Charged with: Passing out at Intersection, Drunk Guy Sitting Shotgun
It was warm. I shuffled. The bodies around me shifted accordingly but remained inert, pressing their hot, dead weight on either side of me. It was possible that I would suffocate in masses of curly hair either way I turned my head. The vague, unpleasant awareness of my own corporeal existence forced me to seek a position for my face that did not include someone else's ringly locks. My venture successful, my sense of self dissapated once again as I settled into warm, pleasing sleep...
And then there they were, surrounding the car, not the least of which was one shocked-looking black dude and his companions. There were also dog-walkers slowing down and people exiting a pickup truck to the left. "Gleeb?" I think I said. Consciousness flooded my mind but quickly settled into the base of my skull where normally only the down-and-dirty life support ops hang out. It didn't want to be a part of this.
The people were speaking. They might have been saying "are you alright?" or demanding to know what we were doing; however, speech was as beyond my functions at that time as piloting a rocket ship to Planet Sleepytime and defeating the Evil Blanket Stealers so that we could all go get some damn sleep.
The murmurs continued as Kelcie, in the drivers seat, awoke with a start. She mumbled gibberish at the black man, he mumbled words back that sounded like gibberish. Befuddled, my partners on either side of me in the back lolled into existence, while my assistant manager, passed out drunk shotgun, remained passed out dunk shotgun.
I assure everyone at this time that only the man sitting shotty was still drunk. Everyone else was just tired from being drunk last night and then floating down the river in the sun. And so it was that it had happened like this: The man sitting shotty passed out ages ago. Slowly those of us in the back slipped into sleep going down the highway returning from our camping trip. Alone in her consciousness, Kelcie finally had made it to her own neighborhood only to be defeated, blocks from home, by a stop sign, at which she fell asleep completely with her foot on the brake and where we apparently sat for upwards of ten minutes.
Why nobody thought to move us sooner, or honk, or knock on the window, i will never know, because even when we awoke, it was to a general, mystifyed mumur and not to any attempt at interpersonal conversation. We were like the monolith in 2001: a Space Oddessy, and the neighborhood monkeys were circled around us, unsure of if we were benign or some malicious force that they should not wake. Anonymous, quizzical faces floated in all of the car windows as we all blubbered something about being just fine, thank you, and Kelcie drove off without further explanations. Later, the drunk manager had to be retrieved from lying in the middle of the street as, I shit you not, a blind woman was approaching with her cane, sure to trip over his intoxicated ass at any moment. Its bad enough your manager is lying in the road; who sent the blind lady?