June 18th 4:21pm - Designated Drunk Driver

Yesterday a friend and I initiated our intoxication by inhaling 100-proof Captain Morgan Rum at 4pm while at the movie theater. 100-proof C Mo to me equates shoes to Fergie. I'm obsessed with it like I'm obsessed with small children. 

After the movie we enhanced our libation at a variety of bars and were eventually joined by a slew of friends. After midnight everyone dispersed. In retrospect, selling my car was a bit preemptive, like orgasming while exercising. 

My earlier drinking companion offered me a ride home. I accepted with the graciousness of Princess Diana. It wasn't until Drunkard deviated from his lane seventeen times and was swerving like a drunk giraffe that I comprehended how boozy he was. 

"Damn, I wish I knew how to drive stick shift because I am drunk but I feel I could drive staying in the lines," I told him, "You'll definitely have to teach me how to drive stick soon!"

We were on a relatively windy, relatively dangerous two-lane two-way road. He stopped his car.

"I'll teach you right now!" Drunkard said, a smile adorning his face reminiscent of the light atop a Christmas tree. He exited the car.

"What? What the hell are you doing? We're in the middle of the road! Get back in the goddamn car!" I shouted out the window. 

"What? No. You had a good idea! I'll teach you to drive right now!"

"Oh HELL no! Number 1: You're drunk. Number 2: I'm drunk. 3: We're in the middle of the road and a car could easily come along and hit us. 4: We're almost to my house. Let's just get there. 5: You can teach me tomorrow or something. 6: Get the fuck back in the car!"

Drunkard laughed and opened my door. "Come on! Get in the driver's seat! I'll teach you," he said, grinning and gripping my car door to stabilize himself so he wouldn't fall over. 

"You drunken fool! Get back in the car!"

"Come on, I'll teach you. It's not that hard," Drunkard informed me.

This exchange continued for another four minutes before I convinced him it was in fact a better idea that he drive the remainder. 

"You're such a good driver though! You're the best driver I know. You're so in control of the vehicle. You could be a racecar driver. Show me those skills!" were the deciding sentences.

"I am like a racecar driver!" Drunkard announced.

The next morning he remembered walking out of the bar but not the drive home.