LightBoy

I have only ridden while drunk once, but I think it was good enough to make up for all the times that I haven't.

About six months ago, my friend Tyler and I were at a party at the home of a third friend. During the course of this party, both Tyler and I had sampled a great number of choice malt based beverages. That evening I also had the pleasure of introducing Tyler to another guest at the party, on Mr. Jack Daniels; the three of us were to become good friends over the next several hours.

At about two in the morning we decided that it was time to leave. We were going back to Tyler's apartment, about two miles down the same street, which happened to be the main drag on campus. We had had the foresight to ride our bikes (when I say bike, I should point out that I was riding an old Huffy kid's bike that I probably outgrew when I was ten), though we were a little worried about riding home. Our concerns were set aside as soon as we left though, because only a few steps from the front door, I somehow managed to trip over the bike and land in a crumpled heap in the front yard. I became tangled in the bike and unable to stand, though it didn't really matter, as my histerical laughter rendered me fairly immoble anyway. Upon witnessing this, Tyler doubled over laughing and fell on top of me and the bike. This, of course, made the situation worse, and we stayed on the ground for several minutes pointing at eachother and laughing like monkeys. Eventually we realized that most of the other party guest were watching us by this time, that we were probably embarassing ourselves, and that the time to bow out gracefully and long since passed us by.

We were assisted on to our bikes by people that I am now certain were sure we would kill ourselves on the way home and began our journey. As the traffic was fairly sparse and I was confident in my ability to not die, I began weaving across the four lanes of one way traffic. Tyler was not impressed, and he attempted to rescue me from myself. I stopped to taunt him, he didn't, and this caused a minor pile-up in the middle of the road. I tell you, there is nothing like lying in the street watching a truck drive towards you to sober you up in a hurry.

We forgot our little brush with death rather quickly though, because we were soon whooping it up with great gusto once more. When we passed fraternity row, we were taunted and jeered at. We responded with Shakespeare. Loud, drunken Shakespeare. I still don't understand it, but at the time we thought it was very funny.

The remainder of the ride is a little blurry, but we apparently made it home alive. We celebrated by falling into a dead sleep on the floor. It was all great fun, though I think it may be a while before I am willing to try it again.