A Po-boy's tale of Nawlins Naivete Chapter 3

Naiveté(As told by Lori)
Thursday, 8:30 P.M.

I don’t remember why, but I am driving. My lovely boyfriend is passed out in the backseat and my stupid brother will not shut up. He is talking a mile a minute, because he just snorted about two grams of coke. I have not paid attention to a word that he has said since he asked me to drive. I have no idea how to get to Pittsburgh; I am just driving, hoping, and trying my best to not pay attention to my brother.

“I don’t understand job interviews. They ask you the most ridiculous questions. Today, this girl was interviewing me and she asked me when was the last time I was criticized?” he blabbed.

“uh huh”

“ I don’t know what the fuck to say, it’s a fucking interview for a fucking restaurant!!!ya know?”

“uh huh”

“So, I’m like, this morning. Chick just stares at me. I say, yeah so I was making pancakes for my girlfriend and she was criticizing me because the pancakes were burnt,”

“uh huh”

“But, the funny thing is,” he laughs to himself, “I’m applying for a job as a cook, and I’m telling her how I burnt fucking pancakes, the easiest thing in the world to cook, and I’m telling her how I fucked that up,”

“uh huh,”

“Next question she asks me is, what do I take pride in, without even thinking I just say, my art, I don’t know where it came from I just said it. I don’t do ‘art’. Then she asks me how I deal with stressful situations, I just broke out laughing, I wanted to say I smoke doobies, but instead I just said, I keep everything in perspective.”

“What are you talking about?”

“what?……oh, my job interview,”

“ohhh..did you get the job?”

“I don’t know,”

And he continued to talk about other questions that the girl asked him, and how he managed to screw up yet another job interview. I don’t know how I let Billy talk me into this trip. I would be perfectly content on our breezy porch sipping wine, playing guitar, talking literature, but instead here I am in the middle of nowhere driving my crackhead brother and my lightweight boyfriend to Pittsburgh. It is getting darker and it is starting to drizzle. I am refusing to use the windshield wiper and am enjoying the rain as it drops onto the front windshield. It takes me back to when I was younger and I used to watch the snow fall from the sky. It used to amaze me how each flake seemed perfect and I used to love the way that snow piled and accumulated. This rain seemed to have that same effect. It created almost a rhythm against the glass. Each drop had a purpose and the whole trip seemed surreal. My brothers droning voice, my boyfriend in the back snoring, the cars whizzing by.

I have never really traveled down south. I have been to Disney world, and to Virginia, I have been to New Mexico, and San Diego, but never to New Orleans. I was really excited to see the live music and experience the excitement, but it all seems so far away. I am beginning to doubt if we will ever get there. The highway is dimly lit. I am not driving fast. Cars whiz by from both directions. The highway is also narrow, construction workers are everywhere. The road is windy, and I am starting to bug out a little bit as it seems like every turn I go off road.

Suddenly, Billy wakes up. I love the way he can pass out in mid-sentence, and then wake up and finish his sentence like he never passed out for two hours.

“How far are we?” he asked.

“About an hour and a half,” Danny responded.

“Sweet, you want to stop for some BK,”

“No, I think we should keep driving,” I said.

“Ok, anyone want an adderroll?”

“No,”

“I’ll take one,” my brother exclaimed.

He quickly hopped over the seat, and Danny chopped up two adderrols and they both snorted a few lines. This is not good. I can tell already that they are going to be trouble together. Ever since we got in the car it has been a little competition. First, they guzzled the champagne, then they smoked a blunt, then they snorted coke, now adderroll, it is like I don’t exist and they are just trying to outdo each other. I am the worst driver on the planet, and they don’t care, they’d rather have me drive and do drugs and get fucked up. I am fed up, and I pull the car to the side of the road.