I want off my ride (spring break '08)

It's hasn't been tiresome.
Nor exalting,
but the past week or three has been quite the rolling coaster.

(And before I go on, There is only one good song on S.C.I.E.N.C.E.)

Thursday was a terribly long day.
I was at the glorious Reynolds High for over 13 hours for 5+ different activities. I'm not bragging. I don't recommend it. Please don't stay there. Don't do sports, don't get involved, and definitely don't socialize. That will make high school terrible. Trust me.

Thursday, back on:
I'm not paying attention while I drive. I need to buydoughnutsandeatthisappleandcallashleyand it's 7:40am and I'mnotthinkingaboutherherher. And My thoughts literally ran together.
The sad part of the story starts when I rear end ever so softly the lady in front of me.
"The light has turned green," I thought. I'll look down and take my foot off the brake. Whack.
Soft whack.
I didn't hurt her, or myself. I left JUST the imprint of my license plate on her bumper.

Here's where I don't understand my life:
I talked to an insurance agent and Earleen for two days. I was complimented about how I handled the ordeal by both. I clearly made a mistake and was driving poorly. It turned into a Boost-Joel's-ego-fest.
I should have been reprimanded by someone.
I'm Joelarken, and I have it too easy.

Friday night to Saturday:
My friend, Oliver, had a quality birthday party. We had a wicked game of hide/seek. I won in the second round. I was in a (*clean) garbage can for twenty minutes. Indeed, I was.
The second part is actually on Saturday, 2 in the morning.

I needed to drive patrons home. Only caffiene and HFCS has been consumed. I'm dropping Billy the kid off and he tells me to turn left from Troutdale Road onto what looks like a driveway.

It's the driveway to the cemetary.

I'm cursing his name and speaking softly. By the time we've driven 100 meters, there's a car behind us.
Let me recap: 2am, cemetary, car behind us.
Okay.

When Billy gets out of the car, the brilliant blues and harsh reds begin to flash.
"What are all of you up to?"
Unrolling my window, "Should I stay in my car or get out."
"It's fine either way."
It sounds like he calls for backup. Rough.
I tell him I'm dropping people off and give street names and neighborhoods. He's walking back to his car:
"I have a question."
"Oh, you have a question, do you?" He's patronizing, but he's the police so I'm okay with it.
"Could I take a breathalyzer test? Is that okay? Does it cost money to do each one?"

"What? Do you think you've had too much to drink?"
"No, I've never touched alcohol."
"Really? Never?"

We talk for five minutes about my family's history of alcohol. He understands addiction is a tough thing to live with. We're thanking each other for being wonderful people by the end and I drive away.
No harm no foul (fowl).

Another car is driving the opposite way, though, in between the tight cement blocks.
Not to worry, it's just the backup. I try to wave, but he didn't see me.
Tinted windows, mmhmm.

I drop Bridgette the kid off and I speed on home. I tried to do as much illegal stuff on the way home as I possibly could.
It's so much easier, when everyone's in.
Are you in?

When I deal with the police, I make them smile.
What does that say about me?
Something good?
I don't know; I almost doubt it.

This is just the start of a beautiful thing.

Two other things, my lasting impressions of these days:
Spring break trip to the coast cancelled. I couldn't drive down to Pacific city.
Understood.
and...
I've made a pact with myself that my current mood will be aroused for a month and it will not change.

The cheetah is the fastest land mammal.

Hope the day goes on
for you
as well.