Two pukes, no poop.

May 30th, 2015

It’s 12:53am. I will not get home to my bed until some time past 3.

The ping location is a generic martini bar. These four have been drinking liquor.

“How’s your night going?” asks the guy whose trucker hat keeps falling off.

“Busy, good...” etc, etc.

We have a two mile ride ahead of us and I suddenly find myself thinking that working late isn’t such a bad thing after all. These kids are polite and having a good time. They were even waiting for me at the curb. Maybe my first Friday night puke, puke, poop ride was a fluke.

But then it gets real quiet, the eye, the horrible moment right before it all changes. I look at the girl to my right and she’s cool. It’s the three guys in back who are bobbing back and forth, breathing quickly and holding their hands in front of their faces.

I am cracking the windows now, “Are you guys cool or do I need to pull over?”

“We’re good man.”

“Tell me before that changes.”

I make a right turn and everything is smooth. We cruise over a grade in the road and I hear a groan. Then, nothing, still rolling.

I unlock the doors as I pull in. “You guys are home!” The rear doors fly open and out of both sides they let loose. “You guys are amazing!”

True professionals.

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