Scruffy old gent cringes at the screeches coming from the Ladies can. He reaches into his old gig bag and feels around under the bodhran: "no, that's not it," as he passes by a set of spoons and a shaky egg. "There it is," he says as he pulls out his cell phone. "Hello, Auto Club? Can you get a truck with a winch out here? Where? I'm not entirely sure this place has an address...well, never mind..."