As you may know, I was on a bit of an adventure these past few days. I traveled from New York to Philadelphia to Virginia Beach to Rochester (rather, Ontario - a tiny little town) back to New York. Well, somewhere between Philadelphia and Virginia Beach, we found ourselves in Delaware. It was about 10 am. We pulled into a large, empty parking lot. 'Dover Downs', the sign read. I was simply along for the ride, and I like to think of myself as relatively compliant, so I thought, a stop at a casino can't hurt. Of course, I don't gamble, but I do like my super coffees. Nothing like a couple shots of whiskey in your coffee to get you going in the morning. What time is it? No sign of the driver? Pour us another. We start gabbing with the bartender. Life is good. We love the bartender. We love super coffee. We love a fine bloody mary. We locate a carmate. A mother. We love her. She loves a fine bloody mary. We are drunk. We are drunk and it's only 11 am and we're in Dover Delaware in shiny leggings and old flannel shirts. We were a sight to behold, though there was no one there to see, except Bernard, the bartender. We find our driver. The only sober person about to hop in family car. We all have to pee. We exit, after downing a final bloody mary. We get in the car. I speak up, "uh, I have to pee again." We make a trip into McDonald's. We eat french fries, some beef soup, and a quarter of a root beer. We leave. We all pass out. The driver talks about us under his breath as we all sleep - for the nest 4 hours. Happy as kittens.
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