(Q).
The next morning I called up my friend, Nick Unger, who worked for the police department. He agreed to meet me at the Casbah, a glorious little dive bar a few blocks from my apartment. It opened first thing in the morning, realizing the best drunks start early. By the time he showed up I was already deep into my third drink and trying charm the bartender, Maggie, into comping my fourth. I was failing miserably as usual, but at least it was fun trying. As soon as Nick walked through the front door, I slammed my palm down on the bar top. "Tricky Nicky! Have a drink, brother!" He slid onto the bar stool beside me and smiled warmly at the bartender. "Has this low life been giving you grief, Maggie?" She grinned at him. "Only since I opened the front door." Nick winked at her and ordered a half-pint of stout. "Pansy," I scoffed and slammed the rest of my whiskey. He shook his head. "God I miss you, you mad bastard. I can't imagine why Andrea won't let you come around the house anymore." I shrugged. "I know, it's like as soon as she started squirting out brood, she suddenly gets all uptight about people starting fires in the middle of your living room." "Imagine," he said as he raised his glass of beer. I clinked my empty glass to his. "So guess who I ran into last night at Jenny's wedding?" He shrugged. "Brian Lopez." He chuckled. "No shit. How is old Double-Dip?' "Fat and sad," I replied while waving Maggie over for a refill. "And married to a smoking hottie. Well, married or engaged or whatever." Nick nodded. "I met her. They were at a Police Union dinner around the holidays. She's a butterface." I arched my eyebrow. "She had a face?" Maggie rolled her eyes while she filled my glass. Nick caught her glance. "I know, he's got no class, but what are you gonna do?" "Anyways," I continued, "she's way too hot for him, and that's not gonna end well. You just know that one of these days he's gonna come home and find her with the pool boy or some shit." After the story, the narrator is probably: - drunk - sober - sad - not enough information
(A).
drunk

(Q).
Despite my blog name, I'm not actually all that adventurous. Think more suburban adventure rather than skydiving or wild camping. But, over the years I have ended up overcoming a few challenges that I hadn't precisely expected to be faced with. This blog has always been, and will forever more be a record of my personal adventures. It is a journal of the chaos, delight, opportunities and travails that we encounter all rolled in with an obsession for photography (as far as my skillz extend) and a dash of humour (well, I try anyway). DRIVING IN AMERICA Covering 800 miles of American freeways in less than 10 days is something I never thought I'd do to be honest an inexperienced driver at best I've driven short distances (and through a Florida tropical storm from Cape Canaveral back to our Orlando apartment) but somehow we survived unscathed driving diagonally the length of Louisiana from New Orleans to Shreveport, through the crazy traffic of Dallas and along the long, undulating motorways of Texas. I'll be honest, and admit that did we encounter a couple of challenging and scary situations a truck driver changing lanes not allowing me enough time to enter a motorway (I luckily just popped into a shoulder lane), getting lost in the middle of Dallas skyscrapers (we jammed every device we had onto navigation), accidentally assuming a road was much narrower than it really was (luckily the road was relatively quiet so I just guided her nimbly over to the correct lane) and dodging some of the twits who pulled out in front of us one with a trailer full of wood but overall it really was fine. COMMUNICATING IN OTHER LANGUAGES You've decided where to go, booked the flight, found a hotel, decided what to do and then you get to your destination. And, if you're exploring outside the traditional western world, you probably won't speak the local language and the locals may or may not depending on how far outside the tourist traps you venture. After the end of the story, the author probably did what? - Go skydiving. - Take a wild camping trip. - not enough information - Have more suburban adventures.
(A).
Have more suburban adventures.

(Q).
I'll go one farther back than that. I almost never had a first date. A young lady I met in the hospital cafeteria where I worked as a pharmacy intern (she was an X-ray tech) I asked out on a date. Would you like to follow me home? she asked. I said SURE! She got in her car, hit the freeway, went over the top of the hill..and was gone. I went 75 mph desperately trying to keep her tail lights in my line of sight while swerving in and out of traffic. I thought if you don't really want to go out with me, just tell me, don't try to ditch me! I finally caught up with her but found out she always drives that way. If Janet Guthrie wasn't the first woman to drive in the Indy 500, she would have been. Over the years as she got older, collecting speeding tickets got old so she became a more responsible driver. I'm glad, because I had to help pay for those tickets over the last 30+ years we've been married. Glad I caught up to her that one night on the freeway. EDIT, AND BACKSTORY: She ate lunch with her X-ray tech coworkers. She left the table first and I approached the others and asked what was her name, the girl that just left. They told me, and about a half hour later called the radiology department from the pharmacy phone and asked for her. She said all the girls in the department were huddled around the phone and giggling while we talked. It's the handsome blonde intern in the pharmacy, they told each other. Oh, you mean THAT one?! Ooooh! Like the final scene from "An Officer And A Gentleman." Pretty funny. When Janet tells the author to follow her home, the author probably feels: - Excited - Lost - Upset - not enough information
(A).
Excited