Friday, April 10, 2009
Lets get drunk and go driving... in the airport.
Like R. Dicks (are huge) today, I was also trapped in an airport. Not drinking hooch, but having a malted for breakfast with my sober half. The gentleman behind me, and I use the term loosely, sporting a large craggy beard and some NASA gear was recounting glory days of living in Panama city driving around drinking miller out of coffee and pop cups. The stories devolved into his being at a diner during his friend's wedding weekend. His friend apparently passed out in his eggs, having in the end to be awakened by police. More drunk driving ensued.
Now friends, I like drinking and I don't condone drinking and driving on accident. But reveling in its exploits-- those people give us drinkers a bad name.