Homer and I tore down I-15 South toward Los Angeles. At 100 mph, my Toyota Echo was a bit wobbly, but neither of us cared. I was completely annihilated on Jameson and Homer was sitting in the passenger seat smoking yet another oxycontin. With the windows down, the wind was roaring.
"Why the hell do you smoke that stuff, Homer," I shouted. "You're gonna OD if you're not careful."
"Bullshit dude," he replied, with a laugh. "This stuff is basically no worse than pot. Plus, if I gotta take a piss test, it leaves my system after just a few days."
"Whatever dude."
Homer just laughed some more and took another drag from his pipe. He usually smoked it on a flat piece of tinfoil, but it made sense to use the pipe considering the wind. After he was done, he stuck his head out the window and howled.
The road was a blur for me and due to my condition, I couldn't see beyond my headlights. We were driving to LA to try our luck at an audition for a TV show called "The Voice". I figured with my looks, that'd be my only shot. As for Homer, well, he was there for moral support.
We didn't hear about the auditions until recently and now we were hell bent on getting to them in time.
It was about 2 AM and I was tired from a long day at work. Homer was wide awake but relaxed, having spent the whole day sleeping and smoking his "cottons" as he called them. Lucky son of a bitch.
"Dude, you're veering off the road," said Homer. "Do you want me to drive?"
I eased the car back into the proper lane and glanced over at him. "Hell no," I said. "I let you drive and there's no way we make it. At least this way we have a chance."
"Maybe, but with the way you're swerving and nodding off you're bound to attract unwanted attention."
I just shook my head. "Go back to looking out the window and let me concentrate."
Homer shrugged and stuck his head back out the window. I glanced over at him, his hair flying in the wind, and wondered how the hell he could do that. I'd tried it once, and the air being forced into my face was just plain uncomfortable. But hey, to each his own, right?
The road started to fade and I thought that maybe something was wrong with my car. It had nearly a quarter million miles and something was bound to go. I thought it might be my alternator when I started to hear Homer shouting.
"Holy SHIT! Wake up, dude," he was screaming, seemingly from far away. I felt a dull thud on my shoulder, then a harder thud. I glanced furiously at Homer.
"What the hell man," I raged. "You trying to get us killed hitting my like that?" I must have lost some control when he hit me because we were riding the gravel on the side of the highway. I gently eased the car back onto the blacktop.
"Me? Dumb ass, you just fell asleep!"
"What the hell are you..." I shut my mouth when I realized that the headlights were just fine. "Holy shit."
"Yeah," said Homer. "Look, I know you're one helluva driver. But you've been downing whiskey since you got home and you've been working all day. Maybe I should take over."
His reasoning seemed sound enough for me. As usual, even when he was high as a kite, Homer could look at things calmly and rationally. That's part of what I liked about him.
"I really think that it would be best if I drive. Just pull over and we'll make the switch."
I gave it some thought. That was twice now that I'd started blacking out. I really wanted to make this audition, but Homer was right. If I kept driving, sooner or later we'd either get busted by the cops or worse.
"Alright," I said slowing the car and pulling over to the side of the road.
Though there weren't many, the cars that were on the highway flew past us in a blur. I got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side while Homer hopped over into my seat. He was adjusting the mirror as I sat down and buckled in.
"The gas is the one on the right, isn't it," he asked. I just stared at him. "Geez dude, relax. I'm kidding. I watch TV you know."
His response to my glare wasn't very comforting but there wasn't much I could say. He checked to make sure the way was clear, then floored it. My very relaxed body slapped back against the seat and we were off.
"Hot damn! I love this driving stuff, man. You outta let me do it more often," Homer laughed.
"You don't even have a license, so just take it easy."
Homer looked over at me with a great big smile. "What the hell do I need a license for? This stuff isn't...oh shit!"
The Echo was up to about 90 and while looking at me he had nearly slammed into a Smart Car.
"Gentle with the steering, dumb ass," I chided him. "The Echo isn't a race car. At this speed you could totally flip us. And I'll be so pissed if you get us killed and I can't get to the audition."
Homer, as usual, just laughed. Sometimes, I really envied his carefree attitude. I reached under the passenger seat and opened up the little drawer that was hidden away there. I had a small bottle of Jameson and opened it up. It wasn't like I was driving anymore tonight.
"Are you sure that's a good idea," asked Homer. "You don't wanna be hung over for the audition."
"I'll be fine," I said as I took a swig. "You know us Asians. We don't get hangovers."
"Bullshit," Homer coughed. He looked at me and started laughing. I reached over and mussed his hair.
"Fuck off," I said with a grin. I looked back out the window and watched the world around me slowly begin to fade. I didn't know how fast Homer was driving, but he must have been really pushing it.
We started to pass cars like they were standing still. Their taillights blended together into solid red stripes. Mmm. A Red Stripe sounded good right now.
As we flew past the billboards I began to chuckle. I had just noticed what must have been a sign for the local police department, complete with flashing lights. What the hell police department advertised like that?
"Uh oh," said Homer. "Looks like we got a problem."
I was starting to fade again and glanced over at Homer. "Relax man. We'll get there in time. Hey. Why are you...slowing...down."
I must have fallen asleep. For a bit.
When I woke up I realized we were stopped on the side of the road. I looked at Homer through an alcoholic stupor. He looked tense. Weird.
Suddenly, there was a loud banging on my window. I jumped at the sound, then slowly turned my head to see who it was that was hitting my car.
A police officer, flashlight in hand, was staring at me. He motioned for me to lower my window. I obliged him.
"Son," he said. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Look, officer," I slurred. "I know I'm not supposed to be drinking, but I don't see the harm if I'm not the one at the wheel."
"That's all well and good, son," he replied. "But are you insane or something? Have you seriously been letting him drive?"
"Officer, he's plenty capable. Plus, I'm totally trashed. He's not so bad."
"You sure about that? Did you look at his eyes?"
I looked over at Homer. His eyes did seem to be a bit red.
"Is he high or something," the officer asked, then quickly shifted his focus to me. "Are you?"
"Honestly officer, I've just been drinking a bit."
"Don't tell him that I've been smoking my cottons dude," said Homer. "Don't rat me out."
My head spun toward Homer, a bit to fast because it seemed to take my vision a moment to catch up. "How the hell are you gonna warn me not to tell him you been smokin' cottons. You just said that out loud stupid."
The officer tapped the side of the car. "Son, I'm gonna need you to step outta the vehicle, please."
"Oh come on, officer! I told you he's fine!"
"Buddy, for one, your friend there has been smoking oxycontin, which you've just very plainly spoken. And for two," he paused a moment. "For two, you've got some serious issues and might just be a danger to yourself."
"What the hell are you talking about," I, admittedly, whined. "I'm just a little bit drunk!"
"Son, I don't care how drunk you are. You gotta have some major issues if you're letting your dog smoke oxycontins and drive a goddamn car."
"Oh," I said as I mulled it over in my head. He did seem to have kind of a point.
I got out of the car.
