Bee and I took the tunnel across the river to muck it up. I discovered a new irritating habit of dance halls: playing only the first minute or two of any song. My fellow co-patriots were too demolished to notice. When Jaeger girls are whittling it in orange hot pants a man could live in a perpetual halo of, "This song! This song! This song!"
It was like being on a road trip with Adam.
We started walking, eventually mauling our way to the shore. Bee exclaimed, "The city looks so nice from over here!" "That's not the city," I spat, squinting. "That's just a cardboard cut out being held up by bums."