geekent’s stuff’n things

Remember the days when you ate at Swiss Chalet simply because your Grandma wouldn’t go anywhere else to eat?
Well, they’ve changed their image and now it’s not just old people and white trash, but everyday people like myself and abnormal people like the freakshow that was there tonight.
Sweet Christmas, tonight the Scwalet, as I’ve taken to calling it (well, no, I actually haven’t, but for now let’s just assume I have) was home to some high stakes card trading… and I’m not talking poker, I’m not talking bridge, I’m not even talking Magic: the Gathering, nor Yu Gi Oh. Nope, these dudes were talking like traders on the stock exchange about nothing but hockey cards.
Yes, hockey cards.
I thought the whole trading card industry died with the comic book speculator market back in ‘94, but apparently not.
These dudes were talking creases and bends and percentage value and sets, all the while they were calculating the value of the trades, saying “here I owe you $300, but if I give you this it’s only $120″ and one of the other dudes would say “but you want to take all my Leafs and I need those for my collection, but if you take this you can sell it easy for 40% and especially if you’re only paying 20%. ” Then another dude busted in and was all “but if you buy all those and sell them at forty then you have to sell all the low-ends for 20%, and you’re really only breaking even.” Then “look, I’ll sell this to you for that, and I don’t care that you’re going to make $200 from it. Do I look like I care?”
And it went on like this. For 20 minutes.
And it had started when we got there. Three guys at the table, one “lady”. The lady got up and left through the emergency exit, looking a little like someone who wanted no part in participating with these gentlemanly rogues of the trading card bidnizz (ha!).
There was guy1, in the Maple Leafs jersey and the “I live with Mom” thinning hair. He was obviously the major player, well, because he had the cardboard box full of the cards. The man beside him, guy2 was wearing an ever so lovely “Cosby” sweater, you know, those sweaters that were fashionable in the 80’s. We’re not really sure what his role in all this was, because he would only pipe in from time to time. Guy3 was wearing a ratty old sports t-shirt, and he had a mullet, stubble and a bald spot, and he we beileve is the buyer (as he was the one who kept saying “so then I owe you $xxx…”).
It was interesting, because as Mullet Guy3 was talking to Jersey Guy1, he kept referring to him as “you guys” which lead me to believe that Jersey Guy1 and Cosby Sweater Guy2 were in cahoots. In fact, I think Cosby Sweater Guy2 may be Jersey Guy1’s protege. Emma, however, believed Cosby Sweater Guy2 to be some sort of appraiser or intermediary.
In any case, the three men settled upon the deal, and decided to ante up for the bill, all pulling out the money clips (stuffed with $5s and $10s I might add… and I know because they said so. I guess they don’t make money clips for Loonies and Twonies.) Then they proceeded to leave through the same “emergency exit” door as Mullet Guy3’s old lady, all heading towards Mullet Guy3’s (quel surprise) pickup truck.
The funniest bit was that all three of them climbed into Mullet Guy3’s extended cab and left the premises, which made me laugh for minutes on end, the fact that not only did they all come together, but they felt the need to stay after their meal at the Scwalet to “do thier deal”.
Guess Jersey Guy1 couldn’t get the Gremlin from his mom for the evening.