In high school, my long term planning included a lot of trust in things working out somehow, which often times would leave me incredibly inebriated in places quite a trek away from my home bed and with no personal form of transportation to get there with. I actually used to hitchhike a bit, and got picked up one time by the railroad tracks in downtown Keysville by a cop, who gave me a ride and made me sit up front, me already partly drunk and with a backpack full of beer and about 16 or 17. He played it cool at first, but then he started asking me about an old couple that got murdered. Like no shit, I don't even remember hearing about that, but the cop was seriously asking me if I knew anything about a double murder. In retrospect, I have to assume he was on a Superbad/Super Troopers kick, just trying to fuck with me, and I was already too fucked up to realize it. Even if I wasn't though, I would've been too nervous to ask a cop if he was fucking with me.
Nonetheless, even after cutting back on hitchhiking after the cop ride, I would end up way away from home in a crooked ass state of affairs. One night, mega-crooked, I bummed a ride home from a homeboy's girlfriend, who I had secretly had a crush on forever, even though she seemed pretty high maintenance. She was still a decent looking girl who did drugs and had sex, and came from a family with more money than mine, judging by the house they had and the car she drove. But she was my boy's girl, so I wouldn't ever fuck with that, because as degenerate and out of control as I've been in my life, I'm still a loyal ass motherfucker, to a fault. So she's giving me a ride home, like 20 miles, and I probably pass out close to right away (she knew where I lived already). She had put in The Steve Miller Band's Greatest Hits, and was singing full voice along with every song. I was passed out, but in that halfway state where you're catching a ride home with someone so you try to keep yourself halfway cognizant to make sure they know the back roads well or are prepared for sketchy spots where cops lurk at night. I laid there in the passenger seat, head all tilted sideways, stuffed between the head rest and seat belt strap and window, listening to her sing really loud because she figured I was out, or was trying to wake me up, or something. Man, I straight up fell in love with that chick that night. Straight up, one of those strong fleeting loves that only happens like once every six months instead of that normal three times a day fleeting love. Of course, it never would've worked out between us, but it was nice while it lasted, once I got home and stumbled upstairs to my bedroom. And oddly enough, that high school chick sort of looked like Edie Brickell, in a way. Or it's just the jumbled sexual singing desires of me all lumped together back then.
No comments:
Post a Comment