Tonight I was driven around by someone with no respect for the speed limit. It was glorious. Me, Julia, John Kleb, and his girlfriend Cindy were speeding down Stuebner and all sorts of cop-infested roads at 80+ mph. It was so amazing the way all the stoplights simply truckled to our recklessness. We exited I45 at a hundred miles per hour, crossing four lanes in a matter of milliseconds. I tried to act terrified as if it was what I should've done, to be afraid for my life as if it were something I could kill with simple exhiliration, but it didn't work. I wanted to be in the passenger's seat with the windows rolled down. Metallica was on the radio, loud and maddening. I felt like I was being driven around by Dean Moriarty in the giant Cadillac Limousine. John would ask where we were going next, and I'd just point straight ahead and say "That way." at a hundred miles per hour. It just didn't fucking matter.
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