cool.
But in my drunken excitement I overlooked a fundamental defect with our plan. Mainly, that I was left to buy the tickets. At least initially. How I was to be reimbursed was never really locked-in as one drink led to another. Course anything could happen in the five hours before the fight; so as I sat there on the B train the excitement of Cotto’s revenge and my free night at The Garden turned into the realization that I’d been left to buy three tickets based on the promise of a stranger.
Still, I went on-line to find three tickets. And it wasn’t easy. I mean, sure there were tickets: $300.00 apiece; $500.00 apiece; $2500.00 apiece. The fight had been sold-out for a month. The cheapest three I could find together were $150.00 each, which still meant almost $500.00 on my card after taxes and fees and whatnot. I picked up the phone.
“Hey sweetie.”
“Hey Buttons," I said, "did I wake you?”
“Naw we were just fooling around.”
“Oh, okay. Great,..so listen--you really want to go to this fight tonight, right?”
“What?!--Yeah, of course we do. Why?--what’s the matter?”
“Welll, its just that,...you know. Like I was saying at the bar, tickets are really expensive so I just want to make sure you want to do this and weren’t just...I don’t know, caught-up in the moment.”
“Naw Lodo, we wanna go--you betcha! Cotta! Cotta! And we’re buying your ticket so get us some good seats.”
“Well, yeah, okay. But good seats are gonna be very...do me a favor, put Jules on the phone.”
So Jules got on the phone and I brought-up my concerns: the limits of my credit card and how even the cheapest, most nose-bleed seats were gonna cost $150.00 each. I told him I didn’t care one way or another if I watched the fight on TV or at The Garden and suggested that he take Buttons on his own or that we all go to a bar or...
Yet no sooner had I made this last point when Jules interrupted me saying,
“Now Lodo, you know that’s not what we talked about. I told all my Mexican buddies I’m going to Madison Square Garden to see this guy Margarito and from what you’re saying it sounds like you’ve found us some real nice tickets. So here’s what you need to do. You got a pen? Okay good, now here, write this number down...”
Jules proceeded to give me a credit card number. Expiration date. Provided an address and gave me the name the way it was written on the credit card. Cool, right?
Only the name on the card wasn’t Jules. Not that I knew him for any period of time; nor did I assume Jules was or had to be his real name. Still, the name he provided for the card didn’t even approximate Jules; and the city address and zip code didn’t match the area code of his cellphone number.
But whatever--right? So long as the card worked. Plenty of possible explanations; and besides, Jules is a grown man. He’ll do as he sees fit. He didn’t just offer to take me to The Garden--he said he wanted to take me. Him and Buttons both. So I didn’t want to look a gift-horse in the mouth.
I was more than ready to use that card, and for a few moments I was even tempted to buy those $500.00 seats. After all, hadn’t Buttons instructed me to “get good seats?” But in the end my better judgment caught up with me and I bought us the $150.00 tickets.
Only that wasn’t the end of it. ‘Cause shortly thereafter the ticket broker emailed me a form, requesting that I sign it and return it.
What? I thought to myself. I’ve never had to do that before. Usually you give them a number and they process the card. But the broker insisted that I sign a form (or Jules sign it--or whoever’s name was on that card!) and then email it back to them.
So I felt bad having to get back on the horn with Jules, but seeing as how the broker wanted a signature it just seemed like Jules should...I don’t know, just take things over and buy the tickets himself.
But no, Jules said he “didn’t like to send emails” and besides, he was “more than fine” with my signing his name on that form.
“Yeah Jules, but it doesn't even seem like your name I’d be signing.”
“Oh sure it is Lodo--you know me as Jules but I’m really ____ ________. Just make the ‘H’ very pronounced and then the rest of the name is just a squiggle.”
Umm hmm. So I’d sign and email the form to the broker using my email address for over $500.00 worth of tickets. The investigator in me wasn’t crazy 'bout that arrangement, though I quickly chastised myself for thinking the worst of Jules.
But later, when Jules insisted I go to the ticket window to pick-up the tickets, I got the feeling he had concerns about showing his face.
Or what might be waiting there.
* NOTE: Due to the length of this post, I'm going to split this into another part. Part 4 should be done in a few days.
* ADDITIONAL NOTE: All pics of Cotto and Margarito stolen off Google Images.
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar