Well not really. The more important story is my friend E. is getting married in a week. Okay, well… so we’re up at the spot and drinking like madmen and madwomen. We’re joking around, me and E. I’m in his face like I’m gonna fight him. This dude, he sees this. He thinks it’s the real deal. In a split second, he pops me in the mouth—really hard. Blood everywhere.
You know we were just joking around, right?
No, I did NOT know. Damn. Dude… I am SO sorry.
Ha ha ha ha. That is me typing ha ha’s like I’m really laughing, you know in real-time. It’s cool man. It was a mistake.
Dude, I’m gonna buy you a drink. What do you want?
Just like a Lone Star is good.
No no what do you really like to drink?
Anything is good, dude.
He comes back with a shot of Patrón.
Alright, I’ll take that!
I get in over my head by going out on a 2am bike ride with 400,000 people or so. Is that an accurate count? Hard to tell. Eyes are all blurry. My arm is cut up from another trip to the pit. Cut up just a little. It is a good ride out, out to… fuck… way past 610, out by Galleria. In over head. I’m trashed and wind up in this parking lot looking at maps on my phone knowing I have to leave sooner or later. These dudes are only going further on out. Plus I feel like throwing up. Winding up at a party in this condition is responsible?
God’s will: I make it home.
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