Here's a little advice: If your good friend and date for the night comes to your place and says something like, "Yeah, let's go to the movie! We just need to make one little stop to pick up some Gas X and Pepcid AC," just say NO. Show him or her to the door immediately. If you're feeling very nice, point the poor fool toward a drugstore, but do not go with.
I did that last night, going with Jen to 7-11, where she picked up some goodies and told me a really cute story about her friend's IBS. Then we went to the movies (Failure to Launch, very good, I thought). No!
About halfway through she got up to go to the bathroom. I thought it was just a girl-bladder issue. But when she came back in and was rubbing her stomach, I thought I realized what was up. Two burps with in the next five minutes confirmed my fears. Once again, she jumped up and headed out. Ten minutes later, she returned, only to tell me she needed to haul ass out of there because she was sick. Did I want to stay and watch sexy Mr. McConaughey and lovely Ms. Parker or go with?
It was like Sophie's Choice. I didn't want to miss the movie. I also didn't want to force Jen to drive me north before she headed south. And I certainly didn't want to risk being in such a confined space in case of some sort of ... gaseous explosion. But I also didn't want to deal with finding my own way home from Freeway Central.
So I stayed. And, long story short, wound up sitting in the freezing cold for an hour and 15 minutes waiting for a cab because potential rides were MIA and drunk and the Go-Round bus had stopped running (at 10 p.m. on a Friday. WTF?)
This, added to my late-night BART battle a month and a half ago, makes the score: Bay Area public transportation, 2; TJ, 0. Of course, if I were living in SF and dealing that evil beast Muni every day, the tally likely would be much higher, so I can't complain too much.