It was late one Friday night in the late spring. My friend Steve and I had been out shooting pool and drinking overpriced low-quality pisswater, and we decided to head home. He had drunk less than I had, so he got in his car and departed. Me, I felt the need to walk around a bit before I got behind the wheel- not that I was drunk per se, but just to clear out the cobwebs.
This is how I found myself sitting in the Coney parking lot at one in the morning, letting the warm breeze waft over me as I dozed a little and ignored the group of happy clappers off to my left who were dancing and singing with guitars and tambourines. It was a relaxing so