I went out on my balcony a few minutes ago because a car was revving its engine so hard, I thought it might catch fire or something. Just as I looked down, the car peeled off - dragster style - and roared down the length of the parking lot. Finally, (with not much room to spare before smashing into the dilapidated playground at the end of the parking lot) the brake lights came on. The tires must have left 20 feet of rubber as they squealed to a halt. The car then backed up very crookedly. It came really close to hitting a bunch of parked cars - but didn't. Then it revved high again and shot off, barely making the far turn around the building next to mine.
I ran across the length of my apartment and out the front door to watch the car weave toward me, before turning through the middle of the buildings (which necessitated another tip-toe jog to the balcony) and finally it pulled in to two spaces. The front tires bumped heavily against the curb, with the white line parking space line lying right under the middle of the car. It revved violently high again, and I waited for it to barrel through the iron fence and into the 2nd floor of the building in front of the parking spot. Thankfully, though, the car calmed down, turned off, and the door opened.
Out spilled a guy so drunk, he could barely walk. Watching from above, it looked like the parking lot was actually a ship, rolling in a high sea. The man would stop and try to steady himself, swaying with his arms spread wide as if to will the ground below him to stop moving. But then another imaginary wave would hit, and he'd go hurtling away to one side. I wanted to find it funny, but I actually felt really worried that he was going to hurt himself. And I felt sick, wondering if he had actually managed to drive himself home without hitting anyone. I hope so.
What an asshole.
Circling Back to Nazca Grill
19 hours ago