It's warm. Damp with large drops of rain pelting the windshield every now and then. The Crystal Method's The Winner fades into Over the Line, and I roll the windshield down. In my pocket are two white pills. I fish them out, and pop them in my mouth, downing them with a Diet Pepsi. To my left is the Patapsco River, capped by downtown Baltimore a little further to my north. Yellow street lamps guide my way on either side, and I close my eyes to inhale the watery breeze.
I stop in front of an old basketball court. Just past the court is a small field that ends at the water, a stubby pier jutting out in broken planks. I remember the place from my earlier drinking days. Friends and I would come here before we were old enough to hit the bars and drink. We would drink cans of Bud and bottles of Zima and we would make out.
I slip my hands in my pocket and lean back on the hood of the Mustang. Crystal Method's High and Low is on now. It's perfect and I smile. I'm happy in my reverie. So far, I've had a good life. Optimism engulfs me as the rain comes down in a deluge.
