Masses..and class

So okay, Simpson, this one’s yours..! I’ll try and write it as well as you tell it…and we’ll both peel off for a beer, and decide who’s one up.

Simpson keeps telling us that we are stubbornly middle classed in our beer-addled minds, and no amount of wealth will ever change it. "We-can-never-be-cool!" he pronounces,...and last Sunday, he comprehensively got me.

Here's how it goes for the Classes…wake up Sunday morning generously hung over….shower, shave by noon…call the blokes for a round of chasers…toddle over to the gizmo shop…for a new set of Blaupunkts for the wheels… kill a few beers while good ol’ Mahmud handles the cabling…toddle back…whip out the Amex…tip a few hundred bucks…and go over the club and hit the pool. All in a day’s work.

And here I was… after having shamelessly codged the ol' wheels off my old folks… I couldn’t have a drink on Saturday night cos’ I was so excited about getting a “system” for the wheels. And that wasn't the worst of it. Not by a long shot.

Woke up at six thirty the next day.... twiddled fingers and banana chips until Simpson woke up.. and proposed the following strategy “Haul me over to young Kumar’s under the bridge and let’s get the cheap speakers you’ve been telling me about. Will buy you beer after.” Simpson, of course, agrees to most things that have beer in it… (I think that’s how he got married in the first place…).

We landed up at Kumar’s at about ten thirty on what turned out to be a nice sunny morning….. waded vigorously into a debate about systems… Kumar generally carrying on about tweeters, woofers and whathaveyous, me shaking my head and simultaneously working out impact on my fragile finances, and Simp just shaking his head. We eventually landed on a JVC ("Japanese, sir!) system with no guarantee (“24% discount sir, and of course, there will be no trouble!”)

Simpson vigorously nodding his support, and off we were. Kumar took to his wiring job with a couple of pliers and great gusto, knocked over half the car, but it very satisfyingly looked like a set piece of seriously demanding engineering in about four minutes. Simp and I trundled over to take in by-two chaias and cigs….talking about kimi’s chances in the 2007 season, poked around in the shop looking at mag alloy wheels, and racing steering wheels, basically stuff I could afford when I hit sixty, was divorced and on the right side of the alimony cheques.

Job done, we played a couple of floyd numbers on it… and we were good. “Do you take a credit card?” “Yes sir yes sir.. Only 2% surcharge sir!” This (the surcharge which worked out to 349 bucks) of course blew my financial projections right out the window. Simpson of course generously agreed to ride with me to the nearest ATM and draw cash. Kumar nodded understandingly but sent young Thippu (who doesn't have a major role to play in the story) anyway to keep an eye on us.

We were at the ATM in about forty minutes of breakneck driving (and I mean that-I broke mine on the speedhump on airport road…..and Simp was on the side of the car which didn’t have a suspension). Sweating a little in our Nike tees but then it was noon, and the car’s AC …ummm….it didn’t have one.

I rushed into the ATM….and realized I didn’t have my card with me. Simpson, thoroughly understanding as ever, wiped the sweat off his dripping brow and smiled at me...through gritted teeth “Now what? Use your credit card?”

I, being the middle classed clod that I am, and horrified of paying a "surcharge", of course waved away such rational courses of action, and traveled at rapid pace over to Chet’s who was nursing a beer over the Sunday crossword. At the end of a conversation which had furious pleading on one end and raucous laughter on the other, Chet lent me his card, and we drove to another ATM, while I rambled on about how we’d get this sorted out in no time. Simpson looked me squarely in the eye, “Do you have the code?” “Of course” I rushed off once again.

Simp decided to cool off with some fruit juice, and I was back just as he had the straw in his parched lips. “Umm…I think I have forgotten the code….” Simpson dropping the juice “Call Che-" “…but I kept trying and I think the card is locked now”.

So there we were...on a hot Sunday afternoon......with a fairly simple task of getting some speakers fitted on the car, beer promised at the end of it.......but simply not the way of the wannabe. One surcharge, one lost debit card, one blocked card with seriously pissed-off card owner, an eventually homicidal Simpson and six sunny hours later ....we hit the bar..........."Bagini Bar- Closed for the Afternoon”

Simpson looks at me…" We just weren’t meant to be cool, were we?”