Parched. . .

I don't know how often I've wanted to drink in the morning, although I remember a few episodes of morning consumption of unrefined cane sugar products as Nils and I terrorized Central American roads for months, and hell, what's so wrong with a toddy first thing in the morning anyway?  There is something quite blissful about the warmth and good humor of a morning buzz, but usually it means being a total wreck by the afternoon and make regrettable phone calls to liasons of the opposite sex. . .ah yes, maybe that morning drinking ain't so great.

Yet. . .sometimes a vision appears. . .an apparition. . .

. . .and understanding it can be a compllicated matter. . .and can drudge up many a long lost memory. . .

 

 . . .when you realize that it's been far too long since you and your friend have done something outstandingly stupid together.  

Like the time my broken-legged cohort Nils and I got stopped by the police 10 miles south of Miami after a spontaneous trip to The Keys when we slept in a hotel parking lot, on the beach, rode mopeds around trying to run over the feral chicken population, drank beer all the way back to Islamorada where we drank more beer with Captain Bill at some roadside joint until we were well lubricated and proceeded to meander our way back to Palm Beach to where your fearless heroes were pulled over by the police with a truck full of. . .

. . .on second thought. . .maybe this is not the best example of good times. . .