Greetings and salutations,
There are plenty of stories out there; few of them are good. Most of them are boring as shit - the bad kind of shit, of course, not the good shit. That's such an odd statement. Many people don't use shit there. Instead, they use poor substitutes like sin, hell, or fuck. Exciting things. Everyone loves sin, fucking, all that shit. Even hell, the ultimate in evil, has to be something of an exciting place. Especially if you work there. But I'm changing the subject. This story begins with a car ride.
I was driving my ex-roommate to the train station in Utica. He had to catch a train back to Jersey, and I was his personal savior in this cause. I also figured, what the hell? This guy paid for much of my drunkenness last year. It seemed the least I could do. Besides, there was a bottle of Jack Daniels in it for me. How could I say no?
I realised that this trip would require the penultimate in preparation. Alcohol would be nice. Unfortunately, this was not possible. Caffeine and nicotine would have to substitute. Amongst the things I packed into my 2000 GMC Yukon were two SOBE energy drinks, a decent cup of coffee, about a pound of coffee beans to munch on, an especially annoying butane lighter that chirps, and a couple of cheap cigars I pawned off a buddy. I felt that this would make up for a sleepless night, at least for a few hours. This trip had to be quick, too - I had a class at 10:20 that I had no intention of skipping. Thank God for radar detectors. So, at about 8:20, I pulled up in front of my friend's building, and we were soon on our way.
The drive itself was pretty much uneventful, except when we discovered that neither of us really knew where in the fuck we were headed. We ended up somewhere in the ghettos of Utica. I had no knowledge of there even being a ghetto in Utica. but there we were, driving by closed-down factories and Masonic halls, ever fleeing from the armed civilians surrounding the vehicle. These people do not appreciate the value of such a wonderful truck, especially when you're travelling from Boston to Hamilton, carting your entire dorm room in the trunk.
Anyway, we eventually found a fire station, and asked directions to the station. After retracing our steps and finding the station, I dropped my friend at the station, and hastily made my way back to campus. It was 9:55 when I left Utica - I had 25 minutes to complete a 40 minute drive. I managed to save 10 minutes on the drive, though I could have been faster if I wasn't stuck between two semis that happened to be navigating the backroads of upstate New York.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. I managed to acquire a 30 of Rolling Rock, a 30 of Yuengling, a two-four of Molson Canadian, and a liter of Wild Turkey. I shared the beer with a buddy over the course of the weekend as we watched MST3K, and I spent an entire night drinking the entire liter of Kentucky straight bourbon, then contributed 5 bucks towards an eighth and got stoned with former hallmates. It was a weekend filled with weird experiences, introspective nightmares, and bad movies.
Shit. I'm lost. When I started writing this, I had a specific point and purpose. There was a reason for recalling the events of two long, sober weeks ago. Now, it's all lost. Maybe it has something to do with my finally receiving the Jack Daniels. I don't know. Oh well. I've never really been the one to hoard good things, especially drink. So when I get the bottle, we're going to throw a party, drink it together. Share the good times. After all, they wouldn't be good times if they weren't shared with friends.
Until next time,
Goose
©2004 by Goose
