I'm walking out of the bar and looking for passengers. Someone needs to ride with me.
"Hey, do you wanna ride with me? Otherwise I'm the jackass driving to the party alone."
Beth is all, "Hell yeah, I'll ride with you."
So we head over to my car to lead the car parade from the bar to the Kalina residence. I'm a little annoyed, since I remained sober so I could drive people, and then I learned that three other friends had the same sobering idea, and some random Neanderthals didn't care and planned on driving their own drunk asses. Usually, I would fight them and make them get in my car, but I honestly didn't give a shit. They want to get hammered and drive in a town that slices drunk drivers from navel to nose, that's fine with me.
"So I read your blog like every day," Beth slurs, and chuckles. "We think you need to write a book."
"Who's we?" Unlock the car. It's actually kind of nice having a backseat devoid of jammed-in drunken clowns, kicking my chair, hollerin' for burritos, cloak and daggering their half empty bottles of Old Style like precious cargo.
"Me and CrazyLiz."
"I don't know if I could gather enough thoughts together to come up with any sort of plot. I've never been good at plots."
"You could totally do it."
"And then I could dedicate it to you in the front. Like, of the book, and it could say, 'To Beth, Who Is Extremely Sneaky, and Tricked Me Into Dedicating This Word Dumpster To Her."
"Because She Wants To See Her Name In Print."
"Exactly," I start the engine and power up the radio. "So where are you living now?"
"Yeah, I didn't even realize you were back in the country. I'm all pissed, because I don't know anyone in Africa anymore," I get a glimpse in my rear view mirror of the trail of cars behind me. "It made me feel cultured and special. Degrees of separation to a faraway continent and all that."
Beth laughs, "I don't think I could have stayed in Senegal much longer."
"Still, it's crap. You were my African Connection. Now I'm going to have to like, convince someone to move to Namibia."
"Sorry, hold on, stop talking, no talking no talking hold on hold on." Turn up the radio and start singing along with the song. "SAY you will, say you wi-i-il, be mine toni-ight--"
She starts laughing. "Is this Foreigner?"
I raise my eyebrows and smirk sideways. "You know it."
"Do you seriously listen to Foreigner?" Snickers.
Shock and befuddlement. "Do you seriously read my blog every day?"
"Well, yeah, but I thought it was kind of like, you know, a novelty thing."
"No fucking way man, listen to Lou Gramm, this is awesome in its simplicity," I turn it up a little higher, "Oh--won't--you SAY you will, SAY you won't--"
"That is hilarious! It's not just like, a blog thing?"
"Make up your--What? Did you think I was lying or something?"
"No, but I just thought...I don't know...who loves Foreigner?"
"Um, who loves bacon?" I sneer. "Fucking everyone. Even vegetarians slip for bacon."
"I love that you really love Foreigner."
"Duh, of course I do. Just like I really love Teen Wolf."
Beth keeps doing that surprised scoffish "huh" thing, all gaping and perplexed until we turn onto the Kalina's court, the line of cars trailing behind us as the song slips into "I Wanna Know What Love Is," and Beth asks again if this is Foreigner as I serenade her and nod with flourish.
Man, I love Foreigner.