Burgers and lies

Good morning/late morning/lunchtime/afternoon/dusk/evening/middle of the night, everyone. How am I supposed to know when you're reading this? Anyway, welcome to another installment of UOPTA. No, that doesn't stand for "Urologists Of Poland Try Anything," but that's still very helpful to know if you find yourself in that specific situation. (Thanks to my mom for that UOPTA offering. Send in your own version to ptklein@gmail.com.) No friends, UOPTA is a place in which I convey my thoughts and tell stories that somehow came to mind recently. Let's jump right in, shall we?

When I was in that bowling league for a few seasons recently, I enjoyed almost all aspects of it. However, one thing pissed me off for the first two or three seasons that my friends and I belonged. In the final week of the season, they dispensed the prize money to each team. With the money they had left over, I expected some kind of game to decide who got what. I've heard of people getting playing cards for each strike and then forming the best poker hand to win, for example. Well, in this league, it amounted to a guy behind the counter calling out his friends' names and saying things like, "Hey Joey, pick up that spare and you get $10." My friends and I kept a pretty low profile compared to some of the other participants, and so we weren't as known and never got our names called. That angered me, since everyone put in the same amount of money and I never got a real chance to win any of it back.

Therefore, I was quite pleased when they changed their method a while back. The new one was a combination of two parts chance and one part skill. There were raffle tickets (chance) that yielded prizes, and a few scattered non-white pins in the mix. If you got a pin of color as your head pin (chance), you had to get the front desk's attention and then bowl a strike to win $10 (skill). I liked that a whole bunch more, and I had the good fortune of winning one of those raffles. I waved my ticket in the air like a moron when they called my number before proceeding to the front desk. I was presented with a few options: a lottery scratcher, a $5 gift card to Starbucks, or a $5 gift card to In-N-Out. I quickly assessed each one. Oh sure, the scratcher would've added some drama to the experience, but I'd be kidding myself if I thought it would turn into more money. Starbucks is good, but I've also had a Starbucks gift card in my wallet for...I have no idea, so that probably wasn't too practical. In-N-Out has some mighty tasty burgers, and even though I don't go there very often, it would be worth a special trip to redeem my prize. I snagged it and made my way back to the lane. A few minutes later, my homey Rockabye's number was called, and he made the same wise decision as I had.

I held onto my gift card for about two weeks before happily pulling into a nearby In-N-Out. I ordered my Double-Double (pickles, "the spread," and grilled onions) and waited my turn in the line of cars to get to the pick-up station. When I got there, I noticed a laminated sign. Here's what it read:

"60th anniversary October 22nd Discount Rumor:
You may be aware of a rumor about our menu prices being lowered for our anniversary on October 22nd. This rumor is untrue. We’ve always tried to keep our prices as low as possible in order to give our customers the greatest value. One of the ways we accomplish this is by not discounting and our anniversary is no exception. We’re sorry if this rumor has caused any confusion."

That, my friends, is a successful rumor. Whoever originally came up with that fabrication made it so widespread that the company's website and individual physical locations had to address it. I read up on this rumor online, and In-N-Out was supposedly going to go back to their prices from 60 years ago on that day. 30 cents for a cheeseburger, 25 for a hamburger, 15 for fries, and 10 for drinks. I can understand why a rumor like that would get traction, but I have to believe that even the person who created it was surprised by how much it took off. Personally, I'd be quite proud of myself.

I thought of that story because of something that happened at work earlier this week. I was in my office doing my normal stuff when I heard my co-worker Scott say, "Adam from the Beastie Boys is the brother of Screech from 'Saved By The Bell.'" I spit my tongue. "No he's not!" I yelled from my desk, even though I wasn't a part of the conversation at all. I got up and walked out there to confront him. "Yes he is!" Scott said. "Screech and a Beastie Boy are brothers." "First of all, you have the wrong Beastie Boy," I said to everyone who was now listening. "You meant that Mike D. - Michael Diamond - is brothers with Dustin Diamond, who played Screech. But that's not true either." "Yes it is," he said again, and then he started walking over to his computer to "prove" it. "Scott, it's a good story, and one I believed myself for a while. I even told people that amazing piece of trivia. Then I found out it was a lie and I felt stupid for helping spread it." He returned to the main area a minute later and admitted that I was right. "That sucks, because it was a good one to tell people," he said. "I know, I know. Dig a little deeper online and you'll find people saying that they're not only brothers, but that Neil Diamond's their dad." We all laughed for a minute, and then I wowed everyone with my knowledge of the lyrics to "Sabotage" by the Beasties. You never know when that'll come in handy.

I don't know how rumors do it, but the real good ones somehow avoid the whole fact-checking process. Scott is very internet savvy and proved his own piece of trivia false within a few seconds. Why did he skip that step at the beginning? If I thought about it long enough, I'm sure I could come up with a formula of sorts for what makes a rumor good. There has to be a certain amount of plausibility but a much greater amount of over-the-top-ness. Too much of that turns into nofuckingwayness, and then it loses all credibility. I'll stop there, because otherwise I'd just keep inventing terms and forcing relationships between them, and experience tells me that I won't get too far with that.

(By the way, I just typed "gerbil" into Google, and the #2 result was an urban legends site about Richard Gere. These things can really take on a life of their own.)

And with that, let's be both officers and gentlemen on our way over to the Car Watch.

My homey Rockabye saw a plate and initially read it incorrectly. He sent it to me, and my initial read was the same incorrect thought. The plate was, "CLDHNDS." Both of us thought of the completely made-up term, "Cloud hands" before we realized that "Cold hands" made a lot more sense. Cloud hands would look really, really cool though, don't you think? Ooh, especially if they were ominous thunderclouds with lightning shooting around inside of them. Yeah, it would be hard to pick things up or blow your nose, but who's gonna mess with a guy with thundery clouds for hands? (Answer: nobody.)

Next up, I was behind a car with this plate: "TQLAMAN." I'm guessing that's short for "Tequila man" and not "To kill a man." It's hard to say which would be a bigger red flag for law enforcement. It's also hard to imagine drinking tequila with cloud hands. I'm just sayin'.

Lastly, my dad sent me a text message that said, "IMNAKED." I was scared at first, but then I put on my thinking cap (which I keep nearby at all times just in case) and figured that it was a license plate that he saw. I asked if the driver was indeed sans apparel, but he said that he wasn't. Here's one of the few cases in which I prefer a blatant lie.

Ok folks, that's it for me. Have one hell of a weekend and week, and have a good Memorial Day. I'll be back next Friday with more typographical characters. In the meantime: Happy anniversary today to our friends Danielle and Jesse. Happy half-birthday to my lovely wife's half-sister tomorrow. There's something almost poetic about that. And this Wednesday's a big one, folks. It's not only my high-anticipated 11/12ths birthday, but it's also our friend Adam's birthday and our favorite niece Hayley's 1st birthday. She's adorable, so you should all wish her a happy numero uno. Be happy and healthy, friends.