Tripped Up

I drove down to Houston one afternoon for a court date.

Dropped acid at Numbers on Montrose and danced till midnight.

When I came out of the club, my truck was gone.

Figured it got towed so I dropped one more tab and went looking for it.

A security guard at a supermarket knew where the impound lot was.

He drove me to rescue it.

On the way, I dropped another hit of acid in his truck and this time, I mean I literally dropped/lost it on the floor board of his truck.

While searching for it, he asked me what I was looking for.

I said my shoes. I found them on my feet.

I never found the tab. Probably a good thing.

I had formation in five hours and I was three hours from Ft. Hood.

I made it but it wasn’t pretty.

Turns out we had a battalion run that morning.

Oops and ouch.

I wish I could say that was my last acid trip or bad decision.

It would be neither but those are stories for another day.

Just writing this makes me thirsty. Hydrate!

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