The WDR crew are known for their late night proclivities, at least by their associates. We essentially believe that the day doesn't start until at least 3:30 pm, which for me at least means that Pardon The Interruption is over on the West Coast, so I can now accomplish whatever shit I need to do. This allows us to extend our night time activities until the wee hours of the morning, which means some time before 5 in the morning. Anything after that, well, that's just pushing it.
As such, we tend to get late night munchies, and not due to any other merrymaking activities [cough]. If you're really hungry, nothing sounds better than a pizza at this hour. It's hot, it's got the finest meats and cheeses, some vegetables (and fruits, because the 2/3 of us that aren't crazy love the pineapple on our pizza)--hell, it's the food pyramid in easily digestible form, plus there is plenty of it to go around.
So one late night when we're hanging together, not engaging in any other mirth-making activity [COUGH COUGH], we get a craving for some pizza. We end up calling for a pizza, only to find out that the location of the store near my house had closed down, and for some reason the phone number went directly to another store in our town. Fine, we find this out, and we order a pizza, and ask to deliver the pizza. SORRY! We don't deliver to your location (yet you accept my phone call...)! Fine, whatever, we'll go look for something else.
At this point, we hit the road, mainly because we're bored and the car at least provides movement, which provides the illusion that something is happening. We look around for other pizza places, but since it's late night, most of them are closed. We decide, fuck it, we're going to the place where we placed an earlier order, and we'll just order carry out. Now this is where things get stupid.
We pull into the parking lot and about to head in through the door when one of the employees comes rushing out and saying "No, we're closed". We are confused, because all the lights are on, and THERE'S A BIG FUCKING SIGN THAT SAYS "OPEN". We then get an explanation saying that late at night, they close the restaurant to patrons because of "safety concerns". But delivery is still available. Of course, we mention that was EXACTLY what we had asked for before, but we were too far away (keep in mind, this is Salem, OR, and "too far" means the difference between 2 and 3 miles away). I'll let this all sink in for a second.
I figured, what the hell, must be a Salem kind of thing. I mean, we're used to dealing with unnecessary shit like this. We didn't realize that this was part of a national trend until we went to hang out with Patches O'Hoolihan up in Port Land, and attempted to purchase a pizza there (while not engaging in any festive activities [COUGH COUGH COUGH]) past 10 pm. We were promptly informed that carryout was unavailable, but that they could deliver to Patches's apartment...two blocks away.
So let's sum things up: You will not allow people to come into your own place of business, where you control all factors--you have security cameras, bright lights, a phone that can call help, witnesses, etc. But you will send out an employee to any fucking where, where they have no control of the situation, and could be raped and murdered for all we know. Again: total control, or no control whatsoever.
Yes, this makes perfect sense.
