I suck at driving
I don’t know my way around wilmington. Julia is busy takes long hits off the little bowl she brought with her, while trying to procure directions to cappys house. I’m heading down ?oleander? drive, looking for access to market street, where the next correct step in our trip lies.
I’m not feeling too comfortable. My gas is getting low. I have enough to get around. Its not cause for an immediate concern, but I like to procrastinate, and as such I would like to find my destination before deciding to re-fuel. I’m also High, and my vision is bad from near-nearsightedness. I’ve learned to view every vehicle on the road as a potential threat. Every vehicle as a Cop. Every pedestrian as a gun toting vigilante about to fire at a mugger and mistakenly pass a bullet through my windshield. I want to find my destination.
After searching aimlessly for hours, we decided to call Cappy, who told us we were going in the wrong direction. So we turn around. after a time we find ourselves on market street. Numbered streets counting up. Then, Cappy tells to turn around. This is all quickly becoming VERY convoluted. the numbers should be counting down. we go from 17th to 1st, and hit the cape fear river. Turn around, says cappy. we’re looking for a fast food chicken joint, and a gas station. turn right.
All the while Julia is taking long drags off of her luttle bowl. I wouldnt mind being the passenger in the vehicle. Nonchalantly inhaling pot smoke as someone else worries about the gas, and the rapists, and the sadists, and the guy in the white Kia merging erratically in my rear-view mirror. Not like I mind letting her relax. After all, she has been up for nearly 5 days straight. She recently self-diagnosed herself with Hypomania, a mood disorder that is characterized by an elevated, almost euphoric sense of being, a never ending supply of energy, and lucky for me, and increased sex drive. Dust in the wind. I’ll let her relax, and smoke as much pot as she wants to. As long as we can safely get home.
