Flighty response.
A stop light.
Some people see "Stop!".
We saw opportunity.
Opportunity for nothing really, but opportunity nevertheless.
Garcia brings the car to a stop, and the rest of us look around for the right mark. Had we looked behind us we wouldn't have been so surprised when one of our friends from the car behind us got out of his car and jumped onto the roof of Garcia's Mustang and begins howling at the moon.
I get out of the car and sit on the roof next to him. I see the car next to us. Some nondescript bubble car (you know the kind) with about a million stickers on it. "Punk Rock is not dead", "Misfits", "NOFX", etc. Inside the car is a girl about 20 with jet black hair and the look of the average scenewhore. She opens her window and lights a cigarette, obviously noticing the two maniacs on top of a car at a stop light. My friend next to me tells me to talk to her.
Getting up on top of cars and shouting is one thing, but talking to girls has never been my strong point. Both acts involve me making a fool of myself, but at least getting on top of cars at stop lights is less awkward. I try to protest, but with the threat of the green light pulling us apart it was useless to try and beat the peer pressure.
"Hello," I say, sounding as nonchalant as I can with my friend still on all fours howling.
"Um...Hi." she says with just a hint of amusement.
"Mind if I bum a cigarette?" I say, stuttering only slightly.
She smiles and holds a cigarette out her window. I try to reach it without getting up, over-dramatizing my inability to reach.
"Throw it!" I say with a silly light in my eyes.
She does and it falls to the ground pathetically.
I jump off the car and scramble for the cigarette, grabbing it and jumping inside the car. The light turns green and the werewolf dashes back for his car.
We all exchange a look and begin laughing hysterically as I hold up my prized cigarette.
I don't even smoke Marlboro Lights.
Some people see "Stop!".
We saw opportunity.
Opportunity for nothing really, but opportunity nevertheless.
Garcia brings the car to a stop, and the rest of us look around for the right mark. Had we looked behind us we wouldn't have been so surprised when one of our friends from the car behind us got out of his car and jumped onto the roof of Garcia's Mustang and begins howling at the moon.
I get out of the car and sit on the roof next to him. I see the car next to us. Some nondescript bubble car (you know the kind) with about a million stickers on it. "Punk Rock is not dead", "Misfits", "NOFX", etc. Inside the car is a girl about 20 with jet black hair and the look of the average scenewhore. She opens her window and lights a cigarette, obviously noticing the two maniacs on top of a car at a stop light. My friend next to me tells me to talk to her.
Getting up on top of cars and shouting is one thing, but talking to girls has never been my strong point. Both acts involve me making a fool of myself, but at least getting on top of cars at stop lights is less awkward. I try to protest, but with the threat of the green light pulling us apart it was useless to try and beat the peer pressure.
"Hello," I say, sounding as nonchalant as I can with my friend still on all fours howling.
"Um...Hi." she says with just a hint of amusement.
"Mind if I bum a cigarette?" I say, stuttering only slightly.
She smiles and holds a cigarette out her window. I try to reach it without getting up, over-dramatizing my inability to reach.
"Throw it!" I say with a silly light in my eyes.
She does and it falls to the ground pathetically.
I jump off the car and scramble for the cigarette, grabbing it and jumping inside the car. The light turns green and the werewolf dashes back for his car.
We all exchange a look and begin laughing hysterically as I hold up my prized cigarette.
I don't even smoke Marlboro Lights.