I was having a wake-up beer before going to job interviews and completely wasting those peoples time. I don't think I would have taken a job if they asked me, but the way I behaved nobody was going to ask me. I had no direction and no one to steer me in any specific direction. I was living in the moment. Which means sitting on the porch until drinking until sunrise and then trying to scrape together enough gas money to get across town.
One of these nights, while almost through our first case of Yuengling, me, Gabe, and Billie decided to go to the mecca of Southern late night cuisine: Waffle House. If there is a Waffle House in the town you currently live you are truly blessed. Might I suggest scattered, smothered, covered, topped and capped.
Anyway, Gabe got behind the wheel, he was the that special kind of drunk when you are a better driver. Billie got in the front passenger seat, she's a girl and they always seem to get that privilege. While I decided that I would ride the 8-10 blocks on the roof of Gabe's early 90's Corolla. I was holding on to the sides where the windows would have been and facing the oncoming traffic like a spear flying in an ancient battle. The ride went off without a hitch. I don't even remember being scared.
However, when we pulled into the parking lot, with me still on the roof of course, there were two police cars parked next to each other. Immediately, we all thought that we were busted and were going to jail. But, the cops didn't even seem to notice us go by. They were embroiled in an intense conversation about whatever the hell cops talk about and they wouldn't have noticed if I was on fire riding on the roof of the car.
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